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kaladinkholins · 4 months

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We all already know Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils. But you know what? Lemme just say it, here's what I think:

Taigen and Mikio are foils.

Not necessarily to each other as individuals in the way that Mizu and Akemi juxtapose each other, but mostly in the contrast between their relationships with Mizu.

I've covered specific parallels between Taigen and Mikio in other posts I wrote; but as the number of parallels I'm noticing between them keeps piling up, I'm compelled to just compile them all in one post. So! This is, thus, the post in question.

First of all, let's look at their similarities.

1. Their status in society is the same. They are both samurai who lost their honour and have dreams of reclaiming it.

2. They are also both diligent as they strive to achieve this goal, they both care deeply about their work, but here as they begin to contrast, as the work in question and way they go about their goals is different:

For Mikio, his work is in taming and rearing horses; in order to prove himself, he must tame Kai—a willful and strong horse—and present it to his lord. For Taigen, his work is in sword fighting and martial arts; in order to prove himself, he must kill Mizu—a willful and strong swordsman—and present her dead body to his lord.

In the parallel above, not only are Taigen and Mikio contrasting each other, but Mizu and Kai are placed in comparison as well. And of course, Kai is Mizu's horse, and represents her. Which is why, when later, Mikio sells Kai off, it represents the way he is tossing Mizu (and their relationship) aside.

From there, the rest of the details of their character begin to contrast and juxtapose each other more clearly. So let's look at those differences, shall we?

Their backstory:

Mikio was a great samurai who was banished. A somebody to a nobody. Taigen was a fisherman’s son who rose to the top. A nobody to a somebody.

2. The first time we meet them on-screen:

Mikio is an adult. An older man. Mizu's superior in age. He is Mizu's to-be husband. A love interest. Taigen is a child. A young boy. Mizu's peer in age. He is Mizu's bully. An antagonist.

3. Their maturity and growth:

Mikio is mature, but stuck in his ways. Taigen is immature, but capable of changing and learning.

4. Their overall attitude:

Mikio is generally relaxed, easy-going and unfussy. Taigen is uptight, irritable and severe.

5. How they talk to and conduct themselves around Mizu:

Mikio is aloof, soft-spoken, and serious. Taigen is obnoxious, brash, and sarcastic. Mikio is quiet, speaking only when spoken to, even when Mizu turns to smile at him and shows openness to be near him. Taigen is loud, talking while others are silent, even when Mizu turns from him and shows no interest in conversing with him.

Mikio doesn't show much of who he is to Mizu throughout their marriage, despite their growing affection. Taigen openly shares his traumas and life story to Mizu during their brief alliance, despite their mutual antagonism.

6. Their external vs internal selves:

Mikio is calm, gentle, and considerate on the outside. Taigen is hot-headed, rude, and selfish on the outside. Mikio is cowardly and deceitful on the inside. Taigen is brave and loyal to a fault on the inside. Mikio tells Mizu that he wants to know and see all of her. But he scorns and betrays her, the woman he loves. Taigen tells Mizu that he wants to duel and kill him. But he endures torture to not betray him, the man he hates.

9. Their hair, a symbol of their honour:

Mikio's topknot is untied by Mizu during their spar. This humiliation occurs in private, the two of them alone in a rural location where no one can see them. Taigen's topknot is cut off by Mizu during their duel. This humiliation occurs in public, the two of them being watched by many others in the Shindo Dojo.

10. Their power dynamic with Mizu:

Mikio believes he is Mizu's mentor. He teaches her to throw knives, how to ride and care for horses, and about the tactical benefits of using a naginata. Taigen believes he is Mizu's equal. He views Mizu as a samurai like himself who received all the same teachings he did, and who possesses the same values.

11. Their perceptions of Mizu:

Mikio sees Mizu's feminine side first. He sees her as sweet and gentle, but also clumsy and incompetent. Taigen sees Mizu's masculine side first. He sees her as terrifying and deadly, but also strong and skilled.

12. The way they approach sparring with Mizu:

Mikio only spars with Mizu once. As the fight progresses and she is beating him, he tries to put a stop to it. When she teases/provokes him, he starts taking the fight personally and seriously, finding no enjoyment in it. Taigen spars and brawls with Mizu all the time. No matter how many times Mizu beats him, he doesn't back down. When Mizu challenges him with a chopstick, he is eager to compete with her and gladly rises up to the challenge.

Mikio and Mizu's one and only spar is a friendly match; Mizu is smiling and having fun while he grows increasingly frustrated. Taigen and Mizu's last-seen spar is a playful wrestling match; both him and Mizu are having fun and laughing.

Mikio cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, so he scorns her and walks off, avoiding her thereafter. When Taigen cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, he follows her to observe her moves and continues training in hopes to eventually beat her. After being bested by Mizu once, Mikio leaves her and sells the horse he'd previously gifted to her. After many times losing to Mizu and fighting alongside her, Taigen commends her and admits she is better than him.

13. When Mizu pins them down in a friendly spar:

Mikio sees Mizu's whole face objectively. Taigen stares at Mizu's mouth and eyes.

Mikio gets angry when she kisses him, throwing her off of him and snapping at her, calling her a monster. Taigen gets aroused, apologising, so she pulls herself off of him.

14. Mizu's blue meteorite sword is a reflection of her soul. She believes most are undeserving to face it, let alone hold it. And on that note:

Mikio is the first person (chronologically) that Mizu fights against using her sword. Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) that Mizu fights against with her sword. Mikio is the first person (chronologically) to ever hold her sword, as she passes it to him, letting him wield it. Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) to ever hold her sword, as she passes out, and he picks it up and carries it for her.

15. Then, last but not least, in Fowler's fortress, when she is drugged and in pain, she hears Ringo's voice in the dungeon. She then follows it to an open cell:

Mizu first sees Mikio as a hallucination, the sight of him haunting her and causing her to lose her grip on reality. Her eyes glow a surreal blue to represent this. Her Mama appears then and says Mizu's name accusingly.

Mizu then sees Taigen, but he is real, the sight of him a relief and grounding her back to reality. Her eyes return to their normal blue colour to represent this. Taigen looks at Mizu weakly and says her name softly.

Then, later, when facing Fowler, her revenge awaiting her, she instead chooses to follow her conscience (represented by Ringo's voice in her mind), putting aside her vengeance for a time, in order to save Taigen.

So that's basically all the ones I've noticed so far, but even then, I feel there's already so much that forms a contrast between these two.

What makes it especially incredible about these juxtapositions is that Mikio was Mizu's husband, the man she had fallen in love with, the one person she had ever been intimate with, the man who made her begin to accept herself, to put down her desire for vengeance and instead live a life of peace and happiness.

So for Taigen to have so many parallels with him... Do you see what I'm saying here!

Not to mention that Mizu clearly already has some burgeoning attraction to him, as indicated by how she thinks of him when asked about her desires. And Taigen clearly has shown interest as well (see: him getting a boner after their spar, him holding her hand and telling her, "We're not done yet.").

And on the topic of speculating future possibilities of this relationship, this post by @stromblessed has pointed out yet another parallel between Taigen and Mikio:

Mizu promises Taigen to meet him for their duel in autumn. Mizu fell in love with Mikio and duelled him during autumn.

With all that said, I do believe Mizu and Taigen's relationship is definitely hurtling towards something. But whether they will actually end up together in a sustainable relationship and have a happily ever after? Well, that is a whole other story; we'll just have to wait and see.

#blue eye samurai #mizu x taigen #taigen x mizu #taimizu #taigen blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai meta #hope yall enjoy my thesis on virgin mikio vs chad taigen #this was written last night when i shouldve been writing the new chapter for my taimizu fic that i promised i would work on....whoopsies...#i will get to it eventually but i just have to get a firmer grip on characterisation before i can delve further into it yk #on that note. i kiiinda regret posting the fic on a whim!#my last longfic was written better because i had the whole thing complete and could go back and edit/polish/revise before posting #so it came out much more coherent and consistent ykwim?#this fic might suffer a bit for this reason 🤒#but its fine i have to remind myself im just doing it for funsies #anyway here have another long ass meta post from yours truly #meta dissertations.pdf #shut up haydar #fandom.rtf

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minty364 · 5 months

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DPXDC Prompt #108

When you meet your soulmate you both feel it, you know down to your bones that this person was meant to be with you for life, if you’re unable to find them before you pass on, your ghosts will be unable to locate each other in the afterlife. The Fentons tried to make a way to locate your soulmate using ectoplasm, unfortunately for Danny he’s the only one in the family yet to find his. Jazz actually found hers when she started school in Gotham, some guy named Jason, if Danny remembered correctly. They try some experiments with Danny and something works just not as intended as with every piece of Fenton tech. Danny wakes up in an unfamiliar room and in an unfamiliar body. Looking around, it appears his soulmate is rich, he’s got to call his soulmate and explain the situation. He’s not looking forward to explaining his powers to them but if they’re going to be in his body best to let them know what to expect from Danny’s weird biology.

Damian woke up to an unfamiliar ringtone in an unfamiliar room. Assessing the situation he noticed the number from the phone was actually his own. Might as well answer it to see if he could get some answers.

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #poor danny #damian wayne #Danny and Damian body swap #Body swap #ive always loved body swaps or gender swaps probably helped me find my identity as nonbinary but that’s neither here nor there #Little bit of anger management too #anger management #dead serious #LMAO what if Danny’s powers screw up right as Damian reaches out for the phone and he can’t grip it because it keeps going through his hand #Damian probably struggles a lot #shenanigans #Damian recognizes Jazz and wonders why he’s in his brothers soulmates brother #soulmate au #writing prompt

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starrylevi · 6 months

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🩶 Seeing Levi after you’ve had a bad day 🩶

The minute he opens the door you run into him, your arms wrapping around his waist.

“I’m filthy, y/n.” He states, holding his own arms up so he doesn’t completely you engulf you in his grime.

“Don’t care.” You mumble into his chest.

You feel his chest vibrate as he sighs before he places one hand on your back. “You okay?”

“No.” Your answer is muffled.

“Hm.” Levi softens, understanding you need comfort right now which means that’s what he’s going to give it to you, whether he’s gross or not.

“Missed you.” You say, still holding on tight to him.

Levi can’t help but feel his heart tug at that. You’re the only one who can make him feel this way, like you’re holding his literal beating heart in your hand. “Missed you too, sweetheart.” He presses his lips against your forehead to give you a small kiss.

“What do you think about a bath, hm? We can use one of those weird bath bombs you brought home.” He offers.

You think about it for a moment. “Okay.”

“Alright, let’s get out of these clothes.”

You’re hesitant to release him as being this close to him and taking in his musk triggers the serotonin in your brain.

“Tch. I hope you know we’re not going to stand here forever.”

“I know.” You say, your voice soft and quiet. “Just a couple more minutes, please.”

“Okay.” He says gently.

Levi doesn’t know what happened today to make you need him like this but he’ll wait. He won’t tell you but he’ll wait as long as you need.

#Just something short #I would literally have a koala grip on him #and would not want to let go #levi #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x y/n #levi drabble #levi headcanons #levi fluff #levi attack on titan #attack on titan levi #manda writes

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dulcesiabits · 8 months

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your attention on me, please!

summary: despite a spotless academic career, your poor athleticism makes the upcoming school sports day a nightmare. but when you spot the school slacker, nagi seishiro, pull off a crazy feat of flexibility, you think you've found your ticket to success. The one thing you didn't account for, though, is the way nagi wrecks everything you thought you understood.

notes: 7.5k words, fic, author's notes (read for some cultural context too), no blue lock au, fluff, romcom vibes, soccer is called football, this starts before nagi meets reo but covers a canon divergent vers of their meeting

Everything in the world can be categorized.

This is something you’ve come to learn in all your years of living on the planet; it’s something you’ve come to expect, even. That there are certain patterns to interactions, that people can be dissected into simple pieces, and the world moves neatly along set routes you can predict. You’ve mapped out a path to success with your knowledge: graduate at the top of your class as student representative, test into a prestigious university, and work for a successful company.

But there are some people who, despite your best efforts, wreck your neat understanding of the world, strange outliers who are more like aliens rather than fellow residents of the same planet. Nagi Seishiro, a classmate you’ve never paid particular attention to before, is one such example of an alien. Because despite your best efforts, you can’t help but find him incomprehensible.

Your first meeting with Nagi Seishiro is less of a meeting, and more of a chance encounter. The roof, which is often forbidden to students, is easily accessible once you pick the lock. And because of that, it’s also the one place you can go to relax outside of the view of your classmates.

At least, you used to be the only one who knew the roof was accessible. Because on a balmy day during your second year of high school, you find someone lounging on the flat tiles, a phone raised in front of their face.

You pause, squinting at the intruder. It takes you a few seconds, but eventually you recognize who it is: your classmate, Nagi Seishiro, who’s perpetually napping in class, or pretending to read while he plays video games.

But he doesn’t look up once from his phone, so you carefully skirt to the opposite corner of where he lies, taking your textbooks out of your bag to study. The next few hours pass in silence, and it’s only when the roof door bangs open that you look up to see Nagi disappearing down the stairs.

Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. You two orbit each other for the next few weeks, sharing space on the roof without talking. Maybe it’s because the rooftop has made you aware of his existence, but you start seeing him around school, too. Dawdling in the classroom after school as everyone flies past him, getting reprimanded for overdue library books, or buying bread from the cafeteria long after everyone else has already stolen the best pieces.

Nagi lives in a world of his own and moves along at his own pace, and makes absolutely no effort in anything at all. Your paths will never intersect, because the way he lives is an antithesis to everything you believe in.

But that all changes a few weeks before the school sports meet. Exercise is the one thing you can’t seem to improve in; unlike your grades or your sociability, you simply can’t practice enough to overcome your lack of coordination. But simply giving up isn’t an option; you can’t accept anything less than first place after embarrassing yourself last year.

On the opposite side of the roof from Nagi Seishiro, where you’re accustomed to studying now, you happen to glance up at the exact moment he trips over his own untied shoelaces and drops his phone… before he sweeps his free foot to catch the falling object and twists his arm to use his hand to push himself back into a standing position, all in the span of a few seconds.

“That was dangerous,” he mumbles, kicking his phone back into his grasp, but your heart is pounding. You might have found a solution to your sports day problem.

“Nagi Seishiro,” you say, flying across the roof to plant yourself in front of him before he can move back to his usual lounging spot.

He blinks at you sleepily, as if trying to place your face in his memories. “Who’re you?”

“Your classmate. I saw that stunt just now,” you continue. “You… you’re really athletic.”

“I guess?”

“Help me become a better athlete.” you raise one hand. “I don’t expect you to do it for free, though! I promise I can help you raise your grades in return. The teacher chews you out a lot in class for not paying attention, right? It’d be a good deal!”

His reply is immediate. “Don’t want to.”

“Why not? I mean, if you don’t like the terms of our deal, I could come with something that’s more favorable to you–”

“I don’t care about all of that,” he says bluntly. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

Huh. Huh? You try to maintain a smile, but you feel as if he just threw cold water on your face. “What do you mean, it’s a lot of work?”

“It just sounds like a pain. I don’t want to do it,” he says. He glances down at his phone screen. “Ah. I died. Guess I’ll need to restart that level.”

“Wait!” you say before he can move around you. “It won’t be a lot of work. I just need to know how you pulled off that stunt– I mean, didn’t you practice to get that good?”

“Not really? I just sorta did it. It’s like…” He waves one arm vaguely. “You sorta go fwoosh. And then fwaah.”

“... What?” Was he just naturally gifted, then? You don’t think you’ve seen any of your friends on sports teams act as flexibly as he did.

“If you don’t get it, I can’t explain it,” he says. “Why are you trying so hard? Can’t you ask someone else?”

He didn’t mean it negatively, not with the spacey expression in his eyes and the lack of malice in his tone. Still, a jolt of anger runs down your spine as you grab onto the lapels of his jacket, wrenching him to look down at you. “No. It has to be you. Don’t run away from me, Nagi Seishiro,” you say furiously. “I can’t pull off anything you just did, but I want to get better anyways. So you’re going to help me, because you don’t have a choice. I won’t let you go.”

“... What a pain,” Nagi mumbles. “But it’d be more of a pain to refuse, huh…”

You frown. “What was that?”

“Nothing, boss. But I’m ranking in an event right now, so can we wait until–”

“I’ll help you rank,” you say immediately. “So no more excuses.”

Nagi puts up his hands in surrender. “Okay.”

After your (one-sided) agreement, Nagi starts to stick to you like a burr. Or it might be more accurate to say that you refuse to let him out of your sight, because the second you stop paying him an ounce of attention, he goes back to dozing, gaming or lying around doing nothing.

Sure, your deal was only limited to sports training, but seeing the state of him, you couldn’t just let him be. Seriously, how on earth has he survived until now? He has all the energy and drive of a sloth.

“You need to brush your hair more,” you snap, running a comb through his soft hair as Nagi dozes at his desk. “It’ll get tangled otherwise.”

“Too much work.”

“Everything’s too much work with you. But you know, you only create more work for yourself in the future if you neglect doing basic routines like this now,” you emphasize.

“Is that why you always work so hard?” he says.

“Well, yes. I want to do my best at everything, because I want to be successful. That’s the best path to happiness, you know. Doing your best and achieving great results because of it.”

“Huh.” Nagi takes out a smushed piece of melon bread from his pocket. “You’re weird.”

“You’re the weird one,” you grumble. “Is that the only thing you brought to eat?”

“Yeah.”

You put down the comb, and, rummaging around in your bag, pull out your lunchbox. You slam it down on Nagi’s desk. “Eat half of this. You can’t survive off of just bread.”

“Okay.”

After school, though, is when you hustle Nagi to the nearby park in your gym clothes, ready to start training. Nagi is an unmotivated teacher, but from his limited and vague explanations, you’ve managed to at least work out that you need to be more observant of your limbs, and the space around you.

At the park, you force him to run laps with you, and go through a few exercise routines you’ve looked up online. By the end of it, you’re panting and sweating, but Nagi looks as unruffled as ever.

“Water,” Nagi says, tapping the side of your head with a water bottle.

“Thanks,” you mumble, but he’s already messing with his phone again.

“Log on,” he says. “I want to rank again.”

“What? Let’s go for a few more rounds,” you protest.

“But you promised to help me.”

You groan, fishing your phone out of your bag. You weren’t particularly interested in games, but after realizing it incentivized Nagi more than any of your pleading, you’d brushed up on your skills, watched tutorials and practiced strategies, and soon found yourself battling side by side with Nagi in a virtual world during most of your evenings.

“... You’re good,” Nagi mumbles as your fingers tap across the screen, clearing a row of enemies.

“That’s because I practice. Okay, done!” You bounce up, stretching your arms. “A few more laps, Nagi. Come on!”

Nagi groans but lethargically raises himself up, and you run around the park until night falls.

You don’t know what to think of your classmate, to be honest. He’s a genius at sports, but he never practices or utilizes his talent. How can he just let it go to waste? Taking the easy route is a foreign concept, and you still can’t quite fit the pieces of Nagi Seishiro into a coherent design. Spacey, unmotivated, lackadaisical… you’d even start keeping spare supplies in your bag because Nagi is always forgetting his notebook at home, or needs to borrow a towel. But despite how pushy you act, he never acts bothered by it. Nor does he mind listening to you, or doing what you say, or following you around, though you thought he would have long thrown in the towel by now.

You’re friends, and you’re fond of him. The idea surprises you when you realize it, but it’s not an unpleasant thought.

The next few weeks fly by in a routine of school, training and home until the day of the anticipated sports meet. You’ve signed up for the relay race, and you jump up and down to keep your energy up. You chatter away with your classmates until the appointed time, all your friends teasing you and trying to pat you on the head.

Mikage Reo is no such exception, and your oldest friend finds you in the crowd while fighting back a gaggle of fawning admirers.

You’ve been friends with Reo since middle school.

Maybe you naturally gravitated towards each other because you’re both always surrounded by people, or because your grades are neck and neck, or because his philosophy in life is similar to yours. The only difference between the two of you is that Mikage Reo is a corporate heir, and you earned a scholarship to attend school. The worst part about being his friend, though, is that you’ve heard whispers of people around school calling the two of you “the school’s flowers,” a nickname you hope never, ever catches on.

“Good luck,” Reo says, flicking your nose. “Don’t trip out there.”

You pat Reo on the shoulder. “Be amazed, Reo. I’m a new and improved athlete.”

He snorts. “Yeah? I’ve heard you dragged some kid into being your personal trainer. You never let up, do you?”

“That’s the only way to succeed, Reo! I have to keep my eyes on the prize!”

You make your way down to the starting line of the track, but a familiar head of fluffy white hair catches your gaze. You run behind Nagi and poke him in the sides.

“Oof,” he says, but he doesn’t look surprised to see you. “You’re going to run now?”

“Yes. And I’m going to bring us to victory!” You raise your arms. “I’ve practiced hard for this moment, so keep your eyes on me, Nagi.”

A gaggle of boys in red jerseys passing by snicker at your declaration. From the class across from yours, you recall distantly. “Loser,” one of them calls. “Who gets worked up over a school event?”

For once, you see a spark of anger in Nagi’s eyes, an emotion you’ve never seen cross his face before. He frowns, opening his mouth, but you place a hand on his elbow. He relaxes at your touch, glancing lopsidedly at you.

“Don’t pay them any attention,” you say firmly. “It’s not worth it.”

“... Okay.” But Nagi’s eyes remain narrowed at their retreating backs.

“It’s nice of you to worry, though. Thanks.” His concern is a warmth you carry in your chest all through the race; so he does have emotions other than apathy and faint annoyance. Yet another puzzle piece to the mystery of Nagi Seishiro.

You get into position, the whistle blows, and the first runners of the race set off. You’re running the last leg of the relay, and your class is already behind when your classmate dashes up to you, slapping the baton in your hands. You sprint, all those weeks of dragging Nagi out to train working their magic as you pass one person… then another… but you’re still too far from the finish line with one person just ahead of you. Your legs pump. Your lungs burn. The wind whips past your face. You won’t make it like this. Reo cheers your name in the distance. And there’s a shock of white hair out of the corner of your eye, and you know he’s watching, the slacker, and he probably doesn’t see what the big deal is if you come in second… Keep going. Keep going… and, in a burst of speed, you strain your legs to the limit as you dash past your last competitor, your foot touching the finish line as your classmates erupt into cheers.

You can hardly process what happens next, your blood still pumping from the race, but you slow to a jog as your classmates swarm you, shouting praise.

“Great job!” Reo says, and you high five him.

But your eyes are already searching for Nagi, who sticks out of the crowd like a sore thumb, towering over the majority of your classmates.

“Did you see that?” you ask Nagi as you dash up to him.

“Yeah. You won. Congrats,” he says simply. “All your work paid off.”

“Do you have a different opinion on working hard now, Nagi?” you say, elbowing him in the side.

“Dunno. Still seems like a lot. But… you looked like you were shining,” he says seriously. “I couldn’t stop watching you.”

You pretend to cough into your elbow, hiding your warming cheeks. “Thanks. Anyways! You’re up next, right? What did you sign up for? Ping-pong?”

“I asked someone to switch with me,” he says. “I’m playing football now.”

“Foot… ball? Are you sure you can pick up on all the rules in a short amount of time?” you say, surprised. “Why would you do that?”

“Just because.” But the way Nagi avoids your gaze makes you wonder if he’s hiding something. Still, it wouldn’t be fair of you to pry, and the victory is still racing through your blood.

“All right. I’ll go cheer you on, then.”

The two of you make your way to the football field, where the rest of the team is warming up. Someone throws Nagi a blue jersey, and you turn to size up the opposing team. They’re wearing red jerseys… and they’re the same boys who had made fun of you, just a few moments ago. You glance at Nagi, but he’s lazily stretching one leg.

“Good luck,” you say to Nagi.

“Hm. Won’t need it.” For once, you can’t tell if it’s confidence or lethargy in his voice.

The ensuing football game isn’t a game at all. It’s a one-sided slaughter, with Nagi leading the charge. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Nagi move so fast or fluidly. The ball never leaves his side, and the other team can’t even touch him. One goal. Then another. And when it’s clear they can’t do anything to stop him, the enemy team starts frantically swarming Nagi, breaking formation. But not even a pile-up can save them from their fate, because Nagi simply dodges and kicks the ball into the goal in a series of complicated maneuvers that you can barely track with your eyes.

The timer runs out, and no one can say a word. You start clapping, and like they’ve woken from a daze, your classmates start cheering, a roar so loud you can hear it reverberate in your heart.

“Did you see that? I didn’t realize Nagi could move like that,” one of your classmates murmurs.

“I know! Where has he been hiding that talent? It’s so unfair!”

On the distant field, you see Nagi talk to one of opposing team members, who turns an ugly color at his words. You make your way down to the swarm of your excited classmates, but Nagi is already scanning the crowd, lazily waving off compliments from the people around him, and his droopy eyes perk up when you approach.

“What did you say to that boy?” you whisper, and Nagi leans down so you can cup your hand around his ear. “He looked upset.”

“Just told him he shouldn’t be calling other people losers when he doesn’t even know how to play the game right,” Nagi says. “That’s all.”

“Did you…” The sudden thought feels ridiculous and self-centered. And yet, Nagi Seishiro, the guy who hates activity, who hates effort, who never seems to have particularly strong feelings… “Did you do that because of what he said to me?”

Nagi shrugs. “You worked hard for your goal. He shouldn't have said that.”

There’s a strange fluttering in your chest, and you clamp down on it with all your might. You aren’t going to go there. Because it’s absurd, and impossible, and simply doesn’t make any sense. It would ruin your perfectly aligned plans and wreck your understanding of the world. You’re barely even friends with Nagi; why would he go through all of that trouble for you?

Instead, you elbow him, more roughly than you intend to. “Thanks, but I told you it was okay. People say stupid things all the time.”

“But I didn’t like it,” he says firmly. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

Who is this guy? Did an alien abduct the real Nagi Seishiro and replace him mid-game? It’s hard to look at him, all of a sudden, so you glance down at your shoes instead, trying to calm the pounding of your heart.

The next day, Nagi Seishiro is the talk of the school. His one-sided destruction during sports day gets passed around in whispers and rumors, and a few of your classmates now tell him good morning when he walks through the door. Still, his attitude and manner is enough to put most of them off… all but your friend, Mikage Reo.

“Play football with me!”

It’s a declaration made when you and Nagi are walking through the halls after school, Reo skirting to a stop just in front of you. He strides up to Nagi, his eyes shining in the golden afternoon sunlight.

“Don’t wanna,” Nagi says immediately.

“Why not? You have the talent, the genius… we could take the world by storm. You… could become the best player in Japan… no, the best player in the world! Be my football partner!” Reo says effusively.

Nagi glances at you. “I already have a partner.”

The term “partner” trills down your spine, but you hold up your hands at Reo’s crestfallen look. “Our deal was only for the sports meet. We’re not really partners anymore.”

Did Nagi look disappointed, or was it just a trick of the light? Either way, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I still don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Reo demands.

“It sounds boring.”

“He thinks everything is too much work,” you say, and Reo throws you a stare that screams “how did you even convince him to work with you?” You grimace in response.

“Come on, Nagi Seishiro. I’ll show you a whole new world. It won’t be boring for even a second. Play football with me!” Reo tries again, but Nagi only stares at him silently.

Nagi glances at you again (why does he keep looking at you?) and Reo, ever observant, throws his pleading in your direction.

“Please convince Nagi for me,” Reo begs. “He’ll listen to you.”

“What– I don’t–”

“We’re friends,” Reo wheedles. “Come on.”

Well. It wasn’t as if you wanted Nagi to go back to his old slacker ways, and maybe spending time with Reo would open up Nagi’s narrow world, just a bit more. “Nagi, why don’t you try it? You did really well at the sports meet. It’d be a waste to do nothing with your talent.”

“... Is football fun?” Nagi asks.

“Really fun!” Reo replies.

“And… it’s something that people have to try hard at?”

“Most people! You might be able to skate by without even practicing, though, since you’re a genius,” Reo says. “Not that I’m going to let you slack on the field, or off it.”

“Huh… no wonder the two of you get along…” he mutters, before turning the full force of his attention on you. “Is working hard, and doing your best at something… is it really that fun?”

“Huh? Well, yeah! I want to be the best I can be, and winning the relay race felt really good,” you say. “Didn’t you feel anything when you won the football match?”

“Dunno, but… hm…” You can see the rusty gears turning in his head. “I’ll go with you,” Nagi says finally to Reo. “I’ll try joining your team… but…” He points at you. “They have to come with me.”

“Huh? I’m not even good at sports,” you say defensively. “I have too much on my plate to–”

“Deal!” Reo interjects. “They can come to all our practices and games, even if they don’t join the team! Don’t go back on your word, Nagi Seishiro.”

And to your utter bafflement, you find yourself attending Nagi and Reo’s football games. Nagi, whose attitude you’re just starting to crack, suddenly turns back to an utter alien. Why did you have to attend their practices? Nagi seems content just to have you there, and Reo calls you a “lucky charm,” because apparently Nagi is more motivated when you’re around.

Sure, you pick up on enough of the terminology and mechanics of the game to bounce strategies with Reo, but you doubt you really need to be there when they have a seasoned coach. Why had Nagi really accepted Reo’s offer, too? So many mysteries surrounded him.

When you ask, Nagi only says vaguely that he accepted Reo’s offer because “he wants to learn what it means to try his best” and you have to be here because “he needs you around.” And then he failed to elaborate when you pressed him.

Truly, Nagi’s behavior doesn’t fit with anyone you’ve ever met before. How can you start to untangle the threads of his random whims? It’s impossible… which is why it leads to odd moments, like during the latest football game Reo organized.

“Nagi, what are you doing?”

Reo's exasperated voice rings out across the field. And, with the screen flashing a score of 5-0 overhead, and curious audience members staring at you and Nagi at the bench below, you can't help but find yourself echoing his sentiments. The star of your school's most recent football match is standing right in front of you, bent at a 90 degree angle so he's looking straight at the ground, his fluffy hair shoved right in front of your face.

“Nagi, what are you doing?” you say, hands still clasped together mid-clap.

“I won the game,” he says matter-of-factly.

“You did! Congratulations!”

But Nagi still doesn't move. In the distance, Reo raises his eyebrows at you, and you shrug your shoulders helplessly. Nagi, with his alien tendencies, is incomprehensible at this moment. As soon as Nagi had scored the winning shot and the timer counted to zero, he dodged all his cheering teammates and made a beeline straight to where you were sitting, bending into a strange position. And he’s been like this for the past three minutes, without any explanation.

“I won the game,” he repeats.

“I know. I was watching.”

“So you should compliment me,” Nagi says patiently, as if he were explaining a math equation to a small child.

“Huh? But I did,” you protest. “I congratulated you.”

“You should compliment me,” he says again.

This conversation could run around in circles all day. Your eyes drift to Nagi's hair, white strands sticking up in all directions. It's always messy because the only time a comb touched his head was when you were the one using it to brush his hair. Then it hits you out of the blue. No way. Did he want you to…? There’s only one way to find out.

Your hand sinks into his hair as you pat him on the head. It's just as soft as it looks, if not a bit sweaty from exercise. One pat, two pats, and then you quickly extract your hand before you lose yourself in the addicting feeling of stroking his hair. “You did a good job, Nagi. I'm proud of you.”

Nagi finally looks up, satisfied, even if the expression on his face doesn't change a bit. He tilts his head when he sees you shaking your hand slightly. “What are you doing?”

"You're sweaty," you inform him. "Next time, you only get head pats if you take a shower first."

A frown grows across Nagi's face before he drops his chin on the top of your head, arms wrapping around you and draping himself over you as if he had no strength left in his body. You shriek at the sudden, sweaty contact, nose crushed right against his jersey.

“Nagi! Cut it out!”

“Don't wanna. Too much work.”

“And it's not too much work to lean on me like this?” you ask, voice muffled from being pressed against his body.

His arms tighten around you. “Nope.”

"Nagi, you're suffocating them," Reo says, his voice startling close. He must have moved across the field while you were caught up with Nagi.

“They're okay,” Nagi says.

“No, he's right. I can’t breathe right now,” you say dryly.

Nagi loosens his grip around you, but his chin still rests on your head.

“Nagi, we need to talk about our next game,” Reo says expectantly.

“Don't wanna.”

Reo shoots you a pleading glance from around Nagi’s back. “Nagi, go with Reo to talk about your next game,” you order.

“Do I have to?” Nagi shuffles back just enough for you to see his unhappy expression, your head finally freed from his touch.

“Yes,” you and Reo both say at the same time.

“Fine,” he replies. Reo, triumphant, grabs Nagi's arm before he can make a sudden dash, and mouths a thank you before hauling Nagi away. Nagi, for his part, throws you forlorn glances as Reo drags him away, but you only wave at him, smiling.

When the two of them are gone and most of the audience has dispersed, only you and the chilly autumn sunshine remain. The wind, which hadn't been quite so cold before, is strong enough to make you pull your coat tighter around yourself.

Nagi Seishiro is the human equivalent to one of the world’s unsolvable math equations. Though the formula looks simple in theory, there’s simply no way of understanding it– or understanding him. His lackadaisical method of communication doesn’t make it any easier, either. You can’t tell if he’s genuinely obtuse, or if he doesn’t notice that other people can’t track his thought process without communication– or maybe he thinks it’s too much of a bother to try.

But you’re used to his strangeness, though– or at least, you thought you were used to it, until your classmates approached you with wide eyes and giggly whispers one day, asking if the rumors were true.

“You’re dating Nagi?” they’d asked. “The guy who’s winning all our school’s football games?”

“What?” you hissed. “Who told you that?”

“Nagi himself,” one of the girls said excitedly. “I heard someone ask him why he’s been hanging out with you so much, and he said that was because he’s your partner! Is it true? Are you two dating?”

“It’s not,” you said firmly. “It really isn’t!” you added when the girls looked at you doubtfully. Your heart sank, because if these girls were approaching you, then that’d meant the rumors had spread around the entire school already. If there’s one thing your classmates liked to do, it was gossip.

That’s how you end up dragging Nagi to the roof after school, running up the empty staircase and through streaks of lazy sunshine until you’re back where it all started, the space you onced shared like two planets orbiting the same sun, never interacting.

Now, standing across from the culprit of all the rumors, you tilt your head at Nagi, who tilts his head in the same direction as a response. His sleepy eyes bore into your own, tracking your movements like a puppy.

“Nagi, have you been telling people I’m your partner?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you doing that?”

“Because it’s true,” he says.

“But…! People have been saying we’re dating!”

Nagi tilts his head. “Oh. It was too much of a pain to correct them. I said we were partners, and then they started giggling, saying stuff like ‘I knew it! They’re dating!’ and left before I could say anything else. Is it bad that they think we’re dating?”

“It is! Because it’s not true at all!”

“We study together and game together ,” he says. “And help each other out. And spend all our time together. So aren’t we partners?”

“Well… this and that are two different things… Being someone’s romantic partner and being someone’s platonic partner are… they’re not the same. I’m just saying, you only date someone you like romantically!”

“Oh. Well, I like you,” he says simply. “So then it’s okay for us to date.”

You feel like someone has just shot you into outer space without a map, and you’re floating around, trying to get your bearings without gravity for the first time. “Huh?”

“I like you,” he repeats. “So, then it’s okay for people to think we’re dating, right? Oh. We could start dating for real, and then that would also clear up the rumors.”

Dating… Dating Nagi? He looks satisfied, nodding to himself as if he’s figured out a particularly complicated equation, but you’re more lost than ever. Romance? Love? Those thoughts have never even crossed your mind. You figured you’d get to them eventually, but the most important thing in your life was success. You weren’t ready yet! You don’t have a plan prepared! Besides, why would he like you? When did feelings have time to grow? If anything, shouldn’t Nagi be annoyed with you for interrupting his peaceful lifestyle?

You can’t map this situation at all. You have no previous references to draw back on other than the girls and boys who asked Reo out throughout the years. Romance should be simple, you’d thought as Reo chased his admirers off. Romance should be simple, and easy, something you can chart and track and understand. There should be a formula to it, just like everything else in life.

“I don’t have time to date,” you say. “I have to focus on my priorities, like… like getting into a good university.”

Nagi shrugs. “Oh. We can date when we’re in university, then.”

“But…!”

“Do you not like me?” he asks seriously.

You open your mouth, but you can’t think of any of a proper rebuttal. You should just say no, but… did you really not like Nagi? Not at all? Not when he went along with your plans, defended you during sports day, wanted you at all his games, and told you he liked you, no games, no pretense, no calculations?

“... I can’t answer that,” you say lamely.

“Then take your time,” he says.

“But…”

“I like you,” he says. “But if you don’t like me or you don’t want to date, then I’m okay with just being by your side.”

Why couldn’t such a simple answer ever come so easily to you, like it does to Nagi? “It’s weird,” you say quietly, looking down at your feet, “It’s weird not understanding my feelings. I want to understand everything. I wish it were easy.”

“But isn’t it tiring thinking so hard all the time? Sometimes, you can’t think through something. You just have to deal with it,” Nagi says slowly. “But… I like the part of you that tries hard and wants to do everything you can.”

Maybe it’s the sunlight, or the bright blue sky behind him, but Nagi is so brilliant your eyes are drawn to him. Is this what he meant, back during sports day, about shining so brightly he couldn’t look away?

“Stop telling people we’re dating, though,” you grumble.

“Yes, boss.”

—

Mikage Reo, someone you once thought was your friend, is laughing at you. He’s laughing at you, and everytime you think he’s stopped, he takes one look at you and bursts out laughing again. Mercifully, at least, there’s no one in the classroom to witness your humiliation.

“You really think you could make a plan for your love life, like how you plan for classes?” he snickers. “You know, relationships are a lot more complicated than you give them credit for.”

“Hey! In most cases, there is a set pattern to romance.”

“A pattern? Set by who?” Reo asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Well… in the books I’ve read… and video games I’ve played… I think there’s a common–”

“From stories! Not from real people? Do you know real life is different from books?” Reo cuts in. “Emotions don’t operate on a cut and dry principle.”

“But there is rationality behind emotions,” you argue. “The way people react to certain situations, according to their personality and environment, and–”

“You’re a nerd,” Reo says bluntly. “You can’t predict everything, you know.”

“I can try,” you say blithely, but Reo rolls his eyes.

“Poor Nagi,” Reo says with a sigh. “This is what happens when he actually tries hard at something!”

“Poor me. I can’t believe he started telling people we were dating without asking me first,” you grumble, and Reo starts laughing again.

“The two of you are hilarious,” he says, wiping away the tears forming in his eyes. “I haven’t laughed so hard in ages.”

“At least someone is enjoying this.”

Reo pats you on the back. “But don’t you think you’re underestimating Nagi?”

“What do you mean?”

“You keep trying to quantify him, but are you really listening to what he’s saying?” Reo asks. “Can’t you just accept that there are some things you won’t understand?”

“But–”

“Do you really not know how you feel about him?” Reo presses. “Don’t string him along. Reject him, or go out with him, but you can’t make him wait to sort out your feelings forever.”

“I know! I know that. But…” You scuff at the floor with your shoe. Reo is right, as loath as you are to admit it. It’s not fair to Nagi to make him wait. And… maybe Nagi isn’t the alien here. Maybe you are, because you’ve tried so hard to turn everything into precise data points so you can understand the human beings around you and the planet you inhabit. Maybe that’s your only option to stave off the fear and the vulnerability the complete randomness of the universe creates.

“I’m not trying to be a jerk to you,” Reo says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t want you to get hurt either, you know. But you can’t keep running forever.”

“I’m not running,” you say.

Reo hums, but then nods to himself, as if coming to a decision. “Do you know why Nagi joined the football team?”

“Because we pestered him into joining?” you grumble.

“No. He told me it’s because he wanted to be more like you.”

“Like me…?”

“He admires you for having goals,” Reo says simply. “For always trying your best. And he wants to understand what it’s like to care so much about something. He wants to learn how to understand you, which is amazing, don’t you think? He doesn’t really seem like the guy who’s ever put much effort into anything before.”

He joined because he admired you? You feel a strange heat in your chest. Nagi, who’s trying to understand something. And you, who has to stop trying to understand everything. What a strange pair you make.

Reo smiles slightly, but you can’t help but find it unbearably smug, the meddler. Why did he have to say the right words to send your thoughts spiraling? “Why don’t you try looking at this from a different angle? What sort of guys do you like?” Reo says abruptly.

“Successful and rich guys,” you say automatically.

“You like successful and rich guys?” Nagi says, and both you and Reo whirl around at the sudden intrusion into your classroom. How much has he heard? You’re panicking as Nagi raises a hand in greeting, but he suddenly frowns. Oh no. Oh no– but he promptly marches over and snatches Reo’s hand off your shoulder, patting off imaginary specks of dust.

“Petty…” Reo mutters, but neither of you acknowledge him.

“What are you doing here?” you say.

“I wanted to see you,” Nagi replies.

You kick Reo’s leg just as he starts shooting you self-satisfied glances. Reo winces, then lightly jabs you in the ribs with his elbow.

“Don’t hit them,” Nagi says to Reo.

“Huh? But they kicked me first!”

Nagi shrugs. “That’s okay.”

“I don’t like this double standard. You’re ganging up on me,” Reo accuses.

“That’s your problem,” you tell Reo loftily.

Nagi calls your name softly. “Are you free on the weekend?”

“Yes. Oh, did you want to study for the history test together?” you ask, grateful for a change in subject.

“Test?”

“... I’ll be there on Sunday afternoon.”

“Okay, boss,” Nagi says.

With nothing left to discuss, you all start your separate paths home. Reo flashes you one last thumbs up before the three of you part. “Good luck!” he calls.

“Thanks,” you say. Because like it or not, this weekend is going to be the first time you’re alone with Nagi after his confession.

—

On the weekend, you take the subway to Nagi’s house. The ride is only twenty minutes, but you spend the entire time leaning your forehead against the cool glass of the window, scenery flashing by in a muted blur. What’s going to happen? You haven’t even responded to Nagi’s confession yet, and your heart drums nervously in your chest.

But Nagi’s house, you discover, is surprisingly ordinary. When you ring the doorbell, it takes a few seconds for him to amble down, wrinkled clothes and sloppy hair revealing that he just crawled out of bed.

“Welcome,” he says, and leans over as you run your fingers through his hair, causing the strands to spike up. Soft and silky, despite the fact he puts zero effort into its maintenance.

“Do you even know what I’m here for?”

“... To game?”

“To study!” you correct, shooing him back inside. You take off your shoes at the entryway, changing into house slippers, and the two of you settle down in the living room. There’s only a couch, a low table and a rug, and a television set in the corner. It’s sparse but clean, so it’s possible Nagi has to hire someone to clean his house, because you doubt he does it on his own.

You pile your textbooks on the table, folding your legs underneath yourself as you flip through your notes. “So… did you study for the test next week?”

“We have a test?” Nagi says, picking up your pencil case.

You slap his hand. “Yes! In history. Did you forget already? I just told you last Friday!”

“You were going to come over, so… I was too excited. I forgot.”

“Am I just supposed to remember everything for you? You need to take initiative,” you say, exasperated, ignoring the fluttering in your chest. So he’d been excited to see you? No, those sorts of thoughts were irrelevant. “Look through the textbook. I marked everything I thought might be on the test.” You slide the book to Nagi, who dutifully picks it up before immediately lying on his side.

“Sit up. You’ll get a headache,” you say, and Nagi slides back into a cross-legged position, resting the book on his lap.

It’s quiet except for the scratching of your pencil and the rustle of pages. When you glance at Nagi to check his process, he’s diligently looking through the textbook, absorbed into reading each section you carefully marked. He’s oblivious to the emotional turmoil that you’re experiencing just by sitting across a table from him; how had you been able to act so casually before? Now, you’re hyper-aware of his presence, his soft sighs, his loose posture, the eyelashes shading across his cheeks.

Out of the blue, Nagi speaks. “You said I can ask you if I have any questions, right?”

You hum, tracing your finger down the text you highlighted. “Yes. Got a question about a passage?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“Can I tell you that you’re cute?”

“That’s… that’s not related to studying,” you try to scold, but your voice is weak even to your own ears.

“Sorry. But I didn’t know if I was allowed to tell you or not,” Nagi says.

“I…” You try to stand, try to find an excuse to leave the room for a second, but your legs have fallen asleep from being in the same cramped position for so long. You stumble, and Nagi, moving faster than you’ve ever seen him, is by your side in a heartbeat.

“Are you okay?” he says, and his concerned face is hovering inches from your own. Somehow, you ended up sliding on the floor, Nagi’s arms caging you in on both sides. Your face is on fire, and somehow, you still have a tight grip on your notes. You nod, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his eyes linger on your lips.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Nagi says. He leans in closer, and you squeak, raising your notes to block his lips. His eyes are earnest, gaze fixed solely on you, like you’re the only person in his world.

“Well… that’s not…”

“I can wait for you,” he says quietly, “But you told me not to run away from you. So don’t run away from me, either.”

Your cheeks are burning. There’s no more excuses left. You had already run out of them, long ago. “You can. But I’ve never kissed anyone before,” you murmur. “Reo is the one with all the experience–”

“Call me by my first name,” Nagi interrupts.

“What?”

“You call Reo by his first name,” he says. “Call me by mine, too. It’s not fair, otherwise.”

“That’s so childish!”

“I’m not moving until you do,” Nagi says stubbornly.

“Fine.” You take a breath. “S… Seishiro. Is that better?”

“Yeah.” His hands grip your wrists gently, the touch sending shockwaves through your entire nervous system.

The notebook flutters to the floor as Nagi leans in to kiss you. Like everything he does seriously, it brims with an intensity that steals your breath away. He tastes sweet, like the candy he snacks on, and you cup his face, pulling him closer.

When you break apart, Nagi rests his forehead against yours. “It’s a lot of work,” he says, “but I’m thinking of playing football professionally.”

“Really? Wow! You have the talent to pull it off,” you say. “Reo finally convinced you to go pro?”

“You said you liked successful guys,” Nagi says simply. “So I have to work hard to be successful.”

“I did! But Seishiro…” You kiss him again, because he’s just so cute, and murmur against his lips, “Forget about my type. The only guy I like is you.”

#liya writes #blue lock #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #blue lock x reader #x reader #nagi seishirou #nagi seishirou x reader #seishiro nagi #seishiro nagi x reader #YEAH HE HAS ME IN A DEATH GRIP. SORRY.#couldnt finish work until i had this done bc it absorbed all my attention

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shirozora-draws · 1 year

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Y'all are getting a twofer this weekend. I'm supposed to be writing the next Gravity Well chapter but when have I ever been able to wrangle my impulses?

Not that this is in any way related to the 3quelfic, but I wanted to brainstorm sleeping quarters on a heavily modified Auzituck gunship and then got lost in the sauce in my newer CSP brushes. This is all in service of future fic illustrations, don't judge me.

May or may not work on a third sketch based on a pre-ANH meet-cute before the weekend is over. I hope not. I really need to write.

#shirozora draws #dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker #the mandalorian #star wars #the power of a giant nitro cold brew with two shots of espresso #is the ability to stay sharp and draw like a mad lad for over 10 hours despite having an extremely sleep-deprived work week.#this ship has a grip on my soul and i am here for it #BUT I REALLY NEED TO WRITE. KICK MY ASS IF I TRY TO DO EVERYTHING BUT WRITE #it's 4:15 AM and I am going tf to sleep

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llondonfog · 8 months

Note

Wailing about “you love me so you’ll love my child” but w melleanor and silver

"—and do not let Vanrouge within twenty meters of the kitchens, is that clear, Counselor? Inform the kitchen staff that they have my exact permission to maim him on sight with the nearest sharp object. Oh, do not duck your face like a quivering kitten as if I cannot see that grimace, Counselor— that man has survived much worse and scraped through with life and limb and still persists to terrorize us all with his presence, isn't that right, my dear one?"

From within her arms, Lilia's child coos and babbles something far more intelligent than her trailing, fretful advisors back at her, and she taps a dark painted talon delicately against its plush cheek in fond agreement.

Lilia's child.

Meleanor rolls the words silently within her mouth, holds them there to taste the strange, but pleasant, flavor of their meaning.

Of all the fae in all their lands, who would have ever dared to dream that Lilia Vanrouge would take to a child like a fish to water, or a fledgling to the skies?

She can still hear him now, grumbling and griping so about the burden of children, their helplessness and neediness as unnecessarily weak creatures. In a rare form of mercy, not once did she pry— for how could she, when she knew the answer even if it was not in specifics? When fae were perishing at the hands of humankind's avaricious cruelty, how could she dare chastise him when she was so certain that Lilia's bitterness only existed towards himself?

Her hypothesis had been proven correct when her most trusted General had been present for Malleus' hatching, a softness that she had only seen once before smoothing the harsh lines of his battle-weary gaze. Perhaps she had the right of bias; it was only correct that anyone melt at the sight of her darling son, chirping and mewling miniature fonts of emerald flame.

But that softness had reappeared tenfold when Lilia had knelt before her in the privacy of her chambers where no other fae save for two were ever allowed, revealing the swaddled contents of his cloak with a desperate, fervent need for approval.

He woke for me, she remembers her oldest friend confessing in a voice choked with awe and an emotion that had nearly frightened her (her!) with its intensity. Meleanor, do you understand what this means? He is the son of our enemy, lost and forgotten by time, and he woke for me.

Oh, she had understood as perfectly then as she does now. It was for that reason alone that she had stayed her hand from where it had been readied to smite the child from Lilia's arms, to strip it from existence out of fear that it had somehow bewitched the one fae with more reason to detest humanity than all the rest.

True love was so rare in this world; it had taken her centuries to find her heart's desire. How could she wrest that from Lilia, as he kneels before her and bares his soul, staring down at the sleeping infant cradled in his arms with a delicate strength she did not know him to possess and the dazed look of a parent struck with the dazzling knowledge that the child they hold is more perfect than any creature alive on the earth?

She could not— the proof of which rests in her arms and happily teethes on strands of her gleaming hair, warm and soft and heavy in the sweet way of babes.

"And that is why we cannot allow your pathetic wretch of a father to ruin the celebration of your first blessing, isn't that right— Silver?"

#lettie's asks #twst spoilers #anon the way this thought gripped me......#i didn't mean for it to be a drabble #but here we are :')#lettie writes #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #meleanor draconia #twst meleanor #twst chapter 7

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harmonysanreads · 3 months

Text

Happy Birthday...!

feat. vampire!alhaitham

cw(s) : two dorks being too adorable, smitten alhaitham

wc : 1.4k

Every so often, Alhaitham could be found in profound contemplation in the study of his imposing mansion. Books strewn about, some half open and some in piles beside his chair and utop his desk—though the material of his perusal remains hard to deduce.

An amateur mistake would entail that Alhaitham wasn't in deep thought at all, but in a slumber and that could be credible, if you were to disregard his species' characteristics altogether. Though Alhaitham assumes a relaxed position, his senses are never in the same state of inertia. His ears pick up on tip-toeing footsteps, the vibrations registering as familiar in his sharp mind. These playful tricks could fool any ordinary human, not a vampire capable of catching the pressure applied in those pattering sounds.

He knows it's you, can predict you have a surprise in your hands and can envision the playful smile that must undoubtedly be stretching across your lips. But he does not move an inch, does not give any indication that he's aware. Alhaitham is not known for frivolity and neither would he be inclined to encourage such behavior if this was anyone else. Perhaps every action of an intellectual appears to bear some motive to the audience, or simply the intention is interpreted.

Nevertheless, Alhaitham continues to act his part, giving all the reactions you expect. Appearing to be startled when your arms wrap around his neck but before he has the chance to respond, you swivel in front of him after pressing a chaste kiss under his jaw. Turquoise eyes widen, for that he didn't see coming. He can only thank that blood never rushes to coat his skin pink as you stand in all your giddiness before him and dear vampire lords, are you the brightest.

“Happy birthday!”

The vampire blinks, vacillating between your expectant expression and at the ‘gift’ you eagerly present to him.

Ah, so that's the occasion. Alhaitham has always thought that humans were a bit too passionate about celebrating the day they were born. Such customs are not performed among his kin, for a vampire's ‘birthday’ is just a bitter reminder of their eternal damnation. But, you don't know that. Tied to your mortal sentimentalities and well wishes ; he knows of your sole and innocent wish to make him happy.

So, he carefully takes the wrapped object in one hand and grasps your outstretched palm in the other, gently guiding you to his lap. His unbeating heart swells when you follow him without the slightest hesitation.

“Thank you, what is the gift?”

“No no, you aren't supposed to ask me that, Haitham! You have to open it yourself.”

You chide him with a raised finger and one of his brows quirks up. He's still not yet accustomed to every nuance of human behavior but, for you, he continues learning.

“Apologies, let me correct myself then.”

Alhaitham undoes the ribbon and wrapping paper, putting them aside to feel the coolness of the ceramic mug on his hand. Orange pupils squint to capture the details, turquoise painting and the words ‘best vampire’ boldly printed in black in the mug's body.

“Do you like it?” your hopeful tone snaps him out of his inspection. If this had been even fifty years ago, he wouldn't have stopped a confused frown from showing. Or, if the object had been handed by someone else, he wouldn't have considered it anything less than a joke.

“I...yes, I do like it. I wasn't aware that I was the ‘best vampire’ in your eyes. But then again, have you met other ones?” Alhaitham asks smoothly, feigning indifference to the sardonic prospect that you might have.

“Not at all! But you know the stories of vampires everyone tells, they're usually so scary, mean and selfish. You're none of those, you're intelligent, calm and have the softest heart—which is why, you're the best.”

Alhaitham appraises your confident answer with a humorful look, surely you must not think he's like this with everyone else? But, he doesn't correct you at all, feeling almost inebriated by your heartfelt words. It's also a bonus that his ego swells, he's still like any other man in some aspects.

“You know, I actually wanted to add a mosquito and bat sticker to the mug.”

That yanks Alhaitham out of his bliss.

“A.. mosquito?”

“Yes..? Aren't you essentially an overgrown mosquito? You know, both of you rely on blood to survive?” you question innocuously, shifting in his lap nonchalantly.

Alhaitham's jaw slackens, not knowing whether to be offended or amused. If this was inquired of any other vampire, you would not be able to get a second sentence out. But, he identifies this as a lack of knowledge and decides informing you would be best.

“That is a grave misconception. Because only female mosquitoes drink blood, during the time they bear eggs, more precisely.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape in understanding, quickly morphing to a sheepish expression. “I’m really sorry…”

Alhaitham waves it off, pausing when he remembers something, “You also mentioned a bat sticker, why?”

This time you look up at him in barely restrained excitement, “I've wanted to ask this for the longest time! You can transform into a bat, right?”

“No, I can't.” your shoulders slump slightly.

“Then.. will you turn to ash if you come into contact with sunlight?”

“While prolonged exposure to sunlight can kill a vampire, we've evolved to be able to withstand marginal exposition. It's not as deadly as the movies portray it.” your expression falls but he notices some semblances of relief. Huh, were you worried for him?

You try again, “W-well, will you die if you eat garlic?”

“Garlic makes me allergic. Its scent is pungent and irritating. Not much different than human allergies.”

This time, Alhaitham doesn't bother masking his amusement at your pout, “Was everything I've known about vampires a lie?”

One of the first traits Alhaitham had noticed about you was your curious nature and eagerness to learn new things. You'd always be on the lookout for an opportunity to ask him questions regarding his vampire roots in particular, preferably when you deemed he was in a good mood. Most of the time though, you opted to make your own observations. It seemed both of you were the most interesting creature on Teyvat in each other's eyes.

The vampire puts the ceramic mug aside on the table, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. He tilts up your downcast face with a finger beneath your chin, “It's not your fault that human media portray vampires in that particular light and weave these stereotypes. You know only what you've been shown.”

Ashen locks tickle your skin, “You’re not mad at me..?”

“Not at all.” how could he ever be upset with you?

Alhaitham sighs in relief when your smile returns in full force, turquoise eyes slowly shift to your neck, the pulse there beating with the essence of your psyche. A frown marrs his impeccable features as a thought passes by his mind. Humans cherish every year of their lifespan due to the limitation of it. They're fragile, susceptible to the whims of time. But instead of lamenting their inevitable end, they choose to celebrate and foster the memories acquired within their short lives. He's not subjected to the same laws, the shadow of death will not fall upon him as a result of old age.

He'd pondered about this mortality but never worried about those subjected to it. However, as he feels the warmth of your body envelop his cold one and cradles this vessel of the purest soul he's encountered — he can't stop a bolt of paranoia from racing down his spine. What would he do if he could never hold you again like this?

His thoughts are interrupted when he feels your arms around his shoulders again, your warmth presses against him. For a moment, Alhaitham stays still and stunned, all his senses focusing on your proximity, your scent and the beating of your heart. You don't say anything more, letting all your reassurance seep through that sweet embrace. A canopy of serenity drapes over the vampire and he returns your hug to imbibe these feelings deep in his soul.

His hand brushes along your back a few times before coming to a halt, “[ Name ],”

“Yes?” your hum tickles the skin of his shoulder.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

A beat of silence passes, Alhaitham was so caught up in the flurry of events that he completely missed the white shirt hanging loosely on your figure. Albeit, he's anything but irritated at this revelation, you could take his entire wardrobe and he'd thank you.

“Teehee~”

Alhaitham places a reverent kiss on your pulse, smiling as your mischievous giggle reaches his ear.

Just for this moment, he supposes he can forget the rules and restrictions of this wretched world and indulge in your presence.

[more vampire!alhaitham content]

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