#i love drawing him in this outfit its such a blast every time
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i have one final Bardaby from my last wb sesh...
#i quite like this one ngl!#he looks very burly here... im not against it...#drawing barn with teeth with never not be fun#its a little treat! for Me!#scribble salad#wh fantasy au#i love drawing him in this outfit its such a blast every time#fancy fella....
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SHY - M. STURNIOLO
summary: madi invites you to meet and hang out with the triplets at top golf, and you find yourself oddly nervous around matt.
warnings: fluff fluff fluff
part 1 | part 2
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“please just come with me? i promise they’re nice guys,” madi begs you.
“i guess i’ll go… but you owe me big time madi,” you groan through the facetime call.
a smile grows on her face, “yay! thank you! you’re the best! the triplets are gonna pick me up at 12:30, and then i’ll have them pick you up after me. so expect us at around 12:45, okay?”
you sigh, “okay, perfect.”
“thank you again, y/n. i promise you won’t regret it,” she says and she hangs up to go get ready. you look at the clock and see that it’s 10:30, giving you about two hours to get ready. even if you don’t need that much time to get ready, you’d rather look your best than your worst. after curating the best outfit you can, you finish your makeup and hair, making sure you look halfway decent. it’s now about 12 and you take the next 45 minutes to mentally prepare yourself, seeing as you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of them.
your phone buzzes, grabbing your attention to madi’s contact on the screen letting you know they’re outside. you huff and grab your house keys and wallet, locking the door behind you as you exit. as you approach the car, you see two brunette boys in the front staring at their phone screens.
thankfully madi opens the door for you from the inside, drawing the attention of all three boys. “hi y/n! guys this is y/n, my favorite person ever so of course i wanted you guys to meet her,” madi smiles, making you roll your eyes playfully.
“hi y/n! i’m nick,” nick smiles sweetly, immediately making you feel a little less nervous.
“hi nick! it’s really nice to meet you, and i love your hair,” you smile. immediately chris turns around in his seat to look at you, “and im chris, the best triplet don’t let them fool you,” he smiles, giving you a little head nod.
you chuckle slightly, “well it’s nice to meet you chris,” you say. lastly, matt turns his head to the right to look at chris smacking his shoulder for what he said. he then turns his head a little bit further to face you.
“and i’m matt, the only triplet who actually has their head screwed on,” he smiles at you. you let out a laugh, “well, it’s really nice to meet you matt,” you say. as he turns his head to face the front of the car you blush little, hoping to god that he didn’t see.
you all drive to top golf, blasting music the whole way there. you gradually feel the nerves leave your body as you quickly notice that they’re a very welcome group of people. but the one thing that won’t go away is the pit in your stomach every time matt speaks or even looks at you.
“you okay?” madi asks as you walk into top golf.
“yeah i’m actually doing great!” you smile, and she smiles back at you with a big soft grin. you, madi, and nick get caught up in a conversation while matt and chris get everything set up at the front desk. you’re all distracted, when suddenly chris comes over waving in your guys’ faces, basically jumping around with excitement.“come on guys let’s gooo!” he exclaims, dragging out the ‘o.’
you sit down at the table, and chris loudly calls dibs on the first hit. you watch him practice his swings, when suddenly the spot on the couch next to you dips in. you look to your left, and you see matt sitting with his arm around the back of the couch, and his right ankle resting on his left knee. that pit in your stomach appears again, and you quickly look away before he can realize you’re staring at him.
eventually everyone but you has gone, and you suddenly feel really nervous. “okay y/n, your turn!” chris exclaims.
“oh god, this is gonna be awful. i’ve never golfed before,” you nervously chuckle. you have a bad habit of playing with your fingers and jewelry when you’re nervous, and apparently its evident that you‘re doing that because matt seems to notice.
“here, i’ll help you,” he smiles, sticking his hand out to help you off of the couch. you gently take his hand, praying your hands aren’t clammy with nervous sweat. as you stand on the little faux grass, he stands a respectful distance behind you and places your hands in the right positions on the club. he then puts his hands not too far under yours, and you can feel your heart beating out of your chest. it’s beating so loudly in your ears that you assume matt can hear it too.
as matt tells you how to swing the club, you notice madi and nick giggling to themselves, with chris sitting next to them oblivious to their antics. you already know madi and nick are gonna hold this against both you and matt.
you both swing the club in unison, hitting the ball far across the green. you gasp, and immediately turn around to give matt a high five. as your hands touch, you can feel that pit coming back again. your cheeks are on fire and you know everyone can see it, so you immediately sit down next to madi who gives you a big, sneaky grin.
after another hour of golfing, which consisted of you trying to avoid matt at all costs, it begins to get dark out. “do you guys want to get dinner somewhere before we drop you guys off?” nick asks.
“sure! is that good with you guys?” matt asks, looking at you and madi. you both look at each other and nod, turning back to matt with smiles.
“oh fuck yes, thank god! i’m starving!” chris blurts out, making everyone let out a little laugh. you all drive to the closest in n out, and you and madi sit next to each other at the booth while chris waits at the counter for the food.
“we’ll get you guys your drinks. what do you guys want?” nick asks, gesturing to him and matt.
“i’ll take a sprite please,” you smile, sliding your cup to the end of the table. matt grabs it, seeing as nick already took madi’s cup.
“one sprite coming right up!” matt smiles at you, making you blush. “thanks matt,” you smile, biting your cheeks nervously. nick gives a look to madi, but you just ignore it. as nick walks away, immediately madi turns to you and starts shaking your shoulders. “oh my god! you and matt are so flirty!”
a lump begins to form in your throat, “w-what? what are you talking about?”
“oh don’t play stupid. it’s obvious that you’re both into each other! i mean the matt i know would never offer to help someone golf, or even get fill up their drink for them!” madi exclaims, watching closely to make sure the guys aren’t coming back.
“i- w- what?” you say, utterly at a loss for words. quickly madi shushes you, and turns back to face the boys. matt slides you your drink, and you thank him as he gets into the booth on the opposite side of you and madi.
nick sits next to you, leaving chris and open spot next to matt. eventually he brings the tray of food over and you all begin to dig in, sharing a couple of large fries as well. “oh y/n! can i get your insta? i had a lot of fun today,” nick blurts out with a smile, sliding his phone to you.
“oh yeah, can i have it too?” matt asks, making you bite your cheeks and nod as you look down at nicks phone.
“jeez guys, you’re making me feel so popular!” you joke, following yourself from nicks phone.
“well, you’re actually a really fun person, unlike madi. even if you’re god awful at golfing,” chris jokes. madi just flips him off and he and nick laugh.
“chris be nice! i think y/n is a pretty decent golfer,” matt says hitting chris’ arm. and once again, your cheeks flare up with heat.
“no no, he has a point,” you laugh, typing your insta into matt’s phone as you speak. as you do so, madi nudges your leg under the table making you squirm a little, but thankfully it goes unnoticed by everyone. after all three of them get your insta, you all clean up the table and head back into the car.
you and madi decided to spend the night at madi’s house to make it easier for the triplets to drop you guys off. as you and madi walk up her walkway, matt leans over chris and rolls down the passenger window, “bye guys! it was really nice to meet you y/n!”
“it was nice to meet you guys too!” you smile, waving them off as they drive away.
“see! i told you he’s into you, y/n!” madi winks, making you roll yours eyes.
“yeah yeah, whatever,” you laugh, laying down on madi’s bed. as you scroll through insta, you get a dm from nick.
hey y/n! we had a lot of fun today, and we were wondering if you and madi wanted to be in a video next week? you totally don’t have to if you don’t want to, but i know that we’d all love to see you again!
of course you show madi the dm, and that sneaky grin from before appears on her face again. “say yes! say yes!” she says, practically jumping around her room.
“what the hell is that smirk on your face for?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at her.
“what smirk?” she plays dumb, holding back her laughter.
“that one! you’re doing it again! i swear to god madi! you better tell me what the hell is going on, or else i’m gonna seriously slap you!” you exclaim.
“fine! fine! but i’ll only tell you if you say yes to nick first,” she shrugs.
“okay…” you oblige, anxious to hear madi’s answer. she watches as you press send, and immediately you throw your phone somewhere on the bed and look her in the eyes. “now tell me what’s going on madi!”
“well… me and nick noticed the obvious connection between you and matt… so we may or may not have set up a plan to try and get you guys to fall in love by hanging out more…” she bashfully admits, making your jaw drop.
“madi filipowicz!” you say, playfully hitting her with one of her pillows.
“well… looks like you’ll be seeing him on tuesday, so no getting out of it now!” she laughs, showing you nicks reply to your dm. you groan and shove your faces into the pillows in an attempt to hide your now rose colored cheeks.
“i hate you madi.”
“mhm, sure you do.”
—
don’t forget to go read part 2!!
#matthew sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo imagine#christopher sturniolo imagine#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fanfic
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What Star Trek headcannons do you have?
*cracks knuckles* tng headcanons infodumping time (i havent finished tng yet but i have projected very very hard onto several characters and also made everyone on this ship bisexual bc i can)
picard:
worlds grumpiest polyam gray aroace bi man
i think if he had a grape fanta he would simply Die. not in a good way. actually any soda i think i could kill this guy with a baja blast
hes absolutely not dating riker but like half the ship thinks he is. also theyve screwed like twice but platonically dw abt it
hes dating both dr crusher and q. because i say so
riker:
TRANS MAN RIKER SUPREMACY!!! RIKER IS SO TRANS BC I SAY SO ‼️‼️
hes polyam and also arospec. i think hed like the label aroallo but gray aromantic allo bisexual is more accurate
hes dating like Everyone. data, troi, dr crusher, worf, geordi. my mans is absolutely rolling in romantic/sexual partners
he takes time to take every single one of them on dates catered to them and is absurdly romantic whenever he gets the chance. think rose petals and chocolate and violins
he doesnt ENCOURAGE rumours that he and the captain are dating but he doesnt DISCOURAGE them either
geordi:
pathetic little bisexual man. puts him in the oven
hes dating riker (everyone is dating riker lmao) and in a borderline romantic qpr with data (he calls data his boyfriend but also likes to clarify its not quite Dating since data is aroace)
data and geordi have sherlock holmes rp date nights. this one isnt even a hc actually pretty sure they literally do this in canon
worf:
aroallo bi worf is real and true i would know i was the enterprise
he acts like he hates rikers stupid romantic bs whenever he takes worf on dates (usually they end up just going to a holodeck and duking it out homoerotically afterwards anyways) but then he lays awake at night thinking about riker like 😳
i think he likes drawing skulls. i have exactly 0 canon to back this up but i think he would enjoy drawing skulls
data (can you tell hes my favourite lmao):
spends literal hours researching romantic/sexual relationships so he can be a good partner to geordi and riker even tho he considers himself aroace. usually comes up with something stupidly cheesy (even worse than riker) for dates and they both absolutely adore him for it
polyam aroace bi, and also he/him agender. because i said so
data likes to bonk his head on his partners as a show of affection. its like a kiss on the cheek/forehead except youre getting BONKED by an android
one of my moots (data la forge maybe?) said something about data purring and like thats actually canon as stated before i would know i was the enterprise
also he likes to lay his head on geordis lap. because I Said So
he is included in Girls Nights. he and keiko and troi and dr crusher all get together and he listens to their gossip while they paint his nails and do his makeup
troi:
troi tops. 100%
shes in a relationship both dr crusher and riker, and also had a thing going with tasha yar before she died
i think she considers herself poly bi with a preference for men, but she usually ends up in lasting relationships with women
i feel like she and riker are more of a qpr/fwb situation rather than a romantic one. theyre besties who are also soulbound and also love each other and also fuck nasty sometimes
dr crusher:
pansexual. did you see the way she literally did not care about gender when her parasite lover became a woman?? this is a pansexual
she likes helping data get ready for dates n stuff. they hang out in her quarters and she does his hair and picks out outfits and gives him advice
wesley:
him and his gf from that one episode (robin i think her name was??) are t4t. i base this on my Divine Intuition
summons a large eagle to carry him off into the night
q:
i want to call this man every slur i know. horrid creature. kisses him on the forehead
has no connection to gender identity or sexuality. hes probably aspec but identifies only as queer bc Q
he and picard have fucked nasty at least once. theres no way they havent
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The Long Way Home
Part 1 - It’s Ok To Want More
Summary: A hardworking creative discovers she can’t girlboss her way out of wanting more out of life and turns to Right to Love Matchmaking for assistance.
Pairing: Commander Thorn x fem!Reader (designer/seamstress) (no y/n, no physical descriptions)
Warnings: very mild suggestive thoughts
A/N: Y’all are the first to get to meet two of my OC’s! Blizzard, a former member of the 212th, and Daria Trace, matchmaker extraordinaire 💙💙 This is the set up, date to come in chapter 2
Rating: T
Word Count: 1325
Running an upscale boutique on Coruscant had its perks. Your clients ranged from bored debutants spending daddy’s cash to senators and their aids. The gossip was always top notch, and you frequently caught wind of scandals before any journalist was even close.
Despite your popularity, most of your clientele paid you little attention. This would have bothered most people, but you preferred it this way. You’d slip in one earbud and soundtrack their unintended exposes while you worked.
In between clients, you’d often spend time arranging your window displays. It was something you did for fun because the majority of your clients came to you based solely on word of mouth.
You were setting up an elaborate display for the coming holidays when you looked out to see a few couples here and there. No elaborate displays of public affection, just the gentle gestures of new love and old love alike.
Fingers laced together. Kisses pressed to temples. Soft smiles and knowing glances.
Your heart gave a pitiful twinge, and your turned back to your mannequins and fabrics.
You had stopped making time for love a long time ago. You weren’t willing to put your passion, your livelihood on the back burner for disappointment and mediocre sex. But you’d seen ads for that new matchmaking service everywhere you went lately, and the uptick in happy couples was impossible to miss.
It was hard to resist the fantasy of a comfortable love. The gentle brush of fingers over your face after a long day to welcome you home. Waking up to kisses and snuggles. Someone to make you miss your train because they had to have you one more time.
You shook your head and reigned in your thoughts. You had work to do, and lusting after a life the Maker hadn’t intended for you was distracting and painful. You didn’t have time for either one.
Yet day after day you found yourself taking the long way home. Your steps carrying you past Right To Love’s offices.
***
It was the blasted bridal show that did you in. Surrounded by fabrics in every color from brilliant white to darkest black, and exhilarated brides, your heart demanded your attention.
Your work-focused brain had been running things long enough, and your starving heart could not be silenced. Work was fulfilling, but it didn’t call you sweet names, draw a bath for you, or make you shake with pleasure in the dark.
It’s ok to want love. I can ask for more. You thought, taking a deep breath as you waltzed into Right to Love’s lobby.
“Hello, welcome to Right To Love. Are you here for an evaluation and profile submission?” A clone dressed in a smart, well-tailored outfit asked from behind a sleek white desk. His name tag identified him as Blizzard.
“I think so,” you cleared your throat. “Yes, yes I am.”
“It’s ok to be nervous.” Chilly name aside, Blizzard’s voice was warm and reassuring. “Most of my brothers are too. Here, just fill this out, and one of our matchmakers will be with you shortly.”
He handed you a datapad, and you accepted it with a lightly trembling hand.
You sat down and started filling out the form.
The questions ranged from the easy, ‘Occupation? Last long term relationship? Last short term relationship?’ to the difficult, ‘What are you looking for in a match? What brought you to Right to Love? What does love mean to you?’
One standard hour later, you were fanning yourself after handing the datapad back to the Blizzard, who gave you another encouraging smile, as he directed you to wait.
“There are drinks and snacks on that back table there,” he added, and you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him.
Your eyes roamed the lobby, and you spotted a few other people here and there, lounging on the comfortable chairs. Some looked terrified, others looked relaxed. You counted yourself amongst the terrified, as you grabbed a bottle of meiloorun soda, and perched at the edge of a chair.
You sipped delicately at your soda, while you watched others exit looking elated or in a couple of cases utterly embarrassed. Your stomach twisted, and you eyed the front door. Had you made a mistake? You could still run for it. You rose from your seat, pretending to look at the art, as you scooted towards the exit.
You were a mere 10 steps away from freedom when a woman called your name, and invited you to follow her. She was short, but the way she held herself could fool anyone into believing she was as tall as any trooper. She had golden brown skin, a dyed lavender buzz cut, and a mischievous grin on her glossy lips.
“I’m Daria Trace, one of the matchmakers,” she said.
“How does one become a matchmaker?” You asked, curious.
“I majored in psychology and behavioral studies, and I ran a small matchmaking service for extra credits at university.”
“What’s your success rate?” You asked, matching her stride.
“Seventy percent of the couples I matched up at uni are still married,” she said with a grin, as she opened her office door, and gestured for you to enter and have a seat.
You took a deep breath and settled in at her desk. Instead of sitting behind the desk she sat next to you.
“Tell me who you are,” she said.
“Isn’t that what the profile’s for?” You asked with a raised brow.
“It gives me the basics, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know that people present themselves differently on paper. So tell me something real.”
You took a quick sip of your soda, hoping to ease the dryness in your mouth and throat.
“Um…I have my own business. I guess you could say I’m married to it. I like to keep busy,” You said, feeling the weight of her scrutinizing gaze.
“So why cheat on your job with a boyfriend?”
“I’m…my,” you feel that twinge in your chest again. “My heart wants more. Work is a sure thing. Always there for me. I just want more. I have a lot to offer, and just…”
“It’s ok, go ahead,” Daria presses, head inclined towards you.
Up close it feels like her dark brown eyes are looking through you. Like your mind was an open book, and she was flipping through the pages on the hunt for evidence that you were worthy of her time.
“I’m fine on my own, but I know I could be a great partner if I had the chance, if I took the chance.”
“And why haven’t you taken the chance?”
“I could never find someone supportive, who understood my need to create and find my own way. They wanted me to do well, just not as well as them.”
Daria sat back, and observed you a moment. Her eyes roaming your face with an unreadable expression. She stood up, and moved to sit behind her desk, tapping away on her datapad.
She grilled you a little more, asking about pets, marriage, children, foods, colors, and even scents.
“I think I have just the guy for you,” she said finally, her smooth voice carrying just a hint of self-satisfaction.
“Really?” You couldn’t hide your surprise.
“Mmhmm! According to the schedule you provided, you’re free tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow?!”
“No time like the present. Are you ready?”
You could tell wasn’t just asking about tomorrow night.
“I am,” you responded, nodding.
“Perfect! He’ll meet you at Dex’s Diner at 1800 hours,” she said sending a confirmation to your device.
“Wow,” you said pulling it out of your bag and staring at the message. “What’s his name?”
“Thorn,” she said with a bright smile. “I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
“Thorn,” you said softly, enjoying the sound of his name.
“Have fun, ok?” Daria said. “Don’t hold back.”
“Alright. Thank you,” you said, as you left her office in a daze.
#clone matchmaking au#tcw matchmaking au#Coruscant Guard#Original Clone Characters#212th legion#non clone OC#submission#seven writes
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Who The Hell Are You?
Stenbrough
Well, this is my first fic on this app, (also available on wattpad) it is currently one in the morning and idek if anyone ships them ^ anymore and I dont really care if the whole stenbrough era or wtv is gone but here you go.
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𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮
Bill Denbrough rested at the edge of the familiar bed. The bed was stripped of its usual sky-blue sheets and soft pillows. He looked around the room at the familiar four walls and ceiling, having used to be covered in drawings and photos, but now bare and dry. He got up and sat at the desk. Whenever he came in the room, the dark oak desk would be overflowing with papers and pencils would be scattered everywhere, even after he would put them back in their proper place. He slid the desk drawer open, nothing. He didn't know what he was expecting. Bill heard a soft rustle and peered underneath the drawer. An old drawing was caught in the drawer. He pulled it out carefully.
The paper displayed four stick figures, drawn in crayon. Each figure was labeled with the person's name: Billy, Georgie, Mom, Dad. Bill remembered the drawing, he smiled a little, a rarity, considering everything. The day Georgie went missing changed everything. Bill lost everything, but he chose to act fine in front of his friends. Whenever they asked if he was okay, he'd respond with "I'm fine," or "Yeah I'm all guh-good," Bill wore a mask every single day until he could take it off, late, every night. When the only sound that filled the house was the soft whirring of the air conditioner and his small desktop fan, Bill could take of the mask and actually feel something. Some nights after Georgie's death, his body wouldn't let him cry, which hurt even more, like he was being stabbed in the chest. He got very tired of everything, he couldn't write anymore, or draw, or do anything. Every day was a cycle. Wake up. Lay in bed. He didn't want to eat much either. Blast music. Watch TV. Eat. Lay in bed. Blast music. Sleep.
Bill lost everything the day his brother died. His friends were there for him and he loved them infinitely, but he felt guilty if he dumped his trauma on them. The losers had their own problems, and he didn't want them worried about him. Y'know when you want people to understand what's going on with you, but you don't want them to worry about you. Bill hated that feeling but he shoved his emotions down anyways. He got up and walked around the small room. Everything was packed neatly into cardboard box. Bill had managed to grab a stuffed animal before it was shoved into a box. It was a blue dinosaur that Georgie had named Terry.
Bill had won Terry for Georgie at the Derry Fair.
"Billy! Can you pleeeeeeeeeeeeease get that for me, please," Georgie begged, jumping up and down and tugging on Bill's arm.
"O-okay Georgie," Bill said, laughing.
"Yay!"
The game was ring-toss and Bill tried it twice, failing both times. Richie and Eddie ran up to them. "Billiam, my man," Richie said.
"I'm bu-busy,"
"Busy losing?" Georgie and Richie said in sync. Georgie giggled while Richie ruffled his hair.
"Sh-shut up,"
"Here, I got an extra," Eddie said, handing Bill a quarter.
"Thanks, Eds,"
Bill played the game again and (surprisingly) he won. The man at the booth gave him the blue dinosaur and Bill handed it to Georgie.
"Yay! Thanks Billy!" Georgie said, hugging the dinosaur, and then hugging Bill's torso.
"Of course,"
Bill would never forget that day. He remembered everything from what outfit he was wearing to the number of quarters in his pocket. Regret. Regret filled his body, coursed through his veins, and stayed in his head.
It was all my fault.
I let him go play outside.
I killed him.
I killed my little brother.
A tear slipped from his eye.
Looking around at the room again. Everything packed away. In less than an hour, the room would be empty and then filled back up with someone else's things.
"Bill? What are you doing in Georgie's room? C'mon get out we have to donate his things,"
Bill looked up at his mother standing in the doorway. "Suh-sorry," he said as he walked past her, tears slipping from his eyes. When his mother and father finished bringing the boxes downstairs, they loaded them into the trunk. Bill watched from the top stair. His parents wanted everything that reminded them of Georgie gone. Bill didn't know what he wanted or how to handle, besides music and writing. Self-projecting. His mother had put him in therapy, sometimes that didn't help. The whole point of therapy is to talk about your feelings and problems, the one thing he couldn't do without feeling guilty or that he overshared.
Help me.
A/N: The rest of the story will be told in Bill's perspective. 9
#it 2017#it#reddie#eddie kaspbrak#losersclub#richie tozier#stanley uris#stenbrough#bill denbrough#fanfic#wattpad#writer
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i've seen this girl on tiktok lately who is japanese and she's spending time in america, idk if she's just visiting or has moved here or whatever, but she's just excitedly doing things that she doesn't do in japan, and its so cute
like i saw one where she's just giggling and waving at strangers and getting waves in response and like yeah! that's so adorable! and thats one of the things that i personally really like about american culture too! the random waves or smiles or even full on conversations with strangers thing. i have anxiety and am terrified about talking to people but even i love that stuff so much
my partner is a super friendly and approachable guy and there are times when he comes home from work and is like "so i was talking to this guy i met at the grocery store and he told me about his divorce and [other personal things you wouldn't typically speak to a stranger about]" and i find it so endearing and funny. like i know he's an easy guy to talk to but still
even antisocial me has had some random conversations with strangers and i just thought that was normal and that people were like that everywhere
one time i was in a dispensary and a guy started talking to me telling me he liked my shoes and then went on to have a conversation about how people got their drugs in the hood in NYC, like he was all "you just walk up to your plugs house and they slip it through the door and you just leave, ain't that wild? it's the same in this place but like, official" like yeah random man standing in line behind me at the drug store, that's super interesting and i'm glad you decided to give me this information!
farmers that pass me when i'm on my walks will pull up beside me and say hello and point out how fun it is that the neighborhood dogs will join me
there was a guy that worked at the walmart where i lived in idaho and every time i'd go shopping he would start talking about his life to me like "my wife just had a baby and i love her so much, i can't wait to go home and play with her" or "my wife and i went to a metal concert and it was wild, got so drunk, had a blast" like YES tell me MORE!!!
my sister and i were driving around the city one night and we saw a guy who i'm pretty sure was doing some graffiti behind this building and my sister just hung out the window of her car and was like "hey what are you doing?" and he told her he got hired to paint a mural on the building and she was like "sick, whatcha gonna draw? how much did they pay you? you do it at night?" and they had a full fuckin convo and then when we were driving away my sister was like "he's totally lying lol"
if you got tattoos showing, people are gonna ask about them, wonder at their meaning, ask if they hurt, tell you their own plans for tattoos or show you the ones they got
the chatty cashiers are gonna ask about my plans for holidays and tell me theirs and also what they bought their grandson and everyone EVERYONE is gonna talk about the weather and it's always the same conversation but it's always so friendly and ends with "well, have a nice rest of your day!" and i dunno man i think it's cute
i have a LOT to complain about when it comes to america, like i genuinely believe it's hell on earth sometimes, but there are times when i see a video of buskers on the street getting passersby to dance and sing along with them, or a crowd of young people stop to watch a stranger pull off a sick move on his skateboard and they all surround him with cheers and hugs, and i see ladies stop each other to compliment their outfits and shower each other in praise before continuing on their way with a big smile and i remember that there's so much good too man idk it just gets me. i really like these people🥲
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Since I doubt anyone else will, I guess it's time for me to talk predictions/hopes for Touken Ranbu set 2!! Cardfighters, come get your sword bois, and maybe we'll see Yoshiyuki or Yamanbagiri pull a Yoh and put some collab rep in the top spots!
So first off: Where do we go from here? Well according to the Touken Ranbu wiki, there are only SIX bois who did not put in an appearance in the first set and trial deck. That's not a lot of picks for new stuff- But WAIT!
As the original ride lines showed, each boy does have at least 1 or 2 upgraded forms (or alternate art) and I can basically guarantee THAT is where the bulk of the set is going to be.
So because they have already exhausted every other "version" each of these leads boys could have, (complete with using their awakened art for their OTs) I think its safe to say we won't be seeing any G4 versions. Unless they did their casual outfits which would be very silly.
But all the maindeck bois? That's open season! First off I'll say the obvious, YES of course we're going to get AT LEAST one new version of Mikazuki. It'd be stupid and weird if we didn't. A bet so obvious it's not even worth putting money on.
Same for YaYa, whom I personally belive the anime really helped push the popularity of along with Kashuu.
These bois are gonna need effect triggers to keep up. And like I said, upgraded versions are gonna be the way to go. I'd say it's 95% that we'll see Midare as the effect Front, Gotoko and Yagen as the two different heals, and it's a toss up between Hirano and Maeda for the Draw.
Next I'd love to see the pair from the Trial deck who were stuck being vanillas get new versions. Especially considering Nakigitsune's popularity, giving him a good effect for an upgraded form would be a great idea. Be nice if Imanotsurugi got to be something besides a TD PG too.
I don't personally care for him, but it doesn't seem to be Touken Ranbu without Hasabe, so I'm sure an upgraded card for him is in the works as well. Most likely be some kind of universal tech for all the ridelines.
As for what the Nation NEEDS, they need more Countercharge. I know Bushi is stingy with it with all Nations in Overdress, but Touken Ranbu be Counter Blasting more than any others it seems. So some good universal resource management all 5 lines could use would be quite welcome.
I think that, considering how important being at different damage thresholds is for the deck, they need some kind of Damage management outside of the ONE (1) healing unit they got. I know healing is probably out of the equation, but how about self-damagers like back in LB era?
Also maybe something that taps into that damage threshold mechanic other than the OT order and Mikazuki? It was all over the place with the G-era Sword Bois, but isn't QUITE as prevalent this time around.
Beyond that, I'm not gonna bother speculating too much. But you bet your ass I have a shortlist of bois I wanna see new cards of. (Midare tops the list of course but I already talked about him. <3)
What about YOU though? Any upgraded forms you would like to see? Any effects, mechanics, or tweaks you think the bois could use? At least, no matter what, we'll be sure to get plenty more pretty bois to look at. And that may be gift enough.
#touken ranbu#cardfight!! vanguard#cardfight!! vanguard overdress#sword bois#mikazuki munechika#midare toushirou#yagen toushirou#gokotai#CFV
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take a shot - dsmp!mcc fic
MCC FIC! MCC FIC! MCC FIC! To be clear, I outlined this weeks back, when teams were first announced, and I took very very little from the actual MCC itself when it came to actually writing this - all I have are the same teams, but it really exists in its own continuity outside of Real Life MCC (obviously, as it’s using the dsmp characters) and everything like that as a whole! Just to be clear :D)
The worldbuilding is also Absolutely Bullshitted start to finish, as well as any and all medical information. Rip. We’re here for a good time, not for a long or particularly accurate one - hope you guys enjoy regardless!! I had a LOT of fun writing this fic, dsmp!mcc aus my BELOVED
title obviously from win it all by derivakat
---
Michael loves MCC.
But it’s one thing to love the normal Championships and quite another when his team looks like it’s falling apart from the inside out - and as the games progress, it becomes more and more obvious that losing, this time, might not be an option.
tws: C!QUACKITY CRITICAL (sorry i promise i love him but he is NOT portrayed very nicely here, very dark portrayal of him), implied trauma, abuse, torture, panic attacks, manipulation, gaslighting, needles, hospitals, MCC-typical violence, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault themes
(16k words !! :D long boi)
Michael loves MCC.
Of course he does! It’s fucking MCC - like, who wouldn’t love it? MCC is how he met so many people, how he met Dream, that one time, the two of them teamed with Techno and Burren and winning it all - MCC is a goddamn blast and he’s thankful every time he gets the invite that he’s able to compete.
Still- it’s hard not to be a little more nervous, now.
Dream gave him an invite to his SMP right after they teamed, but it wasn’t until months later that Michael actually cashed it in. Entering the server, it became very obvious very quickly that the DreamSMP, as it’s known, isn’t quite the same as its shiny media appearance. The spawn was covered in blocks, creeper holes littering the ground. The people he passed were grey-faced, too stoic to be the same, smiling faces he remembers from only less than a year ago. The air stings of gunpowder and iron. Worst of all are The Crater, shoddily covered in glass that does nothing to hide the damage done, rending the server in two straight down to bedrock, and the Prison, looming on the horizon. Absent-mindedly, Michael rubs at his left shoulder, remembering the Warden setting the prongs of his trident against the skin in warning, just hard enough to barely draw blood. Yeah, that place is bad news.
The fact of the matter is the server is a mess. And like, okay, whatever, Michael gets it. Everyone has their issues - it’s just the DreamSMP seems to have more than most. Despite his original worries, it’s honestly not been as bad as he originally feared upon logging in; yeah, Bad and Puffy and Foolish and the rest of them are a little more trigger-happy than he might’ve expected (and he’s not going to say that Bad crying over turtles wasn’t a little startling when he first joined, but honestly he thinks Bad is just Like That.) There’s way more death than he’s really comfortable with, and Puffy keeps mentioning Bad murdering her son (Foolish? He thinks? The guy is also a literal God but like, families are weird, who’s he to judge) in a way that’s way too casual to come from anyone entirely well-adjusted, but overall his experience has been alright.
Still, he gets the feeling that nobody exactly wants the outside world to know about the issues with the place. It’s not an issue for him usually, not when his sleeping schedule is the exact opposite of most of the people he knows and he spends most of his time screwing around on the server, anyway (usually harassing the Warden until the asscrack of dawn if he’s being honest) but with MCC, with everyone watching - he’s starting to get why everyone from the SMP was so damn tense all the time, now.
Anyway- he loves MCC, he really does. But even that doesn’t stop him from wincing when he sees his team card, the names Dream and Quackity and Sapnap written in Scott’s looping handwriting. He’s not seen Sapnap at all since joining the server, has only heard a little about his place (something Kingdom, not that he was paying attention) from Foolish, and has no idea what the man has been up to. Quackity is his own unique can of worms; Michael doesn’t know exactly what’s up with him and his country, but everything he’s heard so far has sounded like nothing but bad news, casinos and schemes and a trail of wreckage following wherever he goes. And Dream-
Michael looks out his window, chewing on his lip, looking directly in the direction where he knows the prison stands, impenetrable, intimidating. Where Dream’s cell is, in line with his house, where he’s been hidden for months without a trace. Where the Warden had confronted him that one night, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, blood splattered on his boots.
There’s no real ignoring an MCC invite - not without good reason, not without the admins picking up on something being up. There’s not really a choice, here, but for Michael to duck his head down and pretend everything’s fine just like everyone else from the SMP. He directs one last glance at the prison before walking away, setting the invite on his counter. If he’s lucky, everything will turn out fine.
(He ignores the part of him that asks what’s going to happen if they’re not. No point in worrying about what hasn’t happened yet - right?)
---
Weeks pass, the tournament creeping closer, and Michael gets no alerts from his teammates on his comm. No one comes to his house to check in, say hi, not even a ‘hey, we’re kinda competing in a massive tournament in like, seven days, you ready?’ Hell, he even starts checking his goddamn mailbox for a letter or something only to come up empty-handed every time. Never mind performing well - it’ll be a miracle if their team manages to arrive at the tournament at all.
It isn’t until the day before MCC, the sun high in the sky at what must be near noon, when he finally gets a message on his comm. Michael fishes it out with a frustrated huff, seeing Quackity’s name pop up first when he manages to turn on the screen.
Quackity whispers to you: you down for some practice?
It takes a couple seconds for him to blink away his shock - out of everyone he expected to arrange practice for their team, Quackity was definitely not at the top of the list. He half-thought they would have to drag him to the tournament kicking and screaming; from what he’s heard, he’s been nothing if not devoted to his country. Shaking his head, he goes to reply; practice is practice, and their team really needs it.
You whisper to Quackity: sure. practice server?
Quackity whispers to you: yes
Pulling up his server list, Michael scrolls for the practice server, finding it and then letting the server transfer do the rest. A few nausea-inducing seconds later, he’s at the practice server spawn, standing in the middle of a neatly paved road surrounded by colorful arenas and signs.
“Michael!”
He turns; there, by the Battle Box arenas, Quackity is waving at him, already dressed in a red varsity jacket and a pair of shorts, the jacket bearing a front pocket embroidered with a rabbit and a large R stitched onto the back. He reaches behind him for a red bag, throws it his way for Michael to catch mid-air.
“Got these outfits for us last minute - hope it’s alright with you,” Quackity smiles, and Michael tries to prevent his eyes from clinging to the scar spanning the entire left side of his face. “Anyway- how are you, man? I feel like we haven’t seen each other at all on the server. How’s it been?”
“I’m good- it’s been good.” Michael opens the drawstring bag, cataloguing the contents - there’s a jacket, just like Quackity’s, a pair of shorts and sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a headband, all in varying shades of red and white. “Nice outfit- thank you. Is anyone else around?”
Quackity waves a hand behind him. “Yeah- Dream’s here. Should be coming out of the arena soon, actually.” Michael looks over behind his shoulder to where he’s pointing - there, walking down the stairs, is another figure wearing all red that must be Dream. “There he is- hey Dream! Michael’s here!”
Dream hurries down the stairs; unlike Quackity, he is wearing the sweatpants along with the same jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair is a lot longer than Michael remembers, pulled back behind his head in a ponytail, mask, as usual, fastened over his face. He settles behind Quackity, giving Michael a small wave; his hands are covered by a pair of fingerless gloves.
“Hey, Dream!” Michael grins; it’s been such a long time since he’s seen his old teammate, and despite the circumstances and everything that’s apparently happened since then, it’s still pretty damn nice to see him. “How’ve you been?”
Dream seems to freeze for a moment, before shaking his head. “Good,” he says, quiet, sounding almost breathless. Michael’s eyes go to the slivers of skin that show on either side of his face, to the slight shake to his hands.
“You alright? You look a little pale,” Michael asks, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way Dream stills at the words, muscles tensing, gaze averting to the side even with the mask - doesn’t miss how Quackity steps forward, looking Michael in the eye as he tosses a casual arm around Dream’s shoulder, smiling brightly.
“Don’t worry. This idiot has just been practicing a bit too much before you got here,” Quackity gestures with a flippant twist of his wrist, “You know how he gets. Right, Dream?”
“Um- yeah. Ha,” Dream responds just a little too late to be strictly normal, shoulders tight and nearly pulled to his ears under Quackity’s arm. “Practice- I’m a little out of shape.”
“You sure?” Dream’s breathing hitches and Quackity steps forward, just a little bit, eyes still fixed firmly on Michael’s own even as he shifts his gaze to try and look at Dream. “We can take a break if you need, Dream-”
“I’m fine!” Dream smiles with a little stuttered breath that turns into a small laugh, “It’s- uh. It’s fine. Thanks Michael, but we can practice. Not much time left to waste, you know?”
“You sure, Dream?” Quackity says, suddenly, voice soft and sincere. “I guess it has been a while since you’ve been able to practice- you sure you don’t need a break?”
Dream shakes his head firmly. “No- it’s fine. Really- where’s Sapnap? He should be coming soon, right?”
“If you say so, pal,” Quackity replies, doubt coloring his tone as he pulls out his communicator. “I told Sapnap to come, he replied a couple minutes back; he should be here soon, I think. You want to go meet him at spawn?”
Dream nods, and they begin to set out towards the center of the server, Quackity and Dream quickly taking the lead as Michael falls back. After a minute, Quackity falls into casual conversation, rambling about something as Dream nods, Michael trailing behind the two of them and adding his own input as he sees fit. Sapnap arrives soon after, and the noise level picks up even more after that, Sapnap and Quackity falling into an easy rhythm of banter and quips as they set out to practice Battle Box and Parkour Tag, carefully working their way through the different games under Dream’s tutelage and advice.
And here’s the thing- Michael isn’t stupid. Yeah, he’d hardly consider himself a top tier MCC player, and he’ll be the first to say that he’s nowhere near qualified to deal with the literal laundry list of issues that affect every member of the SMP, but even so, he’s not clueless. He’s good at looking at multiple sides of a situation, doesn’t easily give into intimidation or manipulation, and he’s observant as all hell. So when Quackity wraps his hand around Dream’s wrist, fingers wrapping all the way around until his knuckles pale, when Dream winces, muscles in his arm locking before letting it go limp, not protesting when Quackity drags him forward except in the tiny, tight expressions that flit across his face every few moments, tight and gasping and shaky at the corners - Michael notices.
“See you at the tourney, yeah?” Quackity calls to him after practice with a wink before clapping Dream on the back, Michael watching silently as the muscles of Dream’s neck pull tight, head ducking to his chest. “Good job, big guy,” he says, laughing. “Keep this up for tomorrow and we’ll be good.”
“Mmhm,” Dream mutters after a brief second, “We’re- we’re gonna win.”
“Betting on it, pal,” Quackity replies, voice light in a way that completely fails to explain Dream’s full-body flinch. “MCC, huh? Can’t fucking wait.”
“See you tomorrow, Quackity,” Michael says as he presses DreamSMP on his server list, pretending that a chill doesn’t crawl down his spine at the smile that the other man throws his way in return.
---
There’s no real easy answer.
Michael comes to that conclusion at some point in the middle of the night, restless and pumped on way too much adrenaline to go to sleep. He can’t outright antagonize Quackity, can’t let him know he knows something’s up - not when Quackity had already spent the majority of practice keeping one dark, narrowed eye on him at all times, lips pursed in a slight frown whenever he thought Michael wasn’t looking. He’s not stupid; whatever’s happening between Dream and Quackity is secret, and kept that way for a reason. His mind goes back to the brief flashes of anxiety that had moved over Dream’s face before he could react fast enough to school them back into a carefully neutral position; whatever it is, he doubts it bodes well for Dream in the slightest.
Unfortunately, his hands are pretty damn tied. He knows public opinion on the masked man in the server is overwhelmingly negative, but has no damn idea how far it extends. How many people are in on whatever’s happening in that damn prison? How many people know what would make Dream, bold and bright and recklessly confident in all of Michael’s (rather limited) memories, into someone so quiet, unimposing, nervous? His head spins with the possibilities, with the ever-present reminder to not make a fuss, let the tournament pass on, to never, ever let anyone find out what’s going on within the SMP. Should he do anything at all?
Too soon, it’s morning, and he drags himself out of bed with a groan to glare at the sun streaming through his window. Somewhere, Quackity and Dream and Sapnap are also waking up, are preparing to compete in one of the biggest damn tournaments to exist. Michael sighs, glancing over to where he’s set out his outfit, freshly pressed and waiting. Any other day, and he’d probably be fucking ecstatic. Here, he buries his head in his hands, muffling a frustrated groan against the palm of his hands.
He loves MCC, but he sure as hell doesn’t like whatever the hell is going on with the rest of his team.
Getting into the server goes smoothly enough. The outfit is comfortable and looks damn good, props to whoever made the thing, and the sight of the multicolored crowd successfully manages to tamp down some of his nerves. He busies himself with saying hi to all of the members waiting in the lobby, happy for the chance to talk to some people he hasn’t seen in ages, feels the night of anxieties wash away with every stupid joke told and burst of laughter drawn from his lungs.
They come back the moment Scott steps up in front of the lobby. “Teams, it’s time to head to your team rooms! The tournament will begin in fifteen minutes,” Scott says, expression sunny and bright, “we’re wishing you all luck for a great performance today! May the best team win!”
In a flurry of movement, they’re all whisked to their rooms for a final few minutes of preparation and morale-boosting, and Michael enters the glorified dressing room to Quackity, Dream, and Sapnap already standing there, seemingly in the middle of conversation.
“You ready to win?” Sapnap yells, and Quackity whoops, and Michael manages a small cheer of his own. They’re all visibly nervous; Quackity has scarcely stopped moving, pacing from one side of the room to the next; Sapnap is basically jumping in place where he stands. Dream stands at the very back of the room, looking tense; Michael directs a wave his way and gets a small one in return.
“Game plan, game plan,” Quackity mutters, “do we know what games we’re playing first? Dream?”
He nods at Dream, and Dream stands up straighter, mouth falling open.
“Oh- um,” he hesitates, a strand of hair flopping forwards as he tilts his head in thought. “We’ll want to save Parkour Tag and Battle Box towards the end- maybe something more high-risk at the beginning, but not first, just to boost morale,” his teeth catch on his bottom lip, “Maybe something like To Get To The Other Side? If they have that- or Build Mart, if we can get it out of the way.” He shakes his head. “If that’s alright- I mean-”
“Great,” Quackity cuts in smoothly. “Sapnap? Michael? Does that sound good to you?”
Sapnap flashes a thumbs up, and Michael nods. “Yeah, sounds great. Thanks, Dream.”
Dream’s head snaps towards him, mouth slightly open in shock. The sight of it makes Michael’s gut twist uncomfortably; there’s something about how surprised he is, at the nervous hesitancy with which he spoke that was nothing like what Michael remembers of his easy leadership in that MCC with Techno, that doesn’t sit right at all in his stomach. Even with his expression largely hidden, there’s no mistaking the clear, genuine surprise on his face at the idea of someone thanking him - Michael tries to tell himself that he’s reading too much into it as Quackity continues to speak.
“We’re going to win,” he grins, just a little too sharp at the edges, “so get out there and play like your lives depend on it, yeah?”
Sapnap cheers, and again, Michael and Dream follow. It’s not until he’s outside the door, within the clamor of screaming teams and people counting down with the timer that Michael realizes that Quackity was staring at Dream the entire time.
---
Michael curses, frustrated, when he’s knocked off a platform again, making sure to flip Krinios the bird before he falls into the Void entirely. When he makes it to the other side, Quackity and Dream are already deep in conversation - if you can call it that. Even from here, it looks worryingly one-sided.
“-were you thinking, falling off there-” Quackity’s hand is on Dream’s shoulder, Dream standing stock-still in front of him, “you better be taking this seriously, Dream.”
“Hey- sorry about that,” Michael calls with a wave, “I swear Krinios had it out for me. At least I made it across, right?”
Quackity turns, startled, and in the split-second that it takes for him to register Michael’s appearance, his expression smooths over into something friendlier, more inviting. “Michael!” He says, enthusiastic, and it’s like the anger that had filled his words just seconds before was never there at all. “Don’t- don’t worry about it, man. We all kinda dropped the ball on that one, right Dream?”
The words should be encouraging, just simple ribbing between teammates. Dream’s mask is still ducked down, facing the floor, shoulders slightly hunched in.
“Um- Sapnap did pretty good,” Dream says, quiet, “he got top ten, right?”
Michael looks over to where Sapnap is standing a little ways away, seemingly busy typing on his communicator. Quackity laughs, sharp and loud.
“True,” he punches Dream lightly on the upper arm, and Michael watches the way he freezes the second the fist makes contact with his jacket, “come on, man, you’re losing your touch. You really gonna let yourself get beat by Sapnap?” he shakes his head, still laughing as he pulls open his communicator. “Jesus- even I beat you in that last round. Watch your spot, Dream, I’m coming for you.”
“I mean,” Michael says when a second passes and it becomes clear Dream isn’t going to respond, “Dream was doing pretty well with the last two rounds, right? I thought I saw his name pretty far up there.”
Quackity takes a second before responding, again, staring at Michael oddly as he does. “That’s true,” he concedes, “hey- I was just making a joke, don’t worry. It’s all for fun, right Dream?”
His gaze goes to Dream, and automatically, Michael follows. Dream seems to startle under the attention, twitching Quackity’s direction in the awkward silence that results. Michael watches as the mask slants slightly to face Quackity, as Quackity looks back at him with an intense, unreadable expression, shoulders strangely tense. Whatever unsaid conversation that seems to pass between them is entirely lost on Michael as Dream finally responds with a sudden, almost strangled bark of laughter.
“Yeah- just jokes,” his fingers twist over one another, hands held close together in front of his body, “Though Qu- Q’s right, I- I should probably pick it up. We’re playing to win.”
A ding alerts them to the end of the round, and Michael steadies himself in preparation for the teleport to the next map. As he turns, he catches Quackity’s expression, once again, and the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he continues to look at Dream.
“Good luck,” he calls just before they enter the next round, and tries not to think too much about what he’s saying it for.
---
They manage pretty well for the rest of To Get To The Other Side, finishing with a second place overall that got cheers from Sapnap and even a slight smile from Dream. Hole in the Wall, on the other hand, has been a lot less successful - though Michael will be the first to say that it’s his fault. His practice in the last few months has been lackluster (at best) and it definitely showed in the arena.
He leans over the railing, watching Dream and Sapnap through the crowd of participants left that have yet to be knocked out by the giant walls of slime. Quackity’s standing next to him, having been similarly thrown off the platform early in the round, expression tight and lips set in a small frown, and looking at him for too long makes Michael uneasy so he looks down at the arena again. They’re in the last round, and they’re supposed to be making callouts anyway for their teammates still participating below.
Without thinking, once again, Michael looks over at Dream. Sue him, he knows the guy best and Dream has been acting odd all day, to put it lightly. Even ignoring the part of him that’s screaming that something’s wrong, that there’s something up that has everything to do with the beanie-wearing man standing besides him, it only takes a few minutes of observation to see that Dream is - for the lack of a better word - off. Michael watches as he vaults over another wall, only barely managing to bring himself to his feet in time on the other side. Dream’s movements - even to his untrained eye - have always been fluid, effortless. He jumped and vaulted and ran like gravity didn’t exist, like every physics-bending maneuver he made was as easy as breathing. Michael remembers watching him sprint over the parkour course before, time completely unmatched as he appraised each obstacle and basically flew his way through, sounding hardly even winded when he whooped loudly in victory from the top of the salmon ladder. In total contrast, Dream jerks away from the coming wall again, movements sloppy and harsh as he scrambles to the other side of the disc-shaped arena. He’s still fast, and still making jumps, but everything is strangely angled where it had once been fluid, stopping and starting suddenly, moving in bursts of speed and then skidding to sudden stops.
“WEST!” Quackity shouts, and Michael watches as Dream’s head turns jerkily at the noise before he dives out of the way of the incoming wall and manages, barely, to twist around the side. Michael winces at the tumble he takes on the opposite side, clutching his chest slightly as he stands back up again.
“North!” Michael calls, because he should probably actually help his teammates, huh, and Dream manages to move around this one better, jumping through a hole in the wall and tucking and rolling as he lands. “Nice jump- East!”
It’s an easy wall, thankfully, and both Sapnap and Dream visibly take a breath as they stand in place for the wall to pass over them. As it passes, a droning buzz comes from the speakers, and the walls below them speed up.
“South-to your right!” Michael shouts as they turn, eyes turning between all of the false walls before finally focusing on the right one, his shout echoed by a similar one from Quackity. At each one of the calls from the man besides him, Dream seems to tighten further, movements increasingly erratic as he dodges and weaves around the walls. There’s still a lot of people left - Michael follows Dream through the crowd with a frown, watching as he and Sapnap jump the next wall, Dream’s foot nearly catching on the top edge.
“West-” Dream flinches, jumping over the two-high wall at the last possible second, landing completely off-balance on the other side and falling to the ground. He scrambles to his feet, but there’s already a wall at the west edge of the platform - his head turns, still searching for the wall - Quackity yells.
“LEFT!”
Something in Dream’s movements seem to shift, even in the distance - Michael watches as he immediately, almost robotically, steps to the left at Quackity’s voice, not even jumping, not turning his head to take in his surroundings, just moving instinctually at the words, and slams into the coming wall hard enough to get flung into the middle hole in the platform. Quackity curses, fist crashing into the railing as Dream falls and the chat message shows on their communicators, and a second later he’s materialized beside them, face oddly slack and mask focused somewhere faraway.
“Shit,” Dream mutters when he seems to come back into himself, shaking his head and then turning to the two of them, still by the railing, “Dammit. Sorry, I-“
“Don’t worry about it,” Michael cuts in before Quackity can speak. “You did good.”
“I-” Dream catches Quackity’s gaze, then pushes his head away, mask facing the ground. Something about it and his raised shoulders and the dark, angry glare that Quackity directs over the railing when Michael looks back makes him shift in place, uneasy. “Could’ve done better, ha. Sorry.”
The three of them watch, silent, as Sapnap continues to compete. He manages to get pretty damn far, making it to the top three, but getting knocked off-balance by a wall and off the platform just before the timer sounds. Michael cringes back at the sound of it over the speakers, watches the other contestants settle into place, panting, in victory.
“Great job, Sapnap,” Michael shouts when he materializes in front of them, and the other two are quick to echo his sentiments. If they sound a little duller than they should be, if Quackity’s jaw seems clenched and Dream’s all coiled up like a spring, far too tense, it’s from placing lower than they wanted and slipping in the rankings, not anything else.
Keep your head down, Michael reminds himself, and everything’s gonna be fine. And if the words ring more and more hollow with every repetition, well, that’s for him to ignore and for everyone else to never, ever find out.
---
Buildmart is chosen next, which they all groan at, but at least it’s going to be out early and not left to ruin all of their scores later. Michael takes his place at his build, one third from the left side - it’s some abomination of colored glass and white concrete meant, if he is to guess, to emulate a stained glass window. He’s between Dream and Sapnap, the former positioned in front of a flower-dotted grass field with a picnic table, the latter staring down a miniature car with black concrete for tires and stone buttons for detailing. He breathes a steady breath as they await the countdown, already planning for his trip to the Colors section to grab materials for his build and the others’- Buildmart isn’t his strongest game, but it’s not his worst either, and he’s damn well going to try his best.
He skids into the portal with an armful of colored concrete and glass, spilling half of its contents inside a chest before running to his build. He pulls himself to the crafting bench to craft - he squints at his build - he needs four red glass panes and 3 yellow, right. As he brings the panes to his inventory and begins laying out the frame of the build in concrete, he looks over to Dream, who is noticeably struggling with placing the flowers in his build and getting the placements to match that of the original. He knocks away a white tulip with a muffled curse, sounding frantic as he looks back to the original, and places it again to no avail.
It seems that his struggle hasn’t only caught Michael’s attention, as the statue to the leftmost side of the room explodes in gold coins and confetti - Quackity has finished his build and is now looking at Dream with narrowed eyes. Dream places the flower again, and the build refuses to respond. Quackity’s gaze narrows further, and he opens his mouth-
“Hey Quackity!” Michael starts speaking before he’s even noticed that he’s opened his mouth, fumbling as he regains awareness of what he’s doing and tries to find a direction for his sentence to go, “do you have any concrete?”
Quackity looks at him like he’s grown a second head, which is fair, considering there’s a block of white concrete pretty obviously visible in his hand. “Um- no? Weren’t you supposed to go to Colors?”
Dream finally manages to place the tulip where it belongs, and the build between them disappears in another explosion of gold glitter. Michael laughs awkwardly.
“Sorry- haha. I got a little mixed up.” He places the last piece of white concrete, watching as his own build disappears. A little wooden cottage takes its place, made of what appears to be just oak wood and cobblestone. “Are you going to get wood? Or should I?”
“I- You get wood,” Quackity shakes his head, visibly frustrated, “And I’ll get stone. We have to hurry, we’re falling behind.”
After that, Michael finds it a little too easy - or maybe not easy, but at least tolerable, to interrupt when Quackity looks a little like he’s about to fall on the side of being angry versus just annoyed, stepping between his angry glares at Dream with a forced smile and an incessant string of annoying questions-
“Hey Quackity, do you have any spare iron?”
“Hey Quackity, I think you placed that a little too far back.”
“Hey Quackity, can you take a look to see what I placed wrong?”
It’s not perfect. It’s hardly even functional; Michael knows that Quackity has begun with the habit of directing death glares at his back whenever he thinks he’s not looking, his responses to Michael’s questions becoming more and more clipped, often paired with irritated grumbles and sighs. Sapnap, when Michael looks at him, seems largely engrossed with his own builds, but he’s also begun looking over at the two of them with a vaguely dissatisfied expression, and Dream only seems to be getting more jumpy with every frustrated growl out of Quackity’s mouth. Even Michael’s forced levity and falsely ignorant questions can’t do much against Quackity’s anger when they walk out of Buildmart dead last for the minigame, dropping their team all the way down to seventh in the overall rankings, and the tension within the team as they walk out - Quackity nearly stomping, Dream following with his hands wringing around each other and head ducked fearfully - is almost enough to make Michael scream. He looks at the scoreboard with a worried expression as he enters the Decision Dome, trying to quell the sinking feeling in his gut.
There’s still five more games to go, and he’s not sure how long they can last before something snaps.
---
Battle Box is chosen next, and they react to the game with quiet cheers and slightly grim faces. Michael’s been in enough MCCs to know that this game, of any, is crucial - after their lacking performances in the last two games, a good showing at Battle Box will be crucial to pull them back into the competition and raise morale. With Sapnap and Dream, if this were any normal game, they should be able to sweep through a good amount of the competition without much effort. As it is, though, Michael looks at the two more combat-oriented members of his team with a worried expression, the two barely even able to meet each other’s eyes. Their interactions so far have been less than promising- if they can’t hold it together for this round, well.
Michael shakes his head. They’ll do fine. They have to.
Even so, the first round only seems to confirm his concerns - they get woolrushed almost immediately, and in Dream and Sapnap’s stumbling to get to mid, nearly crashing into each other and focusing their efforts on the same player by accident, the other team manages to fill out the wool, sending them back to the spawn box even more frustrated than before.
“Amazing teamwork, guys,” Quackity snarks immediately, and Michael rolls his eyes.
“Like you did that much.”
Sapnap is still staring at Dream oddly, Dream turning his head to avoid his gaze. The two of them look largely oblivious to Quackity and his whole deal, even as Quackity whirls around to give him the stink eye.
“You didn’t do anything either, if I remember correctly,” Quackity mutters, and Michael shrugs.
“Fair.”
A ding alerts them to the round’s end, and they resign themselves to preparing for the next round. Michael picks the extra arrows from the wall, knowing that no one else will want the kit, and watches as Dream anxiously runs his hands over the crossbow.
The next round goes better, barely; Michael and Quackity end up knocked out pretty early, but Dream and Sapnap manage to kill the rest of the team soon after. He watches from the box as they fill in the wool, Dream looking awfully tense as he shears away the white wool for Sapnap to fill it with red. Quackity watches them both with a tight expression, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
Michael turns away, ignoring him, going back to watching Dream and Sapnap still standing within the arena. Both of them look awkward, oddly out of step with each other - Michael’s not watched them fight much, but he knows that they have a reputation as a pair, was there for the Sky Battle round where they completely wiped through the competition. Even here, Sapnap moves forward and Dream flinches back - there’s something heavy and tense between them, lingering in the few words they’ve spoken to each other, if they’ve even spoken to each other at all, one always rushing forward too fast or following just a little too slow. They’re still brilliant fighters, almost unrivaled in hand-to-hand combat and with swords, but the faltering communication is sure to hurt them more in the future.
His worries come true just three rounds later, the two in between being narrow wins for their team, each a little more shaky than would be comfortable. Michael has found himself easing off the worst of his anxiety in verbally sparring with Quackity, jabbing at the other with offhand remarks and little needling jokes to keep his attention off the other two, especially as his glare has become more pronounced and his words more angry. Even so, nothing he does or can do will fix the odd tension between Dream and Sapnap, whose communication remains as stilted and awkward as ever.
They’re facing a stronger team, PVP wise, with Punz and Seapeekay, and Michael ends up falling in a bow duel against Jack. He watches as the Captain falls to a potion by Sapnap, then as Jack is taken out by a crossbow bolt courtesy of Dream, just before Quackity falls to a well-timed bow shot from the opposing team.
That leaves the strongest PVPers to battle it out, and Dream and Sapnap manage to team up and kill CPK - but not without taking a nasty damage potion to the face that must leave the two of them low. Michael watches Punz, booking it to mid with a crossbow, anxiously - both of them would be a oneshot with the thing, and on the condition that he takes no damage before fighting with either of them outright, he’s probably got enough health to hold out a few hits.
Sapnap pulls out a health potion, and Michael grins - that’ll be good for the two of them, and should secure them the win - only for him to gesture roughly with his sword and for Dream to stagger backwards, panic flashing over his face. He only seems to grow more fearful at the sound of glass shattering on the ground, falling backwards further - far enough to be largely out of range of health pot - and in their shock, Punz manages to catch both of them off guard and nail Sapnap with a crossbow bolt that downs him for the round before similarly dispatching Dream in two hits of his sword.
Sapnap explodes upon respawn in the box - “What was that? I had a health pot!”
“I-” Dream fumbles, face still oddly pale, “Sorry I didn’t- I- I-”
“We had that round!” Sapnap’s arms flail forward as he gestures angrily, Dream freezing further as one hand skims past his shoulder. “I can’t believe- I had a health pot! Punz was on, like, half! We could’ve killed him!”
“Easy, easy,” Quackity moves forward, putting a hand on both of their shoulders - Sapnap seems to relax immediately, while Dream, if anything, only looks more tense. “It’s time for the next round - we’ll talk about this later, alright?”
Dream nods, movements overly tense, and Quackity flashes a toothy smile his way as Sapnap moves back, still mumbling to himself. He and Quackity move to talk in the back corner, words quiet enough that Michael cannot make them out, and something sick and cold slithers over his spine. Sapnap and Quackity are fiancés, aren’t they?
Michael looks over at Dream, mask still covering his face as he looks away through the glass to the arena, shoulders still tight as Michael’s pretty sure they’ve been for as long as he’s seen him since he came onto the server. He remembers the panic that make itself obvious on his face every time Quackity came up to him, even as covered as it is, the similar- if not the same- fear that had painted his face when he respawned fresh off of the Battle Box round after Sapnap’s sword had passed a little too close to his body.
Quackity and Dream- he’s sure, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, that there’s something going on there, dark and dreadful and poisonous. Who’s to say that Sapnap isn’t involved, as well?
---
They finish Battle Box decently well, but not as well as they’d hoped, pulling them up to fifth place with a decently large gap between them and fourth. Quackity and Dream disappear immediately as the Audience Votes begin coming in, leaving Sapnap and Michael to stand awkwardly in the lobby to wait for the rest of their team to come back. Michael watches the crowd for a glimpse of Quackity and Dream, comes up empty. A sigh fizzles through his teeth as he looks up into the sky, the endless blue doing little to ease his nerves - he’s worried, even if he doesn’t want to think about it, for his teammates. For Dream.
It doesn’t take a genius to see that the man is scared of Quackity, that there’s an odd sort of history there that Michael conveniently has no information about. Whatever it is, it’s left Dream unsure and uncharacteristically nervous, left the entire team floundering without proper leadership to tie them all together. Really, a part of him knows that the Championships should be the least of his concerns - if he were braver, or a little better at combat, or a little less inclined to just let things pass as they always have, then he’d be raising a fuss. Getting in the way, talking to Dream, doing something other than making backhanded compliments to Quackity that he’s sure have been doing little more than annoy the man further.
“Michael?” Sapnap comes within his line of sight, lips pressed together in a carefully put-together expression that Michael is sure will collapse the moment they’re away from others’ prying eyes, “Can we speak for a moment?”
Michael forces another easy smile to his face as he turns towards his teammate, feels a little disgusted at the amount of them he’s had to use to simply function with the rest of his team. “Sure! Where to?”
They walk at a brisk pace to the team room, Sapnap’s eyes focused forwards the entire time, not speaking. If he’s being honest, it’s a little awkward, but the lighthearted comment on his tongue to break the silence dies out the minute Sapnap closes the door and looks back at him with fierce, focused eyes boring into him.
“What’s your deal?” He hisses immediately, words pitched low even though he doesn’t really have to - there’s no one nearby, and the team rooms are decently soundproofed. Michael feels his hackles rising as Sapnap’s arms cross in front of him, eyes still focused on his own as he talks. “I’m not going to lie- I don’t know you that well, even though you’re on the SMP now, but can you quit it with Quackity already?”
“Quit what?” Michael snarks - sue him - matching Sapnap’s tone with irritation of his own.
“Don’t- you’ve been antagonizing Quackity all day,” Sapnap’s hand runs through his hair, messing up his hair and tangling it into knots, “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of in the middle of a competition here? So it’d be really nice if you could save the fighting for until after we’re done?”
“Says you?” Michael can’t help the retort this time, huffing irately at the offended expression that flashes over the other’s face, “I don’t really know if you’ve noticed, but your teamwork has been a little less than stellar, today. Pot calling the kettle black, much?”
“What-” Sapnap looks confused, even through his anger, gesturing more and more wildly. “What do you even mean?”
“Oh, so are we just ignoring what just happened in Battle Box then?”
Sapnap’s eyes flash as he closes into himself again, hands gripping at his upper arms as he crosses his arms in front of his chest once again. “That- that’s different. That’s because of Dream.”
“Oh, just keep blaming it on the other guy, why don’t you?”
“No-” Sapnap shakes his head furiously. “You haven’t been on here for nearly as long, you don’t get it, Michael. Dream- he’s-,” Sapnap flails, and Michael groans at the familiar words.
“Dream’s what? I was on the team with the guy before, you know. It’s kind of the reason why he invited me in the first place?” He raises an eyebrow. “We worked together perfectly well then - am I supposed to believe that his self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ can’t do the same?”
“You don’t understand,” Sapnap repeats, expression hard and oddly far away, “Dream- he’s changed- he’s done so many terrible things. I don’t know what he’s said to convince you, but he’s bad news, man. He’s hurt- so many people.”
“Oh- you want to talk about hurting people?”
Michael isn’t quite sure what comes over him - only really realizes a white-hot flash of rage lancing through his chest, a sleepless night and half a competition’s worth of anxiety and frustration and build up combining into a sizzling spike of fury that briefly tinges his vision red.
“How about the way Dream looks like he’s about to keel over whenever anyone gets close to him? How about how he flinches back at literally every loud noise and fast movement? How about how Quackity’s been making these stupid, angry comments at him for the entire competition that make him freeze for a minute each time? Or how about when you were in Battle Box and Dream backed away from your sword like he thought you were gonna drive it through his chest?” Michael barely feels himself stepping forward with each word, jabbing his index finger into the other’s chest. “You want to talk about hurting people? How about you go talk to that fiancé of yours and then come back to talk?”
A loud, droning buzz comes over the speakers, alerting them of the end of the break. Michael steps back, face flushed in embarrassment, before the world whirls away and they’re teleported back into the Decision Dome.
He adamantly refuses to meet Sapnap’s eyes as Quackity and Dream materialize in the sector with them, Quackity’s hand clamped around Dream’s upper arm as the other man keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, looking even more panicked and frozen than before the break.
“You ready to win?” Quackity laughs, and Michael watches as his hand tightens around the sleeve of Dream’s jacket, knuckles paling from the strain.
“Yeah,” Michael tries to cheer, and it feels like ash on his tongue. “Let’s do this.”
---
Survival Games ends up being picked next - Quackity and Sapnap quickly pull up to the front of the group, close enough to be within eyesight but too far to really pick up their conversation. Michael keeps an eye out for the reddish glow of their bodies as they scout the surrounding areas for chest, staying back with Dream as they look at the other side of the road. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a smug sort of satisfaction of Sapnap seemingly confronting Quackity about whatever the hell has been going on, as awkward as his whole outburst had been. As it is, some time with Dream is nice without Quackity watching over his shoulder like a hawk - he directs a small, genuine smile at the man by his side that Dream seems to do a double take at before shyly returning it with one of his own.
“There- I think I see a chest,” Michael points under a lamppost, running to the wooden box and flicking the lid upwards. He pulls out a chain chestplate that he promptly puts on himself, then throws over the iron boots to his teammate as well as a small stone axe that he’s sure Dream will make better use of. “We should probably catch up to the others - don’t want to be caught off guard while separated.”
Dream nods, and the two of them pick up the pace before finding another chest that Dream rummages through, this time, finding an iron sword that Michael takes for himself and a cake.
“You’ve been doing really well so far,” Michael says after a few minutes of quiet, words becoming more firm when Dream looks up at him with a surprised expression. “Seriously- you’ve been doing great, man.”
“Thanks,” Dream smiles, words quiet and terribly sincere, and the sinking pit in Michael’s gut returns at the tone. “Not as good as I should, though. I’ve been underperforming a lot,” he laughs a little at the words, but even to Michael’s ears it rings hollow. “It’s not over yet, though.”
“No it’s not,” Michael concedes, rearranging his inventory as they run. “But it’s good enough, man, really - just look at my rankings.”
Dream huffs. “You’ve been doing good, Michael.”
“And you’ve been doing a hell of a lot better than me,” Michael tips his head in his direction. “Give yourself some more credit, man. You’ve been playing well.”
Dream smiles again, but even now the corners of his mouth seem tight, tense. “I need to play better, though, if we want to win,” he says, matter-of-fact, analytical to a damn fault. Michael rolls his eyes, but nods to concede the point.
“Sure, but that goes for all of us, Dream,” he shakes his head. “And it’s okay if we don’t win, you know?”
“No.”
Michael turns, frowning. Dream’s tone has become oddly flat, eyes dead as he continues to stare at the pavement under their feet. He seems to be chewing on his lip anxiously, startled out of his own thoughts when he looks up to meet Michael’s gaze. “I mean- I don’t know. I really have- want to win.”
There’s something so carefully worded about the admission, quiet and scraped open and raw in the slow sincerity of the words. Michael wants to poke at it, wants to understand what’s left him so unsure of every step, what determination lies behind the words that has left desperation clinging to every shallow breath he draws. A crack of thunder on the horizon, heralding a player’s death, reminds him that now is not the time.
Keep your head down.
“Alright,” he smiles thinly, hoping that the fracturing, yawning pit of emptiness in his chest isn’t obvious in the words. “Then we’re going to win.”
---
Michael skids to a stop at the finish line, feeling the elytra deequip as he’s thrown into spectator mode. He runs his hands through his wind-tousled hair, feeling it strain against his fingers as he roughly finger-combs it back into place. Dream and Sapnap are off to the side, standing next to each other but seemingly not speaking - Michael smiles as he floats over, still shaking the adrenaline off from the race.
“Hey,” the two look up, smile in recognition, and Dream waves; there’s a small smile on his face, strained but present. “You both did really good!”
“Thanks, Michael,” Dream laughs, earnest, “I did decent, I guess- haha. Top ten at least.”
Sapnap whoops. “We’re popping off!” Michael cheers in agreement, and their efforts manage to pull Dream’s smile a little wider as he ducks his head to look away again.
“Thanks, guys.”
They watch as Quackity flies through the finish line, appearing in front of them and shaking his arms out as he gets his bearings.
“Geez- that trident,” he shakes his head, looks up. “Hey, there you guys are. How’d we do?”
“Dream got seventh,” Sapnap scrolls through his comm, looking through the rows of contestants and their times as they come in, interspersed by the occasional chat message, “And I got 10th. Michael got- 28th, I think? And you got 32nd.”
“Hmm,” Quackity hums, “What do you think, Dream? Is that good enough to pull us to Dodgebolt?”
Once again, Michael watches as Dream stiffens under the scrutiny, head ducking down and looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Um- I don’t know,” Dream mumbles, “I messed up a trident- fell into the void once, probably could’ve done better otherwise-” his voice trails off, tensing further as Quackity takes his usual spot by his side, jabbing an elbow none-too-lightly into his ribs.
“But you didn’t, though,” Quackity says, tone flippant, “so what do you think? With those placements- is it going to be enough?”
“Hey, we did great, man,” Michael glares at him, more forward than he’d usually be - but all he can see is the shoulder that he has pressed against Dream’s arm, the way Dream’s stood stock still since the moment he made contact, “Lay off of Dream, would you? He did great.”
“Yeah, Q,” Michael’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Sapnap chimes in from the side, rising further when Sapnap moves forward to link his arm with Quackity’s own and half-drag him away from Dream. “Chill out, man, we popped off. We’re gonna fucking win this, ok?”
Quackity’s lips press together; he’s still smiling, but there’s no mistaking the seething darkness that lingers in his narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, gaze still trained on the pale off-white disk of Dream’s mask. Still, with the rest of the team against him, he’s in a losing fight and he knows it; Michael watches as he visibly backs down, rolling his shoulders back as he lets Sapnap pull him further back.
“We’re going to fucking win this,” he repeats, and Michael wonders how he manages to make the words sound so much like a threat.
---
“Sky battle,” Sapnap calls as the decision dome below them lights up in confirmation of the penultimate game, expression immediately becoming more focused as he turns back to the rest of the team. “Alright- strats, what are we thinking?”
“There’s the iron at spawn,” Dream starts, interrupted by the teleport to the Sky Battle arena, making him cut himself off comically and take a second to shake off the resulting disorientation, “And then there’s the iron in the nearby island. We gotta pick one, tower as soon as we can.”
“Got it,” Sapnap looks down, seemingly calculating, before looking up again - Michael has heard him compared to fire before, but he thinks this is the first time he’s really seen it; there’s a veritable blaze burning in his eyes as he looks at each member of the team, easily taking charge as they prepare for the first round. “Same buddy system as Survival Games - Q, stick with me, Michael, stick with Dream. I’ll tower to the next island- Dream, you good with getting the iron at spawn and crafting armor for us?”
Dream startles, before flashing a small thumbs up at the other - Sapnap smiles wider, teeth bared dangerously.
“This is our game,” he cheers, and Michael enthusiastically whoops in reply, “we’re winning this, you got that team? Let’s go!”
This, Michael thinks, is the way the games should’ve gone - they jump into action upon the start of the game, Michael watching as Dream races through both chests on the spawn island, getting the iron and jumping down cleanly with a water bucket before following Sapnap’s bridge to the other island. He tosses over a pair of leggings and boots as he lands, then takes Sapnap’s excess iron to craft the other pieces of iron for himself and Sapnap as the other man begins shooting at opposing teams. Their communication is near wordless, simple one- or two-word requests communicating all they need as they follow each other seamlessly into the main arena area, sealing off their entrance as they search the ring for other teams.
Sapnap, especially, seems to have shifted - instead of waiting for Dream to take the lead, he seems comfortable barrelling on forward on his own, trusting for Dream to follow his steps. Michael watches as the two of them easily work through the two lagging members of Orange, shooting through a gap in the wall to catch an unsuspecting Yellow player chased by the border. Michael ends up dying to an unlucky block of TNT placed on his head - curses out what appears to be Quig, bounding over to the other side of the arena, and follows Dream and Sapnap as they continue to fight their way through the competition.
It’s not perfect, for sure - Dream hesitates at a bad place a minute later, ending with Sapnap getting 2v1ed and exploding in a flash of red sparkles. Dream is similarly dispatched a few seconds after, and the three of them watch Quackity, caught in the crossfire of two other teams, before he also goes down.
“Good work, team,” Sapnap says as he appears, disoriented, in spectator mode, and they watch the remaining two teams battling in a rapidly shrinking border before Fruit falls as well, leaving Pink as the winners. “That was close- we’ve got this.” The conviction in his voice leaves no room for argument, and Michael, briefly, feels bad for anyone that stands in the way of it.
With the second round, they once again fall into rhythm without any major hiccups - someone tries to cut them off before entering the main arena, but are made quick work of by Sapnap’s relentless onslaught. As Michael watches, Dream seems to regain confidence as well, moving more to fight with Sapnap side by side instead of just playing support, tugging him back from a risky play and catching Punz in a nasty combo that does him in when he manages to slip past Sapnap.
The four of them end up in the final stand off in the middle, but end up getting caught too high up and killed by the border before they can jump down. Sapnap hisses at the narrow defeat, but the disappointment has hardly seemed to dim his determination - if anything, it seems to burn brighter.
“Last round,” he mutters, and Michael watches as Dream walks up to him, bumping him lightly with his shoulder.
“This is our game,” he says, a small smile appearing on his face, and Sapnap returns it with a fiery, blinding one of his own.
“Ours,” he says, and even just standing on the side, watching - Michael believes it.
Still, his concerns have yet to disappear - they linger in his mind as they jump into an adrenaline-filled last round, jumpy from excitement and victory just within their grasps. Dream is still more jittery than he should be, taking a second more than usual to react to fights, and his teamwork with Sapnap - while good - is still noticeably rusty. Michael’s lips thin at the memory of Dream backing away from Sapnap’s sword in Battle Box, hunched into himself, almost on the floor, with a clearly desperate edge to his expression - and no matter how he tries, he can’t quite manage to shake it off.
Unfortunately enough, the third round doesn’t bode well for them from the start - Quackity gets bowed off while bridging to the main arena, and upon entrance there they end up flanked, hard, by another team in a conflict that gets Michael killed within seconds. Sapnap and Dream book it to the other side of the arena, where they manage to work through a full team without too much trouble - but the next minute brings another half-team flying at them from the back, catching them in the middle of trying to recuperate. The two focus Dream in the middle of eating a steak, and Michael watches as Dream steps back instead of moving forward to fight, that same shade of fear making his muscles seize as he stands, stock still, watching helplessly as swords fly his way- Michael cries out, but there’s nothing he can do-
Between one blink and the next, Sapnap is standing in front of Dream, a snarl painting his features as he whirls through both players in a fury. Michael watches, awed, as his sword weaves and dances between the two attacking Dream, making quick work of them both until they’re no more than items scattered over the ground, then grabs Dream by the wrist and drags him up a nearby ladder onto the upper floor, plopping him by the wall and then backing off.
Sapnap stands back as Dream sits against the wall, breathing fast and labored, dropping to his knees with his hands in front of him, palms up, no weapons in hand. Michael watches, frantic, for the signs of any teams nearby - with Dream panicking and Sapnap’s back to the rest of the arena, they’d be easy pickings - but for once, luck seems to be on their side, because no one comes. Dream heaves a breath through his lungs, deep and shuddery - Sapnap watches, lips flat from concern, but doesn’t speak.
“You good to continue?” he asks, when Dream seems calm enough to recognize his surroundings, and Dream looks up at the words, jaw slack from shock and disorientation, before his head dips in a firm nod.
“Good,” Sapnap smiles, tight-lipped and fiercely determined, fiercely loyal, as he reaches out a hand that Dream moves to take. “Let’s go fuck them up, yeah? You and me, just like we used to.”
Michael watches, heart in his chest, as they stand together to face the rest of the competition, towering towards the middle and facing off with the remaining teams, watches as they move forwards through explosions and buckets of lava, coalescing onto the middle island, as they battle through the remaining opponents as one in a clean spiral of clashing blades and flying arrows, fighting with their backs to each other in the center of the arena. He watches as a well-placed fishing rod by Dream knocks their final opponent off the platform, leaving them in the middle, triumphant, as the only remaining team -
Watches, a brilliant, bubbling laugh in his chest as Dream and Sapnap take their spots in the middle of the arena, standing side by side as Sapnap raises Dream’s hand in victory, both laughing and cheering into the sky.
---
Their performance in Sky Battle manages to pull them to third - but second place still stands a few hundred coins away, and they watch anxiously as Parkour Tag is chosen as the last game and they are transported over the arena.
“Last game,” Sapnap calls, “We’ve got this, alright?”
He gets terse, short nods in return - it’ll be a close game, and even Michael is feeling the pressure. He breathes a soft, quiet breath through his teeth as they prepare, looking over to the opposite team as they choose their hunters and runners.
“Dream, you up to hunting first four?” Sapnap seems to be watching the effects of his words more, waiting for Dream’s agreement before moving forward, sliding into the position of leader easily when Dream seems to struggle. Dream nods and steps into the hunter’s box, lips pressed together, flat and focused, and Michael turns back to the arena to plan out his route.
Parkour, by far, is not his strong suit. It hadn’t been his strong suit during Parkour Warrior and sure as hell isn’t it now - he enjoys it well enough, but with the pressure of a hunter on him or the time creeping past and the competition standings hanging over his head like a guillotine, he’s prone to slipping up and he knows it. The map is full of dizzying, multi-colored structures and difficult jumps, the twists and turns of the arena making his head spin. Being good at parkour is more than being good at movement - it involves being able to make split-second decisions and execute them with no time to hesitate. Unfortunately, Michael isn’t particularly good at any of that, so Parkour Tag mostly just stresses him the hell out.
He sets out to the arena, listening for callouts over comms as he fumbles over the buildings. Halfway through the game, Dream’s voice comes through comms, quiet, focused.
“Gottem.”
“Nice, Dream,” Michael smiles, trying not to trip over a particularly hard jump, only to fall to being tagged in the back by the opposing team’s hunter - Ant, if he remembers right. “Sapnap and Q are still in- we’ve got this.”
Once again, each time, Dream races through the opposing team in seconds, seemingly going faster with each round. Michael has heard his reputation as a hunter before, but only now is he really appreciating the extent - the speed at which he manages to dispatch all three opponents is downright terrifying. They manage to win all four rounds, lingering around second place overall on the leaderboards, before Sapnap and Dream switch off for hunting.
With each round, Michael watches Dream in the lobby, watching as he tenses further in focus and determination and no small degree of fear, but it hadn’t been nearly as obvious in between rounds. Now, with him in the arena with Quackity and himself, Dream’s jumpiness is all that more palpable, adrenaline making him pace and jump in place from where he stands at the edge of the place. The glass lowers, and he explodes into motion, bounding on top of the nearest tower to wait for the hunter to come towards them.
Michael ends up caught first, early in the round, once again, and resolves to following Dream over the glass to watch his movements and make callouts for the hunter chasing behind him. Watching Dream move through the arena, dodging below fixtures and through tunnels and jumping from tower to tower with seemingly no regard for gravity pulling him down, it’s become all the more obvious that this is his element. He makes another hairpin turn around a pole, kicking himself up over a tower and then diving from it to a nearby building, landing on a ledge inside it, hands clutching the wall - Michael watches, quietly awed, as he outlasts the hunter, landing in small, panting breaths in the lobby.
“Great work,” he cheers, quiet, as Dream shakes off the last dregs of the adrenaline, all of them watching the leaderboard anxiously, “Just three more rounds, alright?”
The rounds that follow continue in much of the same vein - Dream, once he’s gotten started, seems near-impossible to chase down; Michael and Quackity provide support, distracting the hunter for as long as they can until they get tagged, but part of him wonders if it’s all even necessary. Dream flies from structure to structure seemingly unhindered by The Laws That Be, expression firm, if a little frantic, as he parkours his way through the arena. To their credit, the hunters chase, and several come pretty close - but Dream, worked up on adrenaline or anxiety or some twisted mix of the two, races over and around the buildings within the arena like his life depends on it.
It’s a surprisingly (if sickeningly) apt description - the skill in parkour is far from unacknowledged on Dream’s record; they all know his reputation with Parkour Warrior, all know that there are little that can match his skill as a traucer - but there’s something newly desperate in the way he runs, the muscles of his body tight and taut even in between rounds, expression permanently tight at the corners from fear. His movements, lacking in their usual fluidity, are made up with sheer speed and mad scrambles up walls that no one else seems to dare replicate. It’s concerning, even to Michael’s untrained eye, how frantic he seems the entire time, the flashes of expressions that he’ll direct towards the hunter like being caught by them will be his end, but- if anything, at least it’s effective.
Between his parkour and Sapnap’s own skill, they manage to dominate the other teams without much issue, and the bonuses from eliminating the other team first combined with Dream’s survival points each round land them a first place for the game by just a few hundred coins. The four of them watch with bated breaths for the event standings, whooping and cheering together when it shows the red rabbits in second -
“DODGEBOLT, BABY!” Quackity cheers, loudly, and the rest of them join him, laughing and screaming incoherently, “LET’S FUCKING GO!”
“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Sapnap punches the air with a loud, resolute whoop of joy, and Dream - still shaking off the jitters of his last round in Parkour Tag - soon joins in with a few cheers of his own.
Michael watches them all with a smile on his face as they cheer in victory - Dodgebolt has them against the Yellow Yaks, which will be a hard match up, but between Dream and Sapnap’s skill, if they all stay focused, they shouldn’t have any issue.
They’ve done it. They’ve made it to Dodgebolt - if they keep their heads in the game, then they should win. All he has to do is keep his head down a little longer, long enough to win them the game, long enough for them to go home with new crowns and new coins, long enough for him to go back to living his quaint little life in his quaint little house - going back to heckling the Warden at night and hanging with Bad and Puffy, working on builds and living life away from the rest and pretending that nothing is wrong. The server will go back to normal come tomorrow, and it will all be okay.
The smile slips off his face.
They’ve done it. And then they’ll go back to the SMP, and Dream might evade whatever immediate consequences come with losing, but there’s no evidence that whatever’s caused that heartstopping, devastating fear that has characterized his every move is going to stop. They’ll win, and they’ll go back to the SMP, and they’ll keep dying and fighting wars and keep pretending that the world they live in is normal; they’ll go back to the server, and Michael will go back in his house while Dream goes back into his cell directly across from it, still locked in a black box with no way in or out, no means of communication with anyone outside, locked away with the key thrown away for anything to happen with no one to know-
Michael glances over to Dream, to the tense edge of his shoulders that has never left for as long as the tournament has continued and long before. To the grey-faced, grey-eyed inhabitants of the SMP, coming to the Championships with sealed lips and a shared determination to never reveal that anything is wrong, to pretend that things are normal and move on.
Michael’s hands clench into fists at his side, then unclench, the helplessness cutting through his excitement like a splash of cold water straight through his chest. They’ll win the Championship, and then what? They’ll go back to the server, and then what?
He looks up at the sky, avoiding the eyes of the rest of his team as they are teleported to the arena. Around him, nothing comes in reply.
---
“Shit-”
Sapnap disappears in a flourish of red particles, and Michael winces as Dream picks up the arrow he left behind, biting his lip as he watches the opposite side maneuver on the ice.
Both of Dream’s shots hit true, and Michael switches to dodging over the ice as the opposing team begins to shoot. His mind is still buzzing with uncertainty, questions whirling around his skull and making his head spin, the reminder to just let things be raging against the anxiety that has wormed its way deep into his bones for the better part of the day. His performance has fallen a bit as a result, and they’re tied, 2-2, for the last round of Dodgebolt against Yellow - winner takes all.
He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell, but he wants to fall back into the background. He wants to make a difference, but also wants nothing more than to go on pretending that everything is fine. It would be so, so easy to move on and wash his hands of the whole affair - it’s not like anyone else will know, only himself and the guilt that he’s sure will haunt him to remind him of his failures. Is there even anything he can do? He’s no genius at combat, or parkour, or strategy- all he has are his eyes, his ability to see what the hell is happening with no means to change any of it.
An arrow whizzes towards him, too low to hit, and falls to the ice by his feet. Michael feels it plop into his inventory as he runs past it, shivering slightly from the cold or adrenaline or some mix of the two - not that he can really tell. The other team still has an arrow, the gleaming arrowhead catching the light as the person shooting - Jack, it looks like - moves it from one side to the other, looking for someone to aim. Michael lets the arrow into his hand, feeling its weight.
A sudden shock of clarity.
He staggers back and nearly trips over his own feet, feeling relief rock his body when he manages to catch his balance - his eyes rake over the rest of his team, still dodging over the ice, completely focused on the opposing side. He worries his lip between his teeth - it’s a risk. It’s a hell of a risk, and if he messes up - they’re fucked. They’re more than fucked. There’s a good chance that this does more harm than good, a good chance that it won’t do anything at all.
Michael takes a deep breath, and nocks his arrow.
With his bow pointed to the floor, he doesn’t think anyone’s noticed yet - especially the rest of his team, gazes still trained over the centerline to the other side of the arena. Michael plants his feet, raises his bow, aims - he’s standing still, too still, and he can already see Jack swinging the bow towards him from the corner of his eye, preparing to let the arrow fly directly at him. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter.
Keep your head down.
Michael lets go, and Quackity manages to turn just in time to see the arrow hit him between his eyes.
Not this time.
Michael just manages a wicked, satisfied smirk before the world disappears in a flash of red.
---
“What the hell was that?”
Michael teleports into the middle of the MCC main lobby, finding Quackity already mid-yell in front of the podium, where the Yellow Yaks have taken their places as the winners of the Championships, new, shining crowns on their heads as they greet the crowd with smiles and cheers. Michael turns to where the rest of the team has gathered in the corner, Quackity hissing angrily at Dream, curled into himself against the fence.
“I- I-”
“You lost us the fucking game, that’s what you did,” Quackity grabs him by the arm, rage painting his features as he yanks Dream closer to him, ignoring the other’s panicked yell at the proximity and flailing to get away. “What the fuck- you had both the arrows. How the fuck did you miss that?”
“Back the hell off, Quackity.”
Michael steps forward, bodily shoving Quackity out of the way - Dream’s head rises just enough for the two eyes painted on his mask to look above where they’d been hidden behind his arms, though Michael’s far too lost in his own anger to pay any mind to him at the moment. Quackity turns his furious direction towards Michael, only seeming to get angrier as he meets his eyes.
“Oh, fuck off, Michael- you-” he rakes a hand through his hair, “You fucking- we fucking lost because of you, you know that? We had that! We were going to win that, you fucker-”
“And then what, Quackity?” The words Michael had been pushing back the entire day come forth, mixed with his simmering anxiety and muffled anger that he’d been forced to push down, game after game after game, one bubbling mess of emotion underscoring his tone and making Quackity rear back, “Then you’ll go back the SMP and pretend that everything’s fine and dandy? Go back to your shiny little country with a shiny new coin, beat up Dream a few times to work off the adrenaline because, hey, it’s not like anyone else is gonna know if he’s black and blue inside of that shitstain of a prison, is that right?”
The flash of panic that makes its way over Quackity’s face is more than enough to confirm the worst of Michael’s assumptions, and the rage that has made a home in his chest only burns hotter.
“What- what the fuck did he say?” Quackity barely manages to catch onto his tone, pressing harder with narrowed eyes and a snarl, “He’s lying, you fucking idiot, that’s all he ever fucking does-”
“He’s not told me shit,” Michael presses forward, forcefully pushing Quackity away from Dream, who is cowering from both of them behind him, “But you would know a hell of a lot about that, wouldn’t you Quackity?”
“I have no fuckin’ clue what you’re on about, pal,” Quackity shakes his head, hair whipping past his eyes, “And I’d recommend you shut your fucking mouth before you go around hurling baseless accusations- I could have you sued for defamation, you know-”
“Oh, we’re talking law, now? Fine! We’ll talk legalities- how about we start with that casino of yours and work from there?”
Sapnap moves over, quiet thus far as he watched from the sidelines, and Michael watches as Quackity relaxes, minisculely, at his approach - only to tense further when Sapnap presses a hand to his shoulder, meeting his eyes with blazing eyes staring right at his.
“Q,” Sapnap says, voice uncharacteristically serious, “tell the truth, now- what did you do?”
Quackity laughs - it sounds unsure, even in Michael’s ears, “Sapnap? You can’t tell me you believe-” he waves his hands frantically, “this- this fucking asshole, now, do you hear him? He sounds- he’s literally out of his fucking mind-”
Sapnap shakes his head, firm. “Quackity, I’ll need you to cut the bullshit. What did you do?”
“He’s backing up Dream, Sapnap,” Quackity focuses his gaze on Sapnap, something creeping up in his tone, sweet and cloying despite the bitter tone, that Michael can’t quite recognize, “You know what Dream is like- he pulled the same shit with you, remember? You and George? Tommy?” He waves a hand at Dream, who ducks down further at the attention, “He hasn’t changed, man! He’s still pulling the same bullshit, still manipulating people for the hell of it- you know, the exact same thing he did to you? Don’t fall for that again, man.”
“I-” Sapnap seems to hesitate, conflict warring over his features.
“Look at me, Sap - you know what Dream’s like. He pretends to be your friend, makes up some stupid bullshit to justify his shit - Michael hasn’t been around for as long, not like the two of us, remember? He doesn’t know.” Quackity brings his hand to Sapnap’s own, ignoring Michael’s protests as he laces their fingers together, “I care about you, Sap. All of this- I’m just worried that he’ll end up manipulating you again. I’m just trying to protect you.”
“...liar.”
“What?”
Sapnap steps back, wrenching his hand out of Quackity’s own. His expression, out of what Michael can see from the sliver of his face that is facing him, is stormy with fury and no small amount of regret - Quackity steps back, unease finally beginning to flicker in the corners of his self-satisfied expression as Sapnap stares him down.
“You’re a liar, Quackity.” Sapnap draws himself up. “Now, I’m asking this for the last time- what did you do?”
Quackity’s expression stutters, falls, as Sapnap stands back next to Michael, the two of them between him and Dream. His eyes flick between their faces, then to Dream, then back again, frown deepening with every pass he makes between the three of them. Michael keeps his arms crossed in front of his chest, feeling his muscles tense with every second of silence that ticks by, Quackity seeming to grow more and more angry and tense under their scrutiny and unforgiving stances-
-a second passes, and he throws himself forward.
“Quackity!”
Michael only manages to throw himself out of the way of the man barrelling towards him just in time - too late, he realizes that he wasn’t Quackity’s intended target. He tackles Dream to the ground, pinning the taller man underneath himself onto the ground in a rough thump that seems to knock all the air out of him. Dream immediately begins to thrash aimlessly, jaw going slack in panic as Quackity levels his arm against his neck, going still as Quackity presses harder against his windpipe. Michael is only barely close enough to pick up what he says over the sound of the surrounding screaming, Sapnap rushing forward to pull Quackity off to no avail-
“-make what I did two weeks ago look like a fucking joke when we get back, going to make you wish you fucking died-”
The world explodes into white.
When Michael’s vision clears, he’s face to face to the stony face of one of the MCC admins, their status displayed by the proud red [Admin] by their nametags and the fact that they’re floating several inches off the fucking floor. He backs away, strangely winded - probably from the panic or adrenaline or yelling or, more accurately, all three, as Quackity is pulled back effortlessly by an admin, easily caging his flailing limbs with a snap of code as he is frozen into place - and Michael whoops.
“LET’S GO!”
(The arrow hits Michael in the shoulder, and he disappears in a flash of red - only instead of going to his usual place above the Dodgebolt arena, standing with the other competitors, he finds himself teleported in front of a dizzying array of screens and buttons, too many to have any idea where they connect and how they work. Michael turns to meet the faces of the MCC Admins, each one looking at him with odd, concerned expressions and furrowed brows.
“You shot your teammate,” one says - Noxite - and Michael nods to concede the point, not quite finding the words to speak. “Why?”
“If you had such a big issue with the teams, you could’ve just talked to Scott,” another one pipes up from the back, “I’m sure we could’ve worked something out.”
“I know, I know,” Michael runs his hand through his hair, both relieved at the plan working better than he could’ve ever fucking imagined and suddenly lost for words in front of the admins, each one looking at him with their full attention. Every nerve in his body rails against the scrutiny, reminds him to pretend that nothing is wrong - but it’s too late to pretend, now. It’s been too late for a long, long time.
He remembers Dream, looking away all competition, voice dead and lacking all of its former vitality - remembers Puffy, hair a little greyer from stress, grief painting her face whenever she thought anyone wasn’t looking - remembers Bad, hands still shaking despite his attempts to hide it - the prison, looming on the horizon, unbeatable, impenetrable - himself, helpless, for all this time, to do anything but watch and wait. Until now. He takes a deep breath, steels himself-
“Something’s wrong with Dream.”)
“Thank you for your information, Michael,” Noxite smiles at him, and relief throws itself through his system so fast that it makes him dizzy- “We’ll handle this from here. Good job.”
“Holy shit- when did you get time to contact the fucking admins, Michael?”
Michael ignores the clamor around him as the lobby bursts into activity and people talking over each other, each one probably trying to figure out what the hell just happened, ignores Sapnap muttering, awed, from beside him, to move towards Dream, still sprawled out over the floor. There’s an admin by him, standing by to seemingly keep the crowd away but not engaging with Dream directly, and Michael ducks by them to kneel down by Dream and meet his gaze.
“Hey,” Michael smiles, still shaking from the leftover adrenaline as he presses his hands to the ground to try and hide it, “We’ve got you. It’s over- Quackity’s gone. You’re safe now.”
“Michael?” Dream’s voice is so damn small when his head twists to look over, hair having fallen largely fallen out of his ponytail to land in wisps all around his face. “You- how-”
“Don’t worry about it,” Michael shushes him, chest twisting painfully. “It’s alright.”
“...I don’t feel so good.”
Dream coughs harshly, and Michael quickly maneuvers him to a sitting position as his shoulders shake with another one, hand flying to his mouth as he is wracked with loud, wet-sounding coughs. Concern wells up in his throat, watching as Dream shakes with more coughing, nearly choking as he curls into himself, muscles tense. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls his hand back, and Michael gasps at the sight.
“Dream-”
There’s blood, and a lot of it - mixed with the saliva in his palm, shiny and stringy over the planes of his hand, dribbling past his lips and down his chin. His teeth are similarly stained red when his mouth opens slightly, stance wobbling before he collapses altogether against Michael’s body - Michael can barely hear himself shouting for a medic as Dream heaves a rattling, wet sounding breath into his shoulder.
“Th’ts not g’d,” he mumbles, quiet, before going completely limp.
---
When you first get strong enough to go to the Nether and collect blaze rods and brew potions for the first time, the first thing that gets beaten into your head forwards, backwards, left, right, and every way in between is that health and regen aren’t a replacement for actual recovery. Instant health pots are famous for their tendency to heal everything affected to the same degree - which is bad when you have a particularly deep injury, as it’ll often finish healing it near the surface while the injury persists underneath. Regen pots tend to be better at that front, but even they cannot completely fix a serious injury - the two can only act as a temporary, emergency fix for severe wounds, often being an invaluable resource to stop the worst of the bleeding and hold everything together for long enough to bring someone to proper medical attention.
Unfortunately, when someone tries to use health pots and regens to completely bypass the time and rest needed for the body to properly heal itself and recover, what usually ends up happening is internal injuries - not completely healed by the potions alone - continue to be jostled and irritated, which can lead to further, worse, problems with internal bleeding and bones shifting out of place if they’ve been broken, which can then pierce through muscle and organ tissue - to be honest, Michael was never the best with all the medical stuff, and he’s half-sure that the horror stories he’s heard were exaggerated to beat it into his head never to be an idiot that thinks that potions can solve everything, but either way, he’s never tested his luck with the things.
Unfortunately, Dream doesn’t seem to have done the same, as the entire day’s worth of intense activity, between practices and MCC itself, were more than enough to fuck over the healing effects of whatever health potions he apparently downed before coming to the Championships. From what Michael has heard, it got a little harried after he was first brought into the hospital, but he’s apparently stabilized since - recovery will be slow, both physically and mentally, but at least he’s out of that damn prison to actually start on that path.
“Simply put, your teammate is a bit of an idiot,” Scott tells him when he finally catches him in the waiting room, hair fluffed up at the sides from where he’s evidently messed it up in Admin-related stress. “But he should be alright now, with proper medical attention and lots of rest - make sure to tell him to actually rest, will ya? No more parkouring for him - he can wait until after he’s out of the hospital to show us all how it’s done.”
Michael laughs, relief settling into his chest, “Thanks, Scott.” He directs a playfully accusing look towards the other, a grin tugging at his lips, “but you know, he’s only my teammate because you made it that way. Kinda sounds like your own fault there..”
“Oh, quiet, you.” Scott laughs- he looks stressed, and Michael feels a twinge of sympathy. The administrative side of things after his whole stunt at Dodgebolt, and then especially with what happened in the main lobby, must be an absolute nightmare. “Anyway, I need to go back - Admin meeting,” he shakes his head, already looking at his comm. “You should go see Dream, by the way. I think he’s awake.”
“Thanks for everything, Scott.”
Scott smiles at him, soft, sincere. “Go see your friend.”
He disappears in a flash of white light, teleporting away, and Michael looks at the empty space where he stood for a few seconds before standing up out of his chair to move towards the door. He hesitates at it for a second, hand on the doorknob but not yet turning it to the side - it’s suddenly awkward, without the pressure of the competition at his back and the relentless questions of what he should do. He doesn’t even know if Dream knows what happened, or if he’ll be happy with him - for all he knows, Dream was the one who started the whole ‘don’t tell the Championships what happens in the server’ deal. His teeth catch on his lip as he stands, lost in thought, at the door.
Well. Here goes nothing.
He eases the door open, getting a glimpse inside the room - it’s white, clean-looking, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air. There’s a bed in the middle of the room, a chair on the side with his Championships clothing and what appears to be some sort of padded body armor laid over the cushions. Dream, as expected, is lying down in the bed, unmoving; for a second, Michael thinks he’s sleeping, before he suddenly twists his head over to look at him.
“Michael?”
“Hey,” Michael smiles, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. For the first time today, Dream’s face isn’t masked, a glimpse of it visible behind him on the dresser by the bed. He blinks up at him owlishly, eyes wide and green, looking even bigger combined with the hollow planes of his cheeks, overlaid by pale, slightly raised scars. “How are you feeling, man?”
“Um-” Dream tries to pull himself up, visibly struggling, and Michael rolls his eyes as he hurries over to help raise the back of the cot because you’re supposed to be resting, Dream, just let the fancy bed do its job, and settles back with an odd look on his face as Michael pulls over a chair. “Good? I think? I mean-” he flails his hands a bit, “this is weird. And I kind of hate this gown- but um. Yeah.”
“That’s fair,” Michael laughs, and Dream huffs a small laugh out of his own, settling back into his pillow. He looks strangely small, with all the layers stripped away, frail and skinny against the sheets. His skin isn’t that same paper-white shade it had been when he collapsed in the middle of the fucking lobby, but it’s still pale enough to be vaguely worrying, especially combined with the IV and other wires hooked up to him.
“Apparently, I’m dehydrated,” Dream drawls when he catches Michael staring at the IV, making a small, frustrated sound through his teeth as Michael turns to look at him, “figures, I guess, but still sucks. I hate needles.”
“Ouch,” Michael winces in sympathy, “yeah, those don’t look that fun.” Dream smiles up at him, before his expression shutters, dulls, and he looks away, not meeting his eyes. The sight of it makes Michael frown, quiet, remembering the way he’d drawn back from them all over and over again throughout the day - that fear and trauma won’t go away in a day, but it hurts all that much more to see his face as panic flashes across it and he pulls back, gaze carefully detached.
“Dream?” Michael moves closer, but is careful not to make contact, “you alright?”
“Hmm?” Dream directs another small, tight smile his way, strained at the corners as his eyes flick away to the floor once again, “yeah- I’m- I’m fine.”
Michael sighs, but decides not to push it. “Have you done anything else here, yet?”
Dream shakes his head. “No- I think that someone’s going to bring food over soon, I’m not sure. Not really hungry,” he mutters, half to himself, and Michael tamps down the concern that wells up in protest, “But we’ll see, I guess.”
“That’s good,” Michael nods, and Dream looks up at him, expression startlingly unsure.
“Um- do you know?” He wrings his hands together, eyes darting across the room nervously before flicking over Michaels’ face, and Michael tries to make himself look as calm and comfortable as possible, “I mean- do you know what’s going on with- everyone?”
Ah. Michael winces internally- he probably should’ve expected this question, but in the fallout of what happened in the lobby and Dream, you know, passing out in his arms, he ended up brushing off or ignoring a lot of the chaos that resulted. He wracks his head for snippets of information that he’d seen in his communicator and from visitors to the waiting room, including people that had been there with him that had been pulled for questioning and meetings, Tommy’s expletive-filled yelling from the lobby still ringing in his head.
“Um- I think that they’ve got a team of moderators pulled up to investigate the server, figure out what’s been going on,” Michael ticks names off on his hands, mentally going through the list of people that he’s been given information on, “They have Quackity in custody, I think, for the moment- they’re still waiting for more information on what to do with him, but they’ve got a whole MCC lobby’s worth of witnesses that saw him assault you so far, if you plan on pressing charges and stuff- um- Sapnap got pulled for questioning, nothing too major right now, I think that they’re going through the other server members that were attending the Championships for the moment.”
“Are they- putting them in jail?” Dream’s voice sounds slightly tinny despite his forced calm, arms crossed in front of him, and Michael shakes his head firmly.
“No- legal stuff between servers is weird, and I think they’re holding off on anything like that for now. Quackity’s just there at the moment because of assault charges on the MCC server - stuff in the SMP is still technically outside of their jurisdiction.” Dream visibly relaxes, and Michael smiles thinly, “It’ll be rough for a few weeks as they collect evidence and figure out what to do, but for now, they’re just focusing on recovery - giving people medical attention if they need it, lining up therapists,” he laughs, quietly, “lots of therapists.”
Dream hums, looking away. The corners of his mouth fall, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes a shuddery sigh through his lips.
“I- never wanted it to get this bad,” he opens his eyes, looking down at his hands, lip slightly trembling, “I don’t- I don’t know where it all went wrong.”
“Hey,” Michael slides closer, ducking to meet Dream’s eyes with a soft smile. “You’re not alone anymore, alright? You don’t have to fix it all by yourself. Focus on yourself, on recovering.”
Dream hesitates, breath seeming caught in his throat, wide green eyes staring into Michael’s own, before ducking his head to look away with a slight nod. Michael leans back in his chair, watching as Dream turns to the side, curling in on himself slightly with a small wince, eyes fixed on the window.
“Didn’t think I was going to see the sun again,” Dream says after a while, gaze still trained behind the glass to where the sun is slowly setting, rays of sunlight streaming past the slits in the blinds and casting glowing stripes of honey-gold throughout the room and over Dream’s face. Michael feels something cold press against the back of his throat, the quiet admission making air stutter in his lungs at the image of Dream, alone, huddled in the middle of an obsidian box for months and months and months, never knowing if he’d see anything other than the same black walls for the rest of his life.
“You’re not there, anymore. You’re safe now.”
Dream doesn’t reply, continuing to look out the window silently, breathing slowly as he moves his hand through a sunbeam, watching the way it streams between his fingers and warms his skin, seeming mesmerized by its soft glow.
“Michael?” Dream looks over, and Michael feels the air punched out of his lungs at the soft, disbelieving sincerity held within his expression, the fearful edges for once pulled back far enough for the light to catch the quiet, heartfelt appreciation gathered in the slight quirk of his lips and downward slope of his eyes. He looks away a second after, a band of light cutting across his face and landing over the bridge of his nose, smile still on his face, voice almost too quiet to make out. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Michael feels his own smile widen, looking out the window himself- it really is a beautiful sunset. “What are friends for?”
#-> my writing#my writing :D#c!Quackity critical#tw trauma#tw abuse#tw torture#tw panic attack#tw manipulation#tw gaslighting#tw needles#tw hospitals#tw emotional distress#pandora's vault#prison arc#god this was so fun#hope you all enjoy !!#long post
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Elves Dressing Up for Halloween
Gondolin
Halloween Request: Hello! For a Halloween request, could I ask for headcanons of what the elves of Gondolin would dress up as for a costume? Would any be extremely hesitant? Would any be receptive to couples costumes? Thank you (and if not, thanks for taking time to read this!) 😌 - @sterling-roses
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Turgon
Turgon honestly isn’t one for dressing up at all on Halloween and will not be partial to even couples costuming. If anything he would much rather host a party and keep his usual attire than have to dress up as anything. Even if it is customary.
At most you may get a masquerade mask on him and that is as far as it will go. So every year, being quite the creature of habit, he prefers to go as a King than let his hair down a little and relax. Though Turgon will support you in almost whatever costume you decide to go in AS LONG AS it is appropriate.
Nothing inappropriate or overly sexual as Turgon is a little bit of a prude. Though he won’t fight you too hard and be considerably flustered all night over it and bite his tongue. He’ll eventually grow used to whatever costume he may not find appropriate but it certainly takes some time for him to get used to it.
Glorfindel
Glorfindel loves dressing up, being the big ray of sunshine that he is, and has a lot of fun dressing up! He is really creative and thinks outside the box on the costume ideas that he comes up with.
And when you ask him to dress up in couples costuming he immediately jumps at the chance to be able to do so. Glorfindel also loves to be able to help create these said out of the box costumes too. For example you have a ton of cardboard boxes at your disposal, he will absolutely spend the time to make a costume out of it. Robot? Fish tank? Washing Machine? He’ll put it together.
Glorfindel also really loves puny costume ideas too. Anything that can be a big play on words he is bound to figure out an idea for you both to wear. No matter how ridiculously cheesy that idea might be, Glorfindel will absolutely run with it. He has a blast coming up with the ideas.
You are absolutely welcome to assist in coming up with something, Glorfindel loves to hear any of your ideas. And if you are more partial to an idea that you have, he is happy to relent to you and get your costumes put together with whatever theme you prefer. Either way, Glorfindel is just really happy to spend time with you like this!
Ecthelion
Ecthelion is pretty rigid and formal and strict, so when it comes to dressing up for Halloween, he isn’t all too elaborate in dressing up. If anything he may add an accessory or two to a really nice outfit, but it is never anything over the top.
So when you suggest couples costuming, Ecthelion is a little hesitant to join you in any of the ideas that you might have. They might need to start off relatively conservative and more classic like Period specific costuming or Historical Figures or something Masquerade style.
He feels a little odd all dressed up, especially since it is not the one or two accessories that might dress up his costume. But Ecthelion trusts you deeply to not put him in something ridiculous or make him look ridiculous and tries to enjoy the fun of the night all dressed up.
I do not recommend really letting him choose in the beginning of your costume couple planning because he will not venture even into the more conservative spaces. Choosing to keep it more to what he is already comfortable with.
Rog
Rog loves to dress up and though he does, his costumes can be pretty simple. Happy to dress up and throw together whatever he might have at home. Even if it means wearing work attire for Halloween. A blacksmith is technically a costume.
So when you suggest couples costuming, Rog is really happy to let you take the reins and lead the way on what to dress up as! He’s a lot of fun and can easily get super into character with it. Such as if you want to dress him up like he walked right out of Woodstock 1960 and give him a few verbal cues to use, he will shamelessly use them.
Rog’s a big ball of fun and the life of the party, and after the first time you two couples costume expect to couples costume from then on out. Cops and Robbers, Period Costuming, Heavenly Themed, Character Specific, whatever it may be he is down for it (unless it is offensive). The ellon will absolutely costume with you in those inflatable costumes and have a ball with it. Inflatable sumo or dinosaur is absolutely up for grabs.
Just know you will probably have to have it custom made and fitted for him properly. And Rog will absolutely try to wrestle or horseplay with someone in the said inflatable costumes. Anticipate that he may go home in it with it deflated because he will eventually pop it.
Penlod
Penlod in his true fashion is dressing up as a Historical Figure. You’ve told him how costumes work and that he can be anything he wants to be, and the ellon is going to choose the most interesting Historical Figure he can.
He will absolutely be as detailed accurate as he can be, from the costume and to the accessories. Penlod puts a lot of attention into his costume and the little pieces that bring it all together.
Penlod will absolutely do couples costumes together, but he will not budge on it not being a historical figure. He WILL consider being a regular civilian in x time period if thats what you wish! Ancient Greece? 1400′s Renaissance? French Rocco? 1800′s? 1920′s? 50′s? You name it and he will dress up as it. He’s a sucker for histories and will happily spend time compiling a costume that is just as detailed as his!
You both will absolutely look like you’ve walked right out of the era you two dressed up as. With Penlod indulging facts about the era to anyone who will listen to him.
Egalmoth
Egalmoth loves being able to dress up really exquisitely and jumps at any opportunity to be able to do so. His costumes are so incredibly elaborate and gem and fine stitch filled they’re absolutely heavenly to look upon.
Sometimes he really doesn’t even pick a theme of what he wants to dress up as when it comes to Halloween. Egalmoth just wants to dress up nicely, he’s a little bit of the “he’s got the spirit but is confused” saying. Though he is absolutely aware that he is supposed to pick a theme. He just chooses to not always do so.
He will absolutely couples costume with you, but when he does, Egalmoth absolutely wants to pick the theme. He’s bold so he is unafraid to pick unearthly themes like dressing up as the Vala of such regal nature, or Ancient Gods in rich costume style or Angels or Monarchy. Anything that allows him to be able to put you both in an incredibly unearthly and regal status he is here for.
Anticipate that Egalmoth, like Penlod, has an extreme eye for detail. So no expense will be spared and your simple costume will quite quickly become a luxurious and intricate affair.
Galdor
Galdor is really go with the flow and has a knack for choosing a good costume with his more go with the flow nature. Though he won’t really dress up unless he finds it necessary to do so for like a party. If he’s solo on Halloween he’s more likely to just stay cozy. But when it comes to couples costuming, he is all for it!
Galdor’s only preference is that he prefers the nature themes, but he won’t strictly adhere to them and will explore other costume themes with you. The only line he will draw is if he finds any of the themes to be vulgar or offensive in anyway.
Whether you two are Witches and Wizards together or the Angel and Devil, Galdor is going to be happy to meet your expectations. He’s got a pretty good sense of humor though and will be happy to dress up in awkward costumes or whatever other humorous costuming you might come up with.
Maeglin
Maeglin is completely and totally hesitant at the idea of dressing up as anything. The idea of just dressing up as whatever, just seems like an open line for someone to possibly criticize what he has chosen and that is an immediate dislike for Maeglin.
As for couples costuming its really really REALLY going to take some convincing to get him to participate. If anything, the first few Halloweens he is probably not going to be receptive to any of it at all. Totally opting to just tagging along while you dress up.
Though he gives in to the peer pressure of everyone asking him where is his costume or hearing how it would be cute if you two dressed up together. Maeglin absolutely lets you choose what you want to dress up as, but I warn that you might want to start out far more conservative and safe options like him being a Knight and you being a Princess/Prince or perhaps you’re both Pirates or maybe you dress up like Ancient Greeks/Romans.
Something that isn’t going to be too over the top, but just enough out of his comfort zone people will recognize that you dressed up.
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Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @icarus-fell-in-spring @someoneinthestars @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdyely @thegirlwithoutaname87 @anunexpectedsideblog @achasiel
#Turgon#Glorfindel#Ecthelion#Rog#Penlod#Egalmoth#Galdor#Maeglin#the silm#the silmarillion#silm#silmarillion#The Fall of Gondolin#jrr tolkien#tolkien#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#imagine#imagines#one shot#one shots#headcanon#headcanons
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v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation
in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what
see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors
disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway
anyway let’s get started!
if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.
with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”
this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.
also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.
thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)
also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic
update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)
the journey continues!
bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with
you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time
wait a goddamn second.
DO YOU SEE THIS
no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller
speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking
running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi
gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there
I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy
ah yes, white angie.
I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand
I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.
return of Enlarged shuichi
puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit
I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.
you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.
let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?
no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game
(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)
meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.
dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him
lovin kaito’s baby arms
real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult
oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it
also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them
JIMMY NEUTRON???
hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck
hey guys do you like my pregame fanart
so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.
that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them
anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.
the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.
regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.
#god I keep telling myself I'm gonna stop rambling about v3#v3 spoilers#drv3 spoilers#ndrv3#random stuff#but making this… it sounded so fun#danganronpa
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“i can’t hear you”
Bakugou Katsuki x best friend reader
soft angst
tw: screaming, emotional meltdown.
short fic about bakugou and you’re his childhood best friend, and you help him through dealing with his hearing loss. enjoy lovies.
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You woke up to the sound of your mother knocking on your door and yelling, “y/n wake up, you have training today with katsuki. i love that boy but i am not in the mood to deal with his explosive attitude over you being late .” You lived right next door to katsuki all your life and since your moms were best friends, you guys were best friends since you learned how to walk. Every saturday you guys would train from 8 AM to noon in his garage since it was basically a mini gym, and then after you both would head over to your house. You checked the time on your phone on the bedside table and it read 7:50. “SHIT MOM WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER” you yelled as you jumped out of bed and quickly found a black tank top and grey sweatpants to train in. You could hear your mom chuckling as she walked away from your door. You grabbed your headphones, phone, water bottle, and Nike’s before yelling a goodbye and dashing over to Katsuki’s front yard.
You knocked on his door four times so that his family knew it was you. You were halfway through slipping your shoes on when Mitsuki answered. She yawned and pulled you into a side hug. “Good morning y/n, you hungry?” She asked as she closed the door behind you guys and started towards the kitchen. “No thanks Mitsuki, I don’t like to train on a full stomach. My mom is making a huge lunch though, you guys are welcome to join us.” You said cheerfully, but kept your voice low since it was very early and you could tell Katsuki’s mom was still half asleep. She nodded and then whipped her head to face you wearing a look on her face as if she had just remembered something very important. “Kat has been very on edge lately and not very responsive this week.” She paused before starting again and turned her gaze to the floor, almost as if she didn’t want to talk. “I think it might have to do with his hearing. He won’t admit it, but I think his quirk is finally starting to affect him. Good thing we put him in those sign language classes as a precaution.” she laughed dryly and then turned back to look at you. “Just, take it easy him with the teasing today okay? and maybe try speaking a little louder. I’ll go see if he’s ready” and with that she gathered herself up the stairs and disappeared.
You thought silently as you waited, and all of a sudden it made sense. Lately at school bakugou has been yelling more than usual, and telling everyone to speak louder. Maybe he was yelling more to be able to hear himself? You didn’t know. Bakugou has been learning sign language since he was 7 years old as a precaution for this and has been regularly signing while he talks since he was 10. So, bakugou using his sign language all the time wasn’t uncommon, but maybe Mitsuki was right. You made a mental note not to say anything until you actually noticed a big change in your guys’ training. You waited patiently for about another 10 minutes before Katsuki finally came downstairs.
“Hey idiot, nice outfit.” Katsuki greeted you in his groggy morning voice, his hands signing his words lazily. You looked down at the tank top and sweatpants you were wearing and looked back to him, you both were wearing the same exact thing. “Morning pom pom” you greeted back as you gathered your things and started to head towards the garage. You turned around to see bakugou staring into nothing, so you called out. “Hey kat, you coming?” No response. You repeated yourself, but this time loud enough you were sure you woke his dad. He whipped his head towards you and nodded before following along. As you were walking down the hall, you turned to him and asked, “You okay?” while signing your words. Katsuki looked down at your hands and his cheeks started to dust with the lightest shade of pink. He huffed and his red eyes sparked as he just growled out a ‘yeah’ and walked ahead of you into the garage, starting to set up for your session. You yourself had picked up sign language at a young age because your dad was deaf because his quirk was being able to shoot sonic booms from his hands. you pressed the button to open the garage door and let some light in. You then walked over to the speakers and plugged your phone in as you hit play on your playlist specifically for training days. Bakugou stopped setting up the bench press station and yelled, “Can you turn it up? “ as he signed quickly, but then went back to putting the weights together. You turned back to the speaker only to be surprised since the volume was already almost at max capacity. You shook your head and turned the volume all the way up. This session should be interesting.
It was around 9:30 AM at this point and you and Kat had finished weights and went on a 2 mile run. You were currently sitting on the floor stretching your quads as the loud techno music boomed around you. You glanced over at katsuki who was stretching on the other side of the garage and he seemed to be in a whole other universe. You called out to him, but he didn’t do so much as flinch. You picked yourself up off the floor and slowly walked towards him. You called a few more times and still got nothing from him, so you decided to turn off the music. As soon as you did Katsuki’s head shot up and his eyes darted towards you. “What the hell was that for dipshit? We’re gonna start sparring soon, we need it.” He said/yelled at you while you sauntered over to him and took a seat about a foot away from his now steaming body. You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm before talking to katsuki, well you didn’t exactly talk with your voice, you were mostly signing. “Katsuki are you sure you’re okay? You’re not responding when I call out for you.” You waited for his response as his eyes stayed on your hands that were once moving. This time he answered, but for some reason he didn’t sign. “If I tell you, you can’t tell a single soul you hear me dumbass? Not even my parents. “ You nodded your head and gently reach over to squeeze his hand four times, your guys’ way of saying I promise. He then began to talk, and signed very aggressively as he did so, and what he said was enough to shatter you into a million pieces.
“I’ve been struggling in a way lately,” he started, “I tried to cover it up by just yelling all the time hoping people would just think it was my normal behavior. But, really it was so i could he hear myself.” Katsuki let out a long breath and you could see his hands slightly shaking. “It started out last week as just a slight ringing, but it got louder every damn day. But, this week the ringing got quieter, and eventually everything around me started to sound like I was underwater. “ He looked up at you and your breath hitched, tears rolled down katsuki’s face as he held eye contact. He shook out his hands and took another shakey breath before he began, “I- I can barely hear you y/n! And its so frusturating.” the volume of his voice was rising, and you could see the pain he was feeling through his eyes and the tears that were now dripping down to his shirt. “I can’t hear your fucking voice damnit! It’s the only one that doesn’t drive me up fucking walls. it terrifies me!” He was screaming at this point as his hands worked through the air to express his words. The tears came at a much quicker pace once he had stopped to breathe, and those tear turned into sobs as he curled in on himself. He tucked his knees to his chest and ducked his head into his arms as they wrapped around his legs. His shoulders and back shook as he cried, and for a moment you didn’t know what to do. You haven’t seen Katsuki cry since you both were 8 years old and he was playing with his quirk and accidently blasted your arm. He started crying as soon as he heard you wail in pain, and the lecture from his mother didn’t help in the slightest. You subconsciously reached up to rest your hand on the scar as you tried to think of what you could say to him.
Katsuki leveled his head and looked up at you, and slowly reached his hand out, still crying quietly. For a second you didn’t know what he meant, but it soon clicked in your head and you took his hand in yours. you looked at him with teary eyes and signed, “How can i help?” He untucked his legs from his chest and moved closer to you. Then, before you could even register what was happening, Katsuki had his arms around your waist with his head on your shoulder. You froze, it had been quite some time since either of you had needed a hug like this. once your shock had subsided, you brought your hands to rest on his upper back and rubbed soothingly. He began to cry again, which then led to sobs just like they had before. You began to talk, whispering variations of ‘I’m here’ and ‘You don’t have to be scared’, only to remember that he probably can’t hear you. Seeing katsuki as vulnerable as this broke your heart, and single tear fell from your face. Katsuki could feel your jaw muscles moving against the side of his face, so he knew you were talking, but he couldn’t hear you. “I- i- i- I can’t hear! I can’t hear you! Y/n I can’t hear you, fix it please, please I hate this so much!” He screamed into your shoulder which luckily muffled it enough to not draw any attention from the neighbors. He gripped onto your waist tighter as he breathed long and hard breaths. “I’m so scared. I’m terrified of losing you.” He whispered. This had confused you so you gently placed your hands on his shoulders and put a bit of distance between you guys so he could see you signing. “What do you mean you’re gonna lose me? I’m not going anywhere.” You said and waited for his response. He brought his trembling hands up to start signing and began, “I’m scared that if i can’t hear you, I won’t hear you calling me for help when you’re in danger. What kind of hero am I if i can’t even save my best friend?” You took one of his hands in yours and began to sign with your other. “You’re gonna be okay, We’re both gonna get you through this. I know you, and you don’t take shit from no one. And I know damn well you’re not gonna let a little hearing loss get in the way of beating deku.” He laughed slightly at the last statement, and seeing his small smile was like the world coming off of your shoulders. “We’ll take you to the doctor, they’ll help you.” He shook his head at that and his angry glowering returned. “It’s not anything to be embarrassed about. And I’m sure your parents would do anything to help you become the hero you want to be.” You finished your monologue and squeezed his hand four times, promising him you’re not going anywhere. He smiled down at his hand and then brought his other one up to sign, “I love you shithead” and you signed back, “Yeah I know, I love you too Kat”.
He began to stand up and Katsuki pulled you up with him. He immediately pulled you into the tightest bear hug possible. No one knew, but Katsuki was the biggest hugger, and it was your favorite thing about him. You released your arms from his waist and he released his hold around your shoulders. You took the sides on his face in your hands, and pointed to your lips as a signal to read your words. He nodded his head, and in a volume Katsuki couldn’t hear, you said, “I can hear you, I can hear you.”. He nodded and smiled the most genuine smile you’d seen out of him in years. “You ready?” he signed, and you answered “for what?”. He smirked and was quiet for a few seconds before shoving you to the side a little and running off towards your house. “Race you!” he yelled, “First one there, is your mom’s favorite you loser.” Kat called again. You smiled and shook your head as you sprinted off after him, remembering this is the Katsuki that will be the #1 hero someday.
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#mha bakugou#mha#my hero academia#bnha bakugou#bnha#bnha bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakusqaud#bakukiri#bakugou headcanons#bakugou x you#mha headcanons#mha kirishima#mha denki#mha sero#mha mina#mha season 5#mha manga#deafness#deaf character#comfort character
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I had to adress the trauma before they kissed
Part three to Patience, Love!
Douxie x Reader Soulmate AU, fluff, angst. crack if you squint.
《One》 《Two》 | Masterlist
You'd had a few days of unfamiliar band after unfamiliar band and were glad for a taste of home when Papa Skull was up on the itinerary. You two slept in as you had for the past week and had an instant noodle breakfast (the good kind, none of that Maruchan crap Douxie's addicted to) before hitting the town. Dancing, walking, and browsing the streets with their little shops was a fun way to spend the afternoon before you made your way to the venue. You noticed Douxie was being… a little bit more. A little closer, a little softer, a little jittery. You'd had a mind to ask him but he interrupted you every time he saw your curiosity scratching itself on his forearms, running off looking over his shoulder for you to follow. At some point, he'd asked to split up, absolutely not because he wanted to find something for you, or so he said. You spent the whole time he was gone absently searching for something in return, preoccupied with the thoughts on your arms and legs that were just so very Douxie.
"Oh! That's nice! No, no no no, this is your soulmate! Nice isn't great, it's between good and okay. Or would it be between good and alright? Which trumps the other? Blast it all, this store isn't helping," or "This store isn't at ALL what I thought it was... No! Don't think about that, if they see that on their arm I'll be the impatient one!"
You told him where you were after he seemed somewhat satisfied. He walked towards you, the grin on his face falling into a betrayed look of feigned shock as he watched you taking pictures of all the thoughts he'd forgotten you could see. He groaned as he sat beside you on a park bench, seeing just how much you'd read.
"Did I give it away already?"
"All I know is it's somewhere between great and good, or is alright the better word?" you teased.
He bumped your shoulder with his. "Cheeky," he smiled. "Let's head back to the campsite, eat a quick meal, and grab a good spot!"
After a light dinner, you'd managed to squeeze your way fairly close to the front, far enough from the stage to risk being squished. You'd been there a few hours when Papa Skull finally made their appearance, you and Douxie amongst the loudest welcoming them onstage. Not long into their hit song, "Mean", Douxie was nervous.
"I’m gonna do it. I don’t want them to spook..."
You glimpsed his concern on your forearm, unable to make much out in your excitement for the live music, but you knew he was working up to something. You let it be, curious to see what he'd do.
Douxie slowed his breathing. He really liked you so far, and although your mind was quick to dive into the gutter, he didn't want to scare you off. Your own mishap ended in him seeing you once before ghosting for nearly a month. Not to mention, he could tell how embarrassed his little experiments on the boat had made you, what with the whispering and all. It may have been a different kind of embarrassed, more flustered than mortified, but you'd never spoken out against anything. He didn't have a clear grasp of your boundaries. While he'd been searching for a gift for you, he'd wondered how he was going to give it to you. He settled for another first- nothing big, it was pretty cliché, but he enjoyed doing it and hoped you would too.
Douxie placed a hand on your upper arm to make sure you wouldn't startle, it was a bit difficult to get your attention. He slid his arm behind your back, looking to you for confirmation. Your nod made him sigh in relief as he planted his hand on the outside of your shoulder. He felt you laugh and nearly withdrew before you grabbed his hand and pulled so his arm draped over your shoulders, placing your other hand across his back and gently curling your fingers into his waist. You two shared a tender moment of silence before half-turning your attention back to the concert, both too caught up in each other to be in the moment.
He fingered the large box in his sweater pocket, withdrawing his hand. It could wait, he didn't want to risk you moving to look at it, and Mordrax forbid you take your warm hand from his side before he was ready.
Later, you both fell into your sleeping bags with a mighty puff of the air rushing out under the sudden weights, both heaving great sighs of relief. You looked over to him in silence, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. His head turned quickly, smiling wide. Laughter built between you until the pair of you were wiping tears from your eyes, still feeling the euphoria from the concert and one another. Once you relaxed again, Douxie got up and beckoned for you to do the same. You looked at him quizzically.
"If I know I'm hungry then you must be too, I eat less often than you," he reasoned.
Reluctantly, you got up, sad to leave your plush dollar-store sleeping bag. Douxie started the fire while you zipped the tent to swap your themed tour outfit for something more comfortable.
Douxie rustled through the bags back on the ship, pulling out leftovers from the diner in town. He made his way back to the now-blazing fire, sitting on a log to prepare the meal. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the glow of the lantern in the tent--
blimey, was the tent always that sheer? It was night and the lantern made it far too easy to see your silhouette. "Woah, looking away now!" Ah, he saw how appropriate the word "blimey" was in this case. While he did enjoy what he saw, part of him did want God to blind himself because he was 90% sure he'd just watched you remove your top without your knowledge. "God, I tease them constantly, but I'm just as bad, aren't I?" he realized. He quickly went back to warming the food, hands rushed and face pink.
You watched his fault write itself on your torso, cheeks just as flushed, although with a bit more amusement than he was feeling at the moment. You finished and stepped out, a smug look on your face. Wordlessly, you sat next to him, studying his reaction. He avoided your eyes, recognizing the glint they had when his thoughts betrayed him. You slid off the log, reclining against it and making a show of placing your arms behind your head.
"I guess I can't really complain, you are making me dinner first, as per your own terms," you said, nonchalant.
Douxie cursed himself. "How could I have been so bold?" he lamented with a sheepish smile. Time to change the subject. He looked around, searching for anything to talk about, settling on the flames that reminded him of the familiar he missed oh so much. He broke the comfortable silence and turned to you. "Would you like me to show you something?" The nondescript watch on his wrist extended, magical glamour falling to reveal his brace, now glowing with energy.
You nodded eagerly. His magic was comforting and beautiful, just like he was… wait. Why not mess with him a bit?
"One condition."
He withdrew his hands from their position in front of him, face earnest.
"Take off your sweater. I've seen your tattoos under your short sleeves, and I know they glow, wonderboy," you half-demanded. Payback and your own reward in one? You deserved to be a little stern.
He laughed, shrugging off his sweater before putting his hands at the ready once more. With a smile, he pushed and pulled the bonfire from where he sat beside you, flames turning his signature blue the more he manipulated them. It was beautiful, drowning the verdant green of the forest in a blue that belonged only to your soulmate. Douxie reveled in your amazement, fire magic a new experience for a novice such as yourself.
You turned your attention to his tattoos and your lips parted in wonder. You'd never seen them in full, runes you couldn't recognize glowing a vibrant blue. The swooping lines didn't move, but it seemed the light shining through them did, glow rippling below his skin. You slid back onto the log again, closer this time, and brushed your fingers over them. Douxie let the fire swirl to its original shape, goosebumps raising at your feather-light touch. They dimmed, once again their original grey, but you persisted, enthralled by the runes.
Douxie had never loved someone so much. Sure, you'd only known each other a few months, but he felt justified since you were his soulmate. As much as he still couldn't believe he'd met you after all that time, he was more amazed at how often it proved true that you were made to fit one another. Your humor, your joys, your sadness. It made itself apparent in how you walked towards him, the way you smiled when he called you. The comfort in your voice that he could feel through the phone. Your eyes. Oh, your eyes, how they did things to his heart.
He pulled himself from his thoughts, eyes roving over your body intently, latching onto any exposed skin. He was looking in pride at his thoughts of admiration, feeling almost as if they marked you as his. "A reminder," he thought, that right now, you belonged to one another. He brought his gaze back to those eyes of yours, now studying his face. The two of you looked at one another in silence, watching one another's eyes flick down and back again, faces drawing closer. His tongue darted out to moisten his slightly chapped lip, causing your breath to hitch. His heart jumped at the sound, snapping him from his daze. He gently lifted your hand from his bicep, shakily breathing the same air as you. He folded your fingers into his chill grasp, bringing them to his lips and pressing a long kiss to your knuckles before bowing his head to press your hand to his brow. You smiled, heart beating from your chest, then grabbed his sweater from between you two with your free hand and sliding it up to his back and over a shoulder. He slowly released your hand with a small chuckle, twirling the garment from his shoulders and placing it on your own. His hands dragged down to the beginning of the zipper and tugged it forward to secure it on your body, pulling you just that much closer. He lingered, smiling gently at you. This. This was a moment he hoped would never end.
His long fingers withdrew to finally warm the food, the 'almost' of what had just happened filling the comfortable silence of the forest clearing.
It'd been a few days since the Almost (your affectionate lament for the kiss that nearly was), and the tour was nearly over. Only a few days were left and you weren't ready for it to end. Maybe after this you and Douxie could spend more time at one another's flats, just to have each other around. Your home was your sanctuary, and you were already fully prepared to open it to him. You trusted him and were happy you'd ironed out your initial issues. For the most part, that is.
"What's this, Y/N?" Douxie asked. You were taken from your thoughts by his sudden question and gave him a puzzled look. He gestured to the 'trust issue' statement written boldly across his bare shoulder before going to sit next to you, the distance between you feeling like an emotional chasm. He used to sit closer before the Almost. "Is something the matter? Did I do something to make you cross?" His face was less puzzled now and more anxious.
"Well," you began, "It's nothing recent. Maybe it is? I keep dwelling on the past, and I feel I need to bring it up."
"Go for it, darling, anything you need," he rushed, turning his entire body to face you.
"I've been running most of my life, as is the curse of an immortal, but I’ve spent the last sixteen years of it searching for you. I kept asking you questions, trying to find you. As amusing as it was to play cat and mouse, I felt displaced and restless. Friends came and went, I scoured America in its entirety. A hint, a clue, something!" You rushed, breathing ragged. "Arcadia was my resignation, you know," you continued, quieter now. "I've stayed as long as I have because I gave up, too tired to keep running towards something, no matter how much I wanted it. No matter how much I wanted you, I--" your eyes filled with tears and you paused, choking on a sob. You sucked in a breath. He needed to hear this. *You* needed him to hear this. "It hurt when I realized you didn't remember our fleeting moments together in combat. I enjoyed sharing that moment of revealing ourselves to one another, but it hurts that I've chased that beautiful blue for the past eight centuries and you don't remember those two years of patrolling the canals.”
Douxie placed a hesitant hand on the small of your back and his eyes dropped from your face to the forest floor, remembering why he'd been so excited to meet you. He'd seen your reactions to his thoughts back in Italy but quickly had to move on. He and Archie had decided long ago that no matter what, they'd put Merlin's tasks above anything else. Even his soulmate. When he realized how close you were he got excited. He couldn't search for you, but he didn't see anything wrong if you found him first. Even then, he kept you at arm's length, scared of the consequences. Merlin's tower, how could he have been so thoughtless? Douxie had never stopped to consider how his constant moving around would affect you. He never took the concepts of soulmates all that seriously. Sure, he could daydream about being with someone made for him and refuse to date anyone until he met you, but it became real the night he found you. Too real. So he ran. Dancing around you, pretending he was doing you a favor with his vague answers and puzzling riddles. Then, he met you again. You were real once more. After his comical encounter with you, he was too preoccupied to sleep, absorbing the finality of having a soulmate. You had come into his life with a bang, a reminder that Merlin and his tasks didn't define who he was. What had shaped him were small influences of the people he'd met throughout the last millennium, including you.
You were worried. Douxie's brow was more creased than you'd ever seen it. His hand on your back grew clammy, the cold night air quickly cooling the fresh damp patch of your shirt.
"...Douxie?" you whispered, afraid your rant had gone too far. His head turned just a little too quickly and you gasped at the tears glistening in the moonlight. He choked on a few unsteady breaths, mouth half-forming words. You reached your hand for the bicep of the arm loosely wrapped around your waist, but before you could touch it, he spoke.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, drawing his hand away from your torso. The first of many large tears burst upon the wood of the log you sat upon. Whose tears they were no longer mattered when both of you began crying anew. You wrapped your fingers around the arm he removed from your side and placed it there once more, throwing your arms around his middle. He sobbed at this, heart happy that you still accepted him, and brought his other hand to clutch your head to his collarbone. He wasn't running anymore, he'd done what was asked of him and was finally able to let you catch up to him.
The two of you were too caught up in one another to notice but had either of you been paying attention, you would have seen each other's skin being adorned with countless words of adoration, regret, and joy.
#patience love#douxie x reader#toa douxie x reader#hisirdoux casperan x reader#too many commas#like WAY too many#not betaread#casual fic writing lmao im working on more polished pieces#x reader#toa x reader#toa wizards#idk how to tag things#furblewrites#I SWEAR THEY KISS NEXT BIT
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self indulgent headcanons hours
i started this as a fic but it was too hard to write so headcanon time!!
the headcanon in question?
sunset curve/julie/flynn/carrie/willie going to rep tour
here i go on my bullshit lol n e ways some context, modern au set in 2018 but they’re all still 15-17, carrie and bobby are twins, trevor is their rich uncle who took them in for some reason, no one is dead and everyone is gay, that is all
(and by everyone is gay i mean biromantic ace!bobby, lesbian!carrie, pan!luke, bi!reggie, bi!julie, lesbian!flynn and obviously alex and willie are gay)
also alex and willie are dating, carrie, flynn and julie are dating and luke, reggie and bobby are dating, thats all
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- so carrie 100% bought the tickets (using trevor’s credit card of course) and then just told everyone that they were going (much to flynn’s annoyance, she strongly dislikes taylor swift)
- julie didn’t really mind, theres a few taylor swift songs that she quite likes and she’s not gonna turn down a free concert or time with her girlfriends and band mates
- alex and reggie were over the moon in excitement, jumping up and down together (luke, bobby and willie were also very excited, just more cool about it)
- on that note no one can convince me that all four members of sunset curve would not be swifties
alex is a speak now stan
reggie is a debut stan
luke would stan her songwriting abilities so hard
and bobby would claim that he's a rep stan but would 100% be a secret 1989 stan
- finally the day of the concert comes and alex “borrows” his mum’s van to get them all to the concert
- carrie would have organised costumes and makeup, flynn would refuse to dress up and julie would just prefer to wear one of her mum’s old outfits, which worked perfectly cause then there were 6 people left for the 6 albums, one era for each person
- reggie was debut era, and he had jumped at the chance to wear a sundress and boots
willie was fearless, and carrie had curled his hair into the tight ringlets and had found a glittery gold crop top to wear with some jeans
alex was speak now, with a replica of the purple tour dress and a glittery purple fanny pack instead of his classic black one
luke was red, and he was wearing a red era merch shirt that he had cut the sleeves off, and carrie had convinced him to wear a pair of high waisted shorts with it
carrie was 1989, wearing the classic shake it off cheerleader costume
and bobby was rep, with reggie’s leather jacket and torn jeans with fishnets underneath, and a tight glittery black shirt
(also if anyone can draw and wants to draw this PLEASE !!!!)
- the whole trip there would be spent blasting reputation and singing along, and even flynn gets a little bit into it
- they would arrive and head straight for merch and the taylor nation booth and then once they were ready they would head inside to the arena
- of course carrie would have gotten them the best tickets possible, so they end up right down the front in the snake pit (VIP of course) and they would spend the preshow singing and talking about how excited they were
- finally after the opening acts it was time for the show to start, and the second that the lights go down they all start screaming (i can just imagine sunset curve excitedly grabbing onto each other screaming while julie and flynn just watch them with a smile)
- they would have the time of their lives screaming every single word and dancing like no one was watching
- and even flynn sings along to love story and you belong with me
- alex boldly dedicating dress to willie who just stands there wide eyed cause he never thought alex would be so bold (bonus of all of their friends watching on like 👁️👄👁️)
- reggie getting his fucking LIFE during should’ve said no and luke and bobby just looking at him with these lovestruck looks cause yep thats their boyfriend and they love him
- the boys crying though this is why we cant have nice things cause they know that its the last song and they dont want the show to be over
- of course they all collect massive handfuls of the newspaper confetti
- and carrie asking a security guard to take a photo of the eight of them together with the stage in the background
- the drive home with them all just chattering away excitedly about the show and their favourite parts, and alex pulling into the mcdonalds drive through to get them something to eat and drink
- and then finally they get back to bobby and carrie’s house where they’re all having a sleepover, and they end up all falling asleep in a massive cuddle pile in carrie’s king sized bed (they most definitely did not fit but none of them cared about how cramped it was)
#sunset curve#julie and the phantoms#headcanon#luke patterson#alex mercer#reggie peters#bobby wilson#carrie wilson#julie molina#flynn nolastname#willie nolastname#jatp#willex#julie x carrie x flynn#rebuke#jatp swifties
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𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, one-shot
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.7k
𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐨𝐧: Ao3, Wattpad
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: post-time skip, aged-up characters, implied/referenced sex, sensitive topics(?)
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is a kind of “interactive” one-shot. At some point, you’ll find the link for the playlist I’ve created for the story. It’s not mandatory, of course. The songs are mentioned and their lyrics are quoted anyways.
I tried to keep the reader as gender-neutral as possible, I hope it works.
To be honest, I wrote the first half of this one-shot at 3 am after a very deep conversation with a friend of mine about struggling with self-love as “young adults”. It wasn’t meant to be public but I felt like sharing it. I hope this will help or at least cheer you up as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Lastly, italics when Daichi sings/for the lyrics and English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!
Thanks for reading this,
Laurelle.
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Taxes, laundry, rent, bills, grocery shopping, bank accounts, job interviews. These were just some of the things whose thought alone made you already shiver. Adulthood and the multiple responsibilities that had come with it scared the shit out of you, at times it completely fucked up your sleep schedule, and put your sanity at stake, but at least you weren’t alone in this. At least, you had Daichi.
You two had faced college together, one at each other’s side, and now you were again together in that new chapter of your life called adulthood.
By then, you two had been living in that little, yet cozy apartment for a few months. The Karasuno team had lent you a hand by making the move less hard, unpacking boxes and decorating the empty shelves with an unnecessary amount of frames, random objects, and souvenirs from their trips. All of this as Daichi was training at your hometown’s Police Department and as you were trying to find your place in the world, between part-time jobs and “real” job interviews.
The new routine was dull, draining, at times even overwhelming. The closer you were getting to make your dream life come true, the more your daily life felt like a nightmare. The more you felt tired, unmotivated, ultimately empty. And you couldn't help but wonder if that was really worth it anymore.
You started to slowly give up on your hobbies and passions, to spend your free time on the new couch, just spacing out, and to eventually forget about yourself. You didn’t want to sound too pathetic but life seemed to have lost its flavor. At that point, it just tasted like disinfectants and instant noodles.
Those fucking instant noodles … You thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror that evening. None of your planned outfits for that night fitted anymore, none, and at the sudden realization, that familiar smell of instant noodles rose inside your nostrils. But instant noodles weren’t really the point. Your outfits not fitting anymore wasn’t the point either. That you in that mirror was the point. That stranger. That empty shell.
The familiar boomy sound of keys twisting inside the front door’s lock, a click, and Daichi was finally home.
“I’m baaack” You heard him say - almost yell - and then saw him coming inside the kitchen to greet you.
“May I have a kiss?” He shyly asked, placing his hand on the small of your back, drawing little circles to get your attention.
“Sure,” You turned your head for a quick, soft peck on his lips, then got back to your chore.
“Still in your PJs, babe?” He commented, his voice small, clearly weakened by his long, draining day at work.
By that time, you were supposed to be ready to head out, but something in the process went wrong. On the other side of the city, a nice restaurant - highly suggested by Michimiya sometime before - was waiting for you and Daichi to arrive in twenty minutes.
“Yeah… I have to finish cooking these for tomorrow before we head out…” You murmured as your words fell down to the pot beneath you.
That wasn’t a lie, but in all fairness, you were only trying to avoid the truth. Little did you know you were about to experience what living with a future detective really meant.
Besides his professional deformation, when it came to you, Daichi never failed to sense when something was off. Even just from a slight change of your tone. He was so used to your voice that the most insignificant variation of its sound seemed to conceal a tiny, secret message only for him to decipher.
Anyways, you kept looking down, your mind somewhere else, your eyes still lost in the little fog coming from the pot. You still didn’t dare to look at him, which was rather unusual. Strange. Kind of suspicious.
Daichi rocked his head in your direction, trying to find other tangible clues for that particular case he wasn’t expecting to face once at home. Yet nothing was really out of place, except that gloomy aura all around you. Therefore, he decided to just play it cool for the moment and let you be.
Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe he was just being paranoid. The only thing that really mattered was that night to be perfect for both of you.
It wasn’t a special occasion or else, just Daichi’s first free evening after a whole month of night shifts. And in addition to that, that dinner had been meticulously planned the previous week. Nothing could have ruined it. Nothing.
Yeah, he was just being paranoid, for sure. Nothing to worry about.
Daichi moved away from you and walked towards the front door again. Then, he plugged his phone on the little speaker at the entrance and played the playlist you two loved to blast whenever you were at home, cleaning the house, or just swinging from a room to another.
And that was when everything got even more suspicious in Daichi’s perspective.
The first song came on (“Come Through and Chill” by Miguel, J.Cole, Salaam Remi ), the little bass drums slowly filling the room, vibrating from wall to wall, gradually reaching your feet through that old wooden pavement. And yet, you stayed completely still.
Suspicious .
“Everything ok?” He casually asked you from a distance, putting the phone back down on top of the speaker.
“Yeah, good, good. You?” You mumbled, trying to hide your words under the rhythm.
Even more suspicious .
It wasn’t only your voice, but your posture, your face, just your aura that seemed so… Different. Even though you two hadn’t been living together for long at that point, he could simply tell what looked ordinary and what not. You knew each other and dated since college, which at that point meant years of studying the other up close, not only as partners but firstly - and mainly - as friends. Two best friends always looking out for one another. Those had been years of sincere trust and affection.
Funny thing was that neither of you could imagine that a casual encounter in a cafè would have taken that turn. But Suga knew. And Asahi too. Everybody knew, except you two.
One morning, the vending machine of your department was out of order, and that was just the tenth curveball of that day. It’s not even thirty past eight and I already want to go back to sleep , you sighed, walking outside the campus, looking for a cafè or something.
As fate would have it, the tiny, little-known coffee shop you found right behind the corner was Asahi’s workplace, which brought both Suga and Daichi to have their breakfast there every single morning.
Your first time there, your order was mistaken with Daichi’s, one thing led to another, and after a while, you two started hanging out frequently. Then even more consistently. Then no Asahi or Suga around. No coffee shop. Study sessions at his place. Then at your place. A movie night that actually looked and felt like a proper date. And eventually, that friendship blossomed into something else, something pretty serious.
You didn’t even realize when or how that happened, it just felt right. You two didn’t even have a real “date” for when your relationship had begun. For the sake of simplicity, you both used to count from your first kiss, both aware that whatever you two shared had started even before that, even that morning in that tiny, little-known coffee shop.
That was the type of love that comes easily, without warning, silently tiptoeing into your life.
Back in your apartment, once freed from his jacket, Daichi made again his appearance at your side, now wearing a playful look and about to hit his favorite line of the lyrics. He almost made you startle.
“Hello, stranger… It's been a minute since we last kicked it” He sang and swung around you, positioning himself right behind you to wrap you in a warm hug. Then, gingerly nestling his head in the curve of your neck, he breathed against your skin, “Now that I’m home, I’m all good… ”
Bear hugs were Daichi’s thing and also your not-so-secret Achilles’ heel, for sure. So, you just leaned in his embrace and welcomed his familiar, calming scent. But still, you didn’t have the courage to face him.
Very, very suspicious .
Your oddly detached behaviors made his brow pinch and his mind wander as he left soft pecks all over your jaw and neck. No reaction , Daichi thought, taking mental notes of your actions.
At that point, he gave you one last, gentle kiss, this time on your shoulder, right where the hem of your shirt met your skin, and then silently made a step back. Daichi’s first thought was to temporarily let you be. A quick shower and a change of clothes were very much needed after that long day. He thought he still got time to unravel your mood.
Still focused on the pot, you heard him tell you, before disappearing in your bedroom, “I’ve been thinking about tonight all day, love. I literally can’t wait to try this restaurant!”
You felt a knot in your stomach.
Why was it so hard for you to simply tell him? To simply put into words how you felt? You knew he would have understood, you knew how sensitive Daichi was, especially when it came to you. But to look so needy, so lost in his eyes made you feel just weak. Not vulnerable, not emotional, just a weak person in need. And the last thing you wanted was to look or feel like a burden to Daichi. You knew how stressed and overworked he was. That was a pretty tough period for you both and you felt like you had no right to complain. Daichi never did, and all you wanted was to be as strong as he was.
It didn’t take much for Daichi to be ready, all cleaned up and dressed for the occasion. Nothing too elegant or pretentious, he was a very casual type of guy even when it came to clothes, but that was still your night. A little more effort won’t hurt , he thought as he picked his outfit, preferring a classic, white, button-up shirt to his favorite sweater - his safe choice whenever he didn’t know what to wear.
He just wanted to look good that night, to look good for your eyes only.
Right when “Sunflower” by Post Malone and Swae Lee started, Daichi’s unmistakable cologne stood above the food’s thick smell coming from the pot. You immediately turned around.
He looked handsome, as always. The view made your belly twitch again.
“Hey hon, remember that time we went to see Spiderman with Suga, Asahi, and Kyoko?” He started to speak, crossing the room with slow strides in your direction.
“You fell in love with this song on the spot. Oh my god, I think you blasted it in the car at least ten times on our way back...” He said wrapping his arms around your waist again, making you turn and trying to initiate a slow dance with you.
“I know you’re scared of the unknown, you don’t wanna be alone” He sang, “I know I always come and go,” The lyrics hitting way too close to home, “But it’s out of my control”
At that point, he held you tight, roaming his big, callous hands all over your back as he glanced at the pot from above your shoulder.
“That looks delicious, babe. Can’t wait to eat it tomorrow. I just know it tastes as good as it looks…”
There he was again, being all supportive and loving no matter what. So damn cheesy, he could have made someone sick. But not you.
You weren’t much of a chef yourself and you knew it, but you tried your best. And Daichi appreciated it a lot. He was so proud of you, always so blindly proud. He was undoubtedly a better chef than you were, but he still left you space to experiment and try out new things.
You never thought you could enjoy cooking that much, but probably Daichi being a foodie played a role in that. A foodie, well, possibly the biggest foodie you knew. The thought alone of food could make him insane, let’s say slightly irrational like he wasn’t functioning normally.
That was at the beginning when you both had all the time in the world to even plan a food competition and invite all your friends over to eat and vote for your plates. In the beginning, when that apartment’s walls were still white and bare, when the only furniture you owned was an old red couch and several boxes with all your things still packed inside. In the beginning, when there were way fewer things to care about in your daily routine.
“It’s ready, I guess. I should turn off the stove… ” You mumbled against his chest, then turned around still sweetly trapped in his embrace.
“Then you’re left in the dust… mhmhIdon’trememberthewordsmm” He kept singing behind your back, “ You’re the sunflower, I think your love would be too-”
When the little flame disappeared under the pot, a sharp sigh accidentally left your mouth.
“Daichi…” You breathed, squeezing his right hand still gently pressed on your belly.
Daichi .
You rarely called him by his first name. You’d usually go with “love” or “babe” or whatever sweet name came into your mind at that specific moment. Daichi . “Daichi” was something like a safeword, a code for “I’m dead serious right now”, “Your mum is calling” or, like this time, “Something is wrong”.
At that signal, the Karasuno’s former captain knew exactly what to do as if a ball had just flown past an invisible volleyball net right in front of him. That was just the confirmation he needed to make his move.
Living together, making a long-term relationship works, sticking together regardless, all of these for you both were based on the little things you started to learn about one another. Most of the time failing but never giving up on the other person. And this, this was one of those “little things”.
Daichi .
Wordlessly, he went straight to his phone and turned down the music at its lowest, the songs just a light, almost unperceivable background. You turned in his direction, watching him attentively, in silence, until he beckoned you to follow him.
You did as told and walked with him towards the living room, where he guided you to sit on the couch, your right hand gently secured in his.
He sat down on his heels, right in front of you, and waited, waited for you to say something, giving you all the time you needed to process your thoughts.
Minutes passed, the music still softly playing in the background.
Spendin' all my nights alone, waitin' for you to call me
You're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep
Tell me what I'm waitin' for
Tell me what I'm waitin' for
I know it's hard but we need each other
(“SUGAR” by BROCKHAMPTON)
When you lifted your gaze to meet his sweet eyes, like two big, dark chocolate nuggets, you still didn’t know what to say. Automatically, his lips parted to catch your attention.
“Love,” His voice so tender it literally broke your heart to keep that facade any longer.
Your lips puckered, your nostrils widened, your eyes got unexpectedly watery until the first of many tears started to run down your face. When your head fell forwards, hiding between your hands, Daichi immediately got you. His arms circled your frame, welcoming you against his chest as you kept weeping noisily.
Daichi stayed silent, his head pressed against your shoulder, moving in sync with each of your sobs.
“Let it out, babe, don’t hold it back.”
At those words, your weeps only seemed to get worse to the point you didn’t know anymore why you were crying in the first place. Maybe you just needed to let it out, to rest, and let yourself get lost in Daichi’s embrace. His warmth felt like home and it was so comforting that after a while you finally cooled down. Nothing was wrong anymore, you were safe and sound.
“When you’re ready, I’m here to listen.” He whispered.
You nodded against his skin, then drew back, revealing your puffed and reddish face. He immediately stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Once back, he kneeled again in front of you and handed you tissues and a glass of water.
“Thanks,” You murmured and then blew your nose.
Daichi just stared at you, his eyes wandering all over your figure as you shrugged and sighed. You opened your mouth only to close it a second later. You didn’t even know where to start. Your bottom lip quivered, you felt like you’re about to cry again.
“What’s going on, love?” His voice small and tender.
You sighed again and gave a quick look to the clock behind him. It was almost time to leave. Actually, at that point, you were already late. Your eyes found his again and a thought occurred to you. He looked so happy until a moment before, singing and dancing, all dressed up, ready to leave and try that restaurant. But now there he was, all worried for you, down on his knees, not caring if that position was messing and creasing his shirt.
“It’s really nothing. Just had a bad day. I should go get-” You tried to stand up, but Daichi’s hands stopped you right there, pinning you down again.
“Are you sure, that’s just it?”
You couldn’t physically bring yourself to lie to Daichi. Not even for the smallest things. Not even for a white lie.
“To be honest, I don’t really feel like going out tonight…”
His eyebrows twitched. First clue unlocked.
“That’s fine. Let me just give them a call-”
“No, no. There’s no need. We should go anyway. It’s really nothing.”
Daichi was never really fond of you being difficult, he’d rather prefer you being straightforward. But sometimes, your pride overtook you. Nevertheless, that was not the right time to point out you were being too stubborn, so he just reassured you, saying,
“Listen, it’s up to you, babe. Your wish is my command, you know that, right?”
Daichi was always so kind. From time to time, you even believed he was way too good for you. Too good, it’s almost unfair , you thought.
“Really, it’s nothing… I’ve been thinking about tonight all day too. I couldn’t wait to finally spend some time with you…”
He giggled, your sweet tone instantly reassured him, “You know we can always stay at home and just watch a movie, right? Just tell me if you don’t feel like going out and I’ll call the restaurant right away.”
“Well, it’s not that… I… I…” You sighed. You really were being too difficult that time. “To be honest, I don’t know what-” Your voice cracked, “I really don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Daichi leaned closer and kissed your forehead, then stood up and grabbed his phone. From a distance you clearly heard him talk to someone, apologizing and saying something else you didn’t quite catch. The restaurant , you thought. You instantly walked towards him and tried to oppose, but Daichi politely hushed you and just hung up.
“Why did you do that?” You asked him.
“Cause it seems like you can’t decide right now. The restaurant can wait, really, but whatever is going on with you cannot. And now, if you want to tell me more about it I’m here, if not I’ll just let you be, or if-”
You grabbed his hands, stopping him. Your head swung from side to side as you collected your thoughts.
“It’s just that… I don’t know where to start.” You said and plopped yourself down on the couch.
He softly asked you when that started, if you remembered what little event had possibly triggered your current mood, and suddenly the right words found their way out of your mouth.
It had just been one of those everything-goes-wrong kinds of days, no rest, and too many things to do that eventually you found yourself already in front of the closet without even realizing it. Your eyes were drained and unfocused after all those hours in front of your laptop, working, sending emails, and stuff like that. Your stomach was aching and bloating after eating the previous night’s leftovers. Your legs were sore. Your mind was blank, empty, and at the same time also full of imprecise thoughts about work, what you needed to do before heading out, the dinner, the clothes, that mirror right in front of you.
You described to him this confused overwhelming sensation you had been experiencing for the previous months and all along Daichi was carefully listening to you, nodding and humming. From time to time he tried to comfort you, saying that it was quite understandable since you both started a new, complicated chapter of your lives since there were so many things to be settled and done, etc. He even apologized if he had accidentally neglected you in some way. He was so stressed and focused on work, he barely noticed what was going on with you. But you didn’t seem to listen to his words. Every single time you just replied with the same anxious thoughts you had already said before.
At some point, Daichi interrupted you, saying, “Babe, look at me and be honest,” then grabbed your hands and looked straight into your still reddish eyes, “Do you want me to listen … Or do you want some advice ?”
That was a thing Daichi had learned with time, not only from you but also from his experience as a captain. Sometimes people just need to vent, some other times to be taken by the hand and helped, but there are also other times when people may even need both.
You sighed. “Both I guess?”
He hummed and kept listening at other incoherent stuff you mumbled next about yourself, your image, your perception of yourself, “And that damn outfit! I’ve been thinking about it all day! It was my only option and it didn’t work! I looked terrible, I could barely stand my reflection in the mirror… Why do I have to feel so miserable about a damn outfit?! And then I put my PJ back on and I thought I looked like a fucking cartoon! I wanted to hide under a blanket and just disappear… I must sound delusional right now…”
New clues unlocked.
“No, absolutely, you’re not delusional, love. But... Let me ask you this. What is really bothering you? How you look or how you feel ?”
You tilted your head and pondered his question. At that moment you realized you had never thought about it that way before. How I look or how I feel… , you kept thinking for a while.
However, you still weren’t able to unravel that truth, therefore you just kept rumbling about those stupid clothes not fitting you anymore for another solid couple of minutes.
Daichi chuckled.
“That just means you need to do more shopping, babe,” He pointed out and leaned in to pepper your neck with soft kisses. You couldn’t help but giggle as his kisses alternated with random names of your favorite shops where you two could have gone to the next day to buy something. But eventually, you lightly pushed him away, not because you really wanted to but... Something wasn’t still quite right and you didn’t know what it was. That made you feel ultimately uneasy.
Daichi drew back on his heels, his hands still on your sides, sweetly caressing your hips. He stayed there and just contemplated you as your mind spun around and other vague thoughts piled up in your head.
“So, is there something else?” He softly asked.
“I guess so… It’s not about the clothes. I think it’s me. I look so different and I feel so different, I can barely recognize myself.”
“Love, you have so many things to do, I know it’s hard to find time for you to eat clean or be active. Maybe I should propose less pizza and stuff—”
“No, no, babe, it’s not you... I just feel awful about myself.”
“You feel , but you’re definitely not. I guarantee you that.” Daichi immediately comforted you.
“You know the saying, love is blind…” You tried to joke around.
“It sure is. I could love you with my eyes closed, but even with my eyes wide open, I can’t see anything wrong with you.”
Daichi’s love confessions were sappy at their core, but his voice was always so direct and honest they always sounded like facts. And they never failed to catch you off guard. Daichi used to be shy and awkward in the beginning of your relationship. He was constantly blushing hard and messing with his sentences whenever it came to talk to you. However, with time, his affection and ways started to be so sincere and straightforward you didn’t even know how to contradict him or how to even say anything back.
“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes…” His tone suddenly painted with melancholy, “Then you could see how beautiful you are, how precious, how…” He felt it too. He felt he was getting too emotional, so he tried to take the edge off, coming back to his goofy side. “No, no. Rewind. You might end up dumping me. Nah nah, not gonna happen!” He muffled, hiding his head against your belly, curling up with his torso over your lap.
You couldn’t help but laugh. You loved him so much.
“Jokes aside,” He said, lifting his head and looking up at you. “Tell me, babe, is this really such a big deal? Because if it bothers you to this point, you should think about it more carefully... Can I help you in some way?”
“Honestly, I-I don’t know how you could help me,” You confessed, “I feel like I’m not taking care of myself, but I also lack motivation to actually do something about it. It’s a dog chasing its own tail, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I get it… Well, I could encourage you, first. But then I could also help you and try to do things with you, like…” He thought about it for a couple of seconds. “What if I call Tanaka? He's a personal trainer but he also knows a lot about nutrition. He may suggest something delicious but fast and healthy for us to cook. It could be beneficial for both of us. We have been literally eating our stress away recently. You know what, I feel bloated too…” Daichi added and then proceeded to touch his tummy.
You lightly pushed him again and started to shower him with compliments. You couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that Daichi could ever possibly be insecure about himself. He was… Daichi. He was just perfect.
He smirked at your reaction and got closer to shut your mouth with a sudden, deep kiss.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispered, just an inch away from your lips.
“Sure, what is it?” You said almost laughing. A secret?
“Ok, look at my pants,” Daichi said, drawing back until he stood up, right in front of you.
“Yeah, I’m looking at them and they look really good on you-” You started to say and tried to make him spin around to point out how good he looked in those dark pants. That was actually your favorite pair, you loved the way they highlighted his muscular legs, how- But he stopped you right there.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ok, thanks, but have you noticed that I’m not wearing any belt? And actually haven’t worn one in a while?”
You frowned. Where is he getting at?
“And you know why? I don’t really need one anymore. These pants stay up regardless,” Daichi confessed, giggling, “What I mean is… Look, you still like how they fit me. I still like how they fit me. I just know that you would like them even in another size. I would like them as well.”
You just stared at him, quietly pondering his words.
“Anyways, the pants are not the real point. These are just pants. Those things that didn’t fit you aren’t the real point either. You see what I’m trying to tell you?”
You did. You got what he meant, but you were still doubting yourself somehow. Because, in your mind, not fitting your old clothes was just the result of something that slipped out of your hands as you struggled to take care of anything else, except yourself. It wasn’t about your weight or the clothes, it was about losing track of yourself in the process.
“You think I’m perfect while I may, well, I am certainly not. Same goes for you. None of us is perfect, never been, never will. We are just us,” He got closer and sweetly brushed your hair behind your ears, “But for me, in my eyes, you are. And apparently, I’m too in yours. And that’s all that matters.”
Again, just straight facts.
Also, whenever he gave you one of his motivational speeches, he really looked like a captain. You could vividly picture the scene in your head, his teammates carefully listening to him, hanging off his words, right before an important match or even just a regular training session.
“I know it’s extremely cheesy to hear, but it’s also the truth. You’re perfect just the way you are and you’ll always be to me…” His voice small as he kneeled again in front of you. “Even now. Even if you feel lost. The you you’re looking for is still there, it’s not going anywhere. You just need some time and patience to find yourself again.”
You immediately cupped his face, about to tell him something, but before you could spell a single word, he whispered,
“But… But if this is a problem, something you want to change or improve, something you need some help with, then let’s do it, let’s do it together. No. Better. Let’s do it right now!”
Daichi immediately stood up and ran back to the kitchen, where you used to keep your little notebook. Once back, armed with a pen and unmovable willpower, he sat down again and opened the agenda on your lap. Going through your schedule, he noticed how packed it was, pages and pages filled with appointments and notes, but that didn’t scare him.
“Mmm… So, here’s the plan. Our lunch breaks on Monday and Friday look pretty long. We could… Meet at the park. You know, the one right after the supermarket, down the street-”
You nodded, showing him you were following him.
“We could jog a little and then eat something together! That way we’d see each other, have some fun and do something good for our health too… I know jogging doesn’t actually sound much fun, but I swear we’ll have a good time, babe. What do you think?”
Your lips curled upwards into a soft, little half-moon. You couldn’t say no to that.
“Sounds like a plan…” You simply commented.
He looked relieved and then added, “Also, remember that lunch at my mum’s next Sunday? Why don’t we just skip it and go somewhere fancy, like a spa-”
“But we promised-” You tried to object.
“Babe, I know, I know, but we can go some other time. She’ll understand.”
“Okay…”
“It’ll be beneficial for both of us, for real. To be honest, I think I’m this close to a breakdown too,” He laughed.
“You’re right, we should definitely go… You know, I was also thinking about joining some sort of club. I feel like I don't have a hobby or a passion anymore. It’s always work, work, work, the apartment, work, work, work. I feel so… Arid? Mentally. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah… Me too, I was thinking the same exact thing this morning actually… Maybe I should join a volleyball team again. Nothing serious but like a team to play with, just once in a while-”
Your eyes widened, “Oh God! Yes! Absolutely! You should definitely do that, love!”
Daichi nervously chuckled. He wasn’t expecting such an enthusiastic and energetic reaction from you, not after having seen you so blue and distant since he had come back home.
You loved seeing him playing volleyball. You still remembered vividly the times you used to sneak a peek at his practice and matches during college. The first time you saw him playing, all sweat and absorbed in the game, you did a double-take. He looked so hot.
“Alrighty, I’ll definitely think about it… Don’t worry, love, we’ll figure something out.”
“As we always did…” You added, shyly smiling at him.
That situation made you wonder. Life could be hard at times, but if you had the right people around you to rely on, to fight with, or simply talk to, it didn’t seem like that tough anymore.
“Yeah…” He smiled back and instinctively leaned forward to hug you tightly as you welcomed his frame against your chest.
After a few silent minutes, you muffled against his shoulder, “Thank you… I don’t even know how to tell you how thankful I am right now… ”
And in all fairness, there wasn’t much else to add.
“You could start by being less hard on yourself, love,” Daichi said, still pressed against you, “You’re doing so great…”
“You’re way too good to me.” You murmured back, your voice slightly above a whisper.
At your words, he brushed his head from side to side against your shoulder, silently disagreeing with your affirmation. He was just as good to you as you deserved.
Right at that moment, “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar and H.E.R. came on and Daichi thought that there couldn't have been a better time than that for that specific song to start.
He drew back from your hug and guided you to stand up with him, then walked backward to reach the center of the living room, his eyes still fixed on you.
“Siri, turn up the volume!” He ordered his phone to do as he took you in his arms.
You simply stared at him and followed his actions, like a puppet under his spell. His arms welcomed your figure and your fingers locked, your two bodies perfectly molded one against the other as you slow-danced to the rhythm, allowing yourself to utterly enjoy that moment.
A strange feeling warmed your belly, like an overwhelming wave of happiness was overtaking all your senses. Your mouth instinctively opened to shower Daichi with random compliments, words of gratitude, and all sorts of sweet nothings. He loved to be praised by you but after a while he tried to playfully hush you, holding you even tighter and whispered next to your ear a line of that song that seemed to be written right for you. Better, right for him to sing it for you.
“I just wanna see how beautiful you are, you know that I see it, I know you're a star. Where you go I follow, no matter how far. If life is a movie, oh you're the best part…”
The music eventually faded and an hour later you and Daichi were once again in your bed, curled up in your sheets, as you leafed through Netflix’s catalog, fruitlessly. In the end, you just end up cuddling and ultimately dozing off. Nothing special had happened that night, but you felt so restored, at peace, as if everything was completely fine again.
When you woke up the morning after, Daichi was already gone. You were used to this too. No night shifts meant early shifts. But this also had its perks, like the tiny heart-shaped post-it notes he liked to leave in the bathroom for you to read them as you washed your face or brushed your teeth. The breakfast? Ready on the kitchen counter, another post-it note on top of it. And then another one, on the front door, “I can’t wait to see you at lunch <3”
At noon, you two met up at the park as planned. A little warm-up under Daichi’s careful instructions and then you were ready to start. Just a casual jog, nothing too demanding, as you enjoyed the fresh air and the good company of that day.
During the whole run, Daichi kept encouraging you like a real captain and a loyal partner would do, saying that you were doing great, that you looked very good in those leggings, that you were half done at that point, and then that you could do it, you were almost at the end at that point.
“The last lap, babe! We’re almost done!” Daichi shouted, turned his head in your direction, and gave you a wide, shining smile.
“I-I think I’m done for today…” You panted as you struggled to keep up with his pace.
“Six more minutes and we’re done! C’mon! Don’t give up!” He incited but you soon waved the white flag, signaling him your surrender.
Daichi halted and got closer to you. A strange, gloomy aura suddenly spread all around him. A mischievous grin appeared on his face right when he whispered, an inch away from your sweaty face,
“Quitters don’t get their prize, you know that?”
Your breath almost failed you, when you told him, “Yeah, yeah, you can eat my lunch, I don’t want it anymore…”
But apparently, Daichi had another prize in his mind, another type of meal .
“Mmmh, that’s not the reward I was planning to give you…” His voice sounded dangerously seductive for the location you two were at the moment. Your eyes widened at the sudden realization.
His hands slowly roamed from your hands to your shoulders, then cupped your cheeks. His tone got back to normal when he playfully squeezed your face and said, “Six minutes!”
Six minutes passed and the jog was finally over. A little picnic at the park, a quick shower together at home, and then you were good to go. Your afternoon’s tasks awaited you.
That evening Tanaka and Kyoko joined you for dinner. They were both more than happy to give you some advice, to recommend easy and healthy recipes, and to see how the apartment had changed since their last visit.
Later that night, you and Daichi were again in your bed, tired but definitely satisfied. Your back was pressed against his broad chest, your body secured in his warm embrace, your thoughts were quiet, both your body and mind at peace.
You had worked, you had jogged, you had had some fun with Daichi at the park, you had also found some time to finish that book you had forgotten on your desk. Well, actually, Daichi had been texting you during the whole afternoon to remind you to take some breaks from time to time, to have a snack or read something. The dinner with Tanaka and Kyoko had cheered you up more than planned and that full, yet satisfying day was finally over.
You were still lost in your thoughts when you felt Daichi snuggle up, holding you even tighter than before. His left arm was wrapped around your figure while the right one was on top of yours, his fingers gently rubbing your hand, then your wrist and forearm, drawing imaginary patterns all over your skin. As he got closer, ultimately closing that tiny gap between you two, his head found the crook of your neck and gently nestled in it. Then he asked you, his voice hoarse with weariness,
“So? About the jog, did you like it?”
“Weeeell, let’s say that I liked it but mainly because we did it together.” You confessed, “Would I do it alone? I don’t know… Maybe?”
“Fair enough,” He replied and placed a sloppy kiss on your shoulder, his fingers still loosely tracing your arm. Then there was silence, the room was from time to time filled only with the muffled sound of those soft pecks he kept on leaving on your skin.
“You know,” Daichi whispered at some point, between a kiss and another, “Jogging is not the only option…” He paused to clear his throat, “There are other types of activities that we could do…” Another kiss, his breath warm against your neck, his tone husky with desire when he added, “That we could do indoor…”
#daichi x you#daichi x reader#daichi headcanon#daichi sawamura#daddy daichi#haikyuu oneshot#one shot#read on ao3#read on wattpad#spotify#i wrote this at 3am#sawamura daichi x reader#sawamura daichi#fluff
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Seeing as how certain Anons loved the Condemnation of the Guilty talentswaps, I thought I’d try again! Let’s give a warm welcome to Myth, the Former Ultimate Barista!
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BACKSTORY AND TALENT
For all of her life, Myth has been living in a coffee shop that doubles as her home, along with her parents and two older sisters. The coffee shop (known as Latte Love) happened to start out as a collaboration between the Ultimate Pastry Chef (Myth’s father) and the Ultimate Mixologist (Myth’s mother). Coincidently, Myth’s two older sisters happened to be Ultimates before her, thanks to the fame of Latte Love, with her older sister being the current Ultimate Pastry Chef and her other older sister being the Ultimate Tea Master. Latte Love is famous for its wide selections of both drinks and pastries to enjoy with your beverage of choice, but it was catapulted into pure stardom thanks to a particular skill that Myth has, apart from her general hospitality and drink-mixing skills: latte art. Because of Myth’s adorable and expertly-crafted latte art, the popularity of Latte Love exploded, particularly on social media. Myth is also known for her romantic advice to her customers, despite not being in a relationship herself, which led to a lot of her customers finding love.
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RELATIONSHIPS
Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Drummer
Wyre is the well-known drummer of the emo-grunge-rock band “FOZZIL HUNT”, and is famous for their wild drum solos and their equally wild personality. Wyre and Myth have been the best of friends, ever since they were little, and not even their busy schedules can keep them apart. When Wyre isn’t booked with tours and concerts, they always come to Latte Love and orders their usual, knowing that Myth would prepare their order with that signature sweet smile of hers. Wyre has a bit of a complex and love-hate relationship with a certain confrontational rebellion leader, and Myth always tries to pair them up, much to their protests.
Outfit: A red bandana on her head, elaborate makeup, a black tank top with her band’s logo on the front that shows off her tattooed arms, blue Jean shorts with brown holsters to hold her drumsticks in, black boots.
Anon Scar, Ultimate Drill Sargent
With a loud voice and a strict and heavily-concerned demeanor, Scar‘s personality makes her the perfect person to lead soldiers in their crusade for their country. Commonly regarded as a mother to her soldiers in tales of the battlefield, Scar yearns to hang up her uniform and go back to the good ol’ days of childhood leisure. Scar has a strict schedule, and always arrives at Latte Love by the time Myth turns the open sign. Scar seems to be enamored by the skittish and fanatic priest, and just seeing him makes her maternal instincts flair up. Despite finding Scar eccentric, Myth finds her stories fascinating, and tries to pair the sergeant and the priest.
Outfit: A tattered bandana version of her face mask, black sunglasses, a black tanktop with a camo jacket slung on her shoulders, dark green pants, boots from original design.
Fusion Anon, Ultimate Fashion Designer
Having gotten his start working at his mother’s boutique, Fusion draws the design of the garments, while his mother makes the actual garments. Fusion originally went to Latte Love purely to both gorge himself on pastries and caffeine, and sketch the outfits of the customers that frequent Latte Love. But now, he has a new goal in mind: helping Myth with pairing up the customers. Myth considers Fusion one of her most frequent customers, and finds it amazing that this svelte and proper gentleman can eat his weight in food. Fusion and Myth have a mutual respect for each other, and consider each other “partners in matchmaking“.
Outfit: A blue and yellow striped vest over a red dress shirt and a yellow bow tie, white gloves that hide his work injuries, a tape measure tied around his neck and arms, pants, glasses and shoes from his original design, always holds a sketchbook.
Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Gunslinger
Growing up as a fan of old westerns and historical fiction, Fusion II is a master when it comes to gunmanship and is especially skilled when it comes to the quick draw. Every good cowgirl needs a saloon, and Fusion II quickly established Latte Love as her saloon. But as much as Fusion II tries to play up the ”cool and stoic cowgirl” stint, it’s kind of hard to do that when she’s a bi disaster attracted to the oddly-energetic and childish bed tester. Myth can sympathize with Fusion II’s bi hangups and, as much as Fusion II tries to deny it, the sarcastic gun master really appreciates the kindly barkeep’s company.
Outfit: A silver cowboy hat, jacket from original design with a gold sheriff star pinned to the front, over a red flannel shirt and a blue bandana around her neck, blue jeans with a brown holster that houses her guns, steel-toed cowboy boots.
Just Anon, Ultimate Card Shark
Janon is a feared name in underground gambling tournaments, and for a good reason. With his unreadable face and his skill in the art of cheating and deception, Janon truly earned the epithet of “The Night Terror”. Gambling and lying seems to be the only two things that Janon really puts effort into doing, for he puts the upmost minimal effort into anything else. Janon regularly crashes at Latte Love and occupies one of the tables to take a snooze. Despite Janon claiming that he does it for snorts and giggles, Myth quickly found out the real reason: to check out the adorable delivery person that frequents the coffee shop.
Outfit: A white and pink fedora, mask from original design, a brown jacket with suit-themed pins, over a pink and black tie with a bunny pin, a black belt with a bunny buckle, brown pants, brown shoes.
Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Pinball Wizard
Known for her loud and eccentric fashion sense and her equally eccentric personality, Sparkle dominated pinball machine after pinball machine in every local, and even extralocal, arcade. Needless to say, Myth’s day instantly became weirder the very second Sparkle entered Latte Love and loudly announced her presence to everybody. But ever since Sparkle found out that her favorite mangaka frequents the cafe alongside their twin, Sparkle has frequented the cafe much more. Sparkle’s little celebrity crush on the mangaka didn’t go unnoticed by Myth, and she helps the loud wizard with vocalizing her feelings.
Outfit: A wizard hat and cloak that is colored with obnoxious 90’s-esque patterns, glasses and boots from original design.
Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Mangaka, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Thanatologist
With their shared penchant of the horrific and cursed, this fearsome duo go about their interests in completely different ways. While Wet Sock takes a more cold and scientific approach to their interest in the macabre, Egg takes their macabre mindset and uses it to create popular horror manga. While they are thought of as a bane to the wholesome atmosphere of Latte Love, two people actually look forward to the twin’s presence: Sparkle and Myth. Despite Wet Sock’s severe denial of their feelings, Wet Sock still continues to stick around Myth’s desk, and Myth eventually found out the reason why: Wet Sock is head-over-heels for her.
Outfit: Both of them wear entirely black gakurans and glasses, but Egg has a pocket protector and ink-stained hands, and Wet Sock has a skull pin and dirt-stained hands.
Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Deliveryperson
From a young age, Curious has been working for a variety of companies as a door-to-door delivery person and is renowned for their punctuality and sweet smile. Curious is currently working under Latte Love, as its reliable coffee and pastry delivery person. Myth views Curious as a bit of a mystery. For example, she always gives Curious coffee to perk them up on night deliveries, but she never sees Curious actually drink the coffee. That, and she’s heavily concerned about the fact that a middle schooler is working full-time as a delivery person, and doesn’t seem to show any signs of being tired.
Outfit: An entirely green outfit consisting of a cap, polo shirt, pants and tennis shoes, with their hair in a small ponytail.
Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Revolutionary
Born in a corrupt and dirt-poor city, Nerd grew up yearning for the government to be overthrown by someone actually worthy of leading, such as himself for instance. After gathering up a cavalcade of followers with his cynical, yet rousing, speeches, Nerd organized a revolution and managed to overthrow the government of the town, and lead the citizens to a healthier and more productive life. Nerd pities Myth and sees her as “a slave to the grain”, whatever that means. And with a loud and violent man, Myth paired him up with an equally loud and violent lady. Nerd is currently trying to seduce Wyre with loud protest songs.
Outfit: Same outfit from his original design but with a ragged green cape, a red armband, and a red megaphone clipped to his belt.
Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Priest
As a person born under the creators of a creepy cult from the middle of nowhere, Eldritch has been forced to conduct the religious proceedings of the cult, ever since he became a teenager. Needless to say, Eldritch hasn’t exactly been raised correctly, for he doesn’t seem to trust anyone who isn’t in his cult, and yearns to indoctrinate others into his religion. Unfortunately for the paranoid priest, he has fallen in love with someone outside of his fate, a maternal drill sargaent, and he is currently awaiting his divine punishment from his deity. And that blasted barkeep isn’t helping matters either.
Outfit: A black hooded cassock with oversized sleeves and a golden cross necklace,
Dream Anon, Ultimate Bed Tester
One review from Dream is enough to make or break entire bed companies, and she takes her talent very seriously. Despite what her talent and clothes would suggest, Dream is very energetic, has trouble standing still, and her hyper attitude is quite contagious to boot. Ever since she happened upon the coffee shop run by the nice barista, she has found the coolest girl ever: an actual cowgirl! Dream thinks it‘s very funny to watch the sharpshooter get all flustered and blushy when Dream gets too close to her. Myth always looks forward to Dream’s daily visits and her energy is enough to brighten up Myth’s day.
Outfit: A pink sleeping mask, a blue hoodie with a fluffy hood and a pink swirly pattern over a black t-shirt with a pink heart on the front, black and white pajama shorts, white socks and pink slippers, hair that reaches her mid-back.
Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Samurai
Before meeting Iris, Myth thought that samurai became extinct a long time ago. You would not believe Myth‘s disbelief of an actual samurai heiress not only existing in the modern day, but also eating at her cafe and actually liking the food. Just like with Fusion, Iris chose to help Myth out in her matchmaking endeavors, for she actually has romantic experience and can offer the patrons advice. While initially in disbelief that a middle schooler could have more romantic game than her, she decided to let the clumsy yet earnest samurai work her relationship magic, and it actually worked half of the time, much to Myth’s astonishment.
Outfit: A blue kimono with a yellow galaxy-like pattern all over, a silver katana sheath, white socks and brown geta sandals.
Purple Anon, Ultimate Statistical Analyst
Whenever Fusion gives his order out to Myth, he always adds candy to his order for somebody named “Purple”. When asked who Purple is or why she never eats or drinks at Latte Love, Fusion claims that Purple is really shy and never really leaves her house. However, Purple still manages to be an indirect assistant to Myth, Fusion and Iris’s matchmaking endeavors. Whenever any of the matchmakers have an idea, Fusion will text the idea to Purple, to get a statistical analysis on the success of the plan. Myth is truly grateful to Purple, for saving her chocolate-dipped bacon from failed plans, even though the two never met.
Outfit: A black jacket over a purple turtleneck and a red and black striped tie, skirt, stockings and shoes from original design, mid-back length hair in a ponytail and black fake glasses.
This series centers around Myth’s matchmaking misadventures, as she works hard to stir up romance between the eccentric customers of her coffee shop, along with the help of Fusion, Purple and Iris. Successful results may vary. Basically a Coffee Shop AU!
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APPEARANCE
Barista!Myth wears thick and square-rimmed glasses and her long hair in twin braids with a green hairband on top. As for her clothing, Myth wears a brown apron with Latte Love’s logo on the front, over a green turtleneck sweater, brown pants and black slip-on shoes.
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PERSONALITY
Barista!Myth carries herself with a calming and extroverted personality. However, Barista!Myth is a very low-energy extrovert, and is very content with just watching and conversing with people from behind her front desk. A lot of her younger customers compare her to a kind, patient and caring mom, and she’s just the person to talk to, if you want advice. Barista!Myth has a surprisingly amazing memory, and just by looking at her regulars, she can remember their name and their usual. Barista!Myth retains her love of matchmaking and terrible puns from Romantic!Myth.
——————————————————-
I hope you like this talentswap and don’t mind the rarepairs! If you don’t like the ships, let me know! Have a sweet week, everyanon!
-Fusion Anon
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I love this!!
#submission#anon#fusion anon#talentswap tuesday#art#not my art#fusion anon ii#purple anon#iris anon#just anon#curious anon#eldritch anon#sparkling anon#dream anon#wet sock anon#egg anon#anon nerd#anon scar#my evil twin#anon kg
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Some random shit cause why not?
Gonna do this organized by pairing so
Creativitwins
When I say creativitwins btw, I mean no romantic relations between these two what so ever, and only mean their sibling relationship. RemRom shippers DNI/Do NOT tag as RemRom
They have a monthly prank war, most of it taking place in the Imagination so they can go all out but sometimes they'll do more harmless pranks on the others in the mind palace
If they have partners, they're best friends with the other person's partner
Ex. Intrulogical and Roceit = Platonic!Logince and Platonic!Dukeceit
Neither of them is King, and King is neither of the twins. It took awhile for everyone in the mind palace to accept this
They celebrate the split together, for awhile it was in secret. They spend the day just at each others sides and its the one day everyone can expect them to get along
They would murder for each other
Very critical of one another's partners if they have them
They both helped in creating the Dragon Witch, and the Dragon Witch has a strong bond with the twins because of this; the Dragon Witch was the last creation they made together before feuds started between them
Remus does very minor things that annoys Roman but Roman can't get mad cause they're really petty things and he hates that Remus knows just how far to push it
They binge movies sometimes, alternating between what each of them likes
They collaborate on fanfics together
Often times it's hurt/comfort fics
Remus is scarily good at writing fluff with very interesting descriptions and Roman's amazing when it comes to angst that can punch you in the gut in so few words
They are the matchmaking royalty of the mind palace, and know within hours when someone develops a crush
They both get very loopy whenever Thomas has a crush, and around 3am if Thomas hasn't gone to bed yet
They get into a l o t of fights, and often say many things they don't mean. They make it up usually but there are some things that were never resolved
Remus taught Roman how to sew, but he's awful at designing himself so Roman helped create Remus's outfit so that it didn't look like a fashion hurricane had wrecked his brother
Sometimes Remus will waltz into Roman's room when Roman is sleeping and just flop onto Roman
On these nights(it's always in the middle of the night) everyone will be woken up by unholy screeches from Roman as Remus refuses to get off him. Except Deceit, who sleeps with headphones on and music blasting cause he knows Remus will do some random loud shit at night and he needs beauty sleep
Both the twins can't recall any memories from King, but they have a journal left by him in the center of the Imagination and sometimes they'll just sit together and go through the entries
At the end of the day they have each other's backs and would do anything to protect the other
Kingceit
This is obviously before the split
King just always felt a certain curiosity when it came to the dishonest side, and Deceit didn't mind Creativity's company
When Virgil first forms they take care of him together
Deceit is tiny and King is pretty tall so King just loves to carry Deceit around and Deceit just lets him after awhile
King loves hearing Deceit sing
King also adores Deceit's scales, and he loves kissing every single one in the morning and seeing Deceit's human side blush
Deceit enjoys hearing King's random stories and ideas, and often helped expand them by asking questions
For a long time Deceit had some control over the Imagination because King gave him that ability, but after the split Deceit left all the control to Remus and Roman
Deceit still can't enter the Imagination after the split occurred, no matter how much the twins beg him to visit and see what they've created
King and Deceit's relationship just kind of works, y'know? And it just sort of happened over time and it just felt right to them
King is not allowed to cook. He does not fight Deceit's decision to ban him from the kitchen, as last time King tried cooking he nearly burned most of the house
King's great at decorating cake tho so Deceit bakes the cake and King gets free reign over how it looks in the end
They go to bed super early and sleep in till around noon, often drifting back and forth between sleep and consciousness
Both are absolute saps when they're tired and say the most cheesy shit to one another
Dukexiety
Late night conspiracies
They actually make a great team when protecting Thomas, none of the other sides realize that a lot of the things that Virgil worries over for Thomas's sake were things suggested by Remus(ex. "What if that guy drugged our drink and we end up being overcome with so much pain that it paralyzes us and we can't call out and he ends up killing us" turns into "hey lets not drink this in case someone messed with it")
Virgil loves listening to Remus's stories, and is often one of the first to read them(after Remus tells him anything that might be triggering so Virgil knows if he could take it or not)
Remus is a cuddle monster but respects when Virgil doesn't want to touch anyone and usually asks if Virgil would rather be alone or if Remus could like, hang out on Virgil's floor for a bit of something
Remus made Virgil's hoodie
They both stay up incredibly late just talking about anything
And they both get up incredibly early
Logan scolds them constantly that they should sleep more
Virgil one time made a playlist for Remus to use when writing and Remus fucking cried while almost squeezing the life out of Virgil in a hug
Virgil's also drawn fan art for Remus's work but never intended to show Remus cause Virgil never thought he was any good
Remus found his sketchbooks one day and tackled Virgil in a hug the next time he saw Virgil
Virgil loves holding hands, so if cuddling is too much they'll just hold hands and sit side by side doing their own thing
Virgil absolutely loves Remus's tentacles, they're incredibly useful and whenever Remus uses them to hug Virgil, Virgil never feels safer
Virgil is strong as hell and just carries Remus bridal style sometimes
Virgil does Remus's makeup
Remus calls Virgil his Scare-bear and his Starshine, Virgil calls Remus his Gremlin and Bastard Husband(Remus grins ear-to-ear at the nicknames)
Also common when they're both sleep deprived and sappy and shit are Hon, Love, Darling, Dearest, Honey-Bear, Light of my life, Night to my day, and Moon to my stars
Intrulogical
They're both enthusiasts of forensic shows and murder mysteries
The show Forensic Files? They binged every episode together. They try to figure out who the culprit was before the episode ends and it's revealed. Remus has been correct 5 more times than Logan, however they both often get it right
Remus is on amazing terms with the Dragon Witch and the Dragon Witch ends up officiating at their wedding
Logan patches up Remus whenever one of Remus's creatures hurt him
Logan will edit all of Remus's works, as well as help develop ideas by giving feedback or ask questions or just listen to Remus ramble
Logan loves Remus rambling and will get comfortable wherever they are cause it can go on for hours
Not that he minds
Remus is Logan's Duke and Logan is Remus's Star
Remus is very easy to fluster
Especially when Logan says he loves Remus. Even after the thousandth time Remus turns crimson
Fucking dramatic these two are with their romantic gestures and yet still somehow keep their relationship hidden for years
Remus loves Logan's room cause it's actually very calming and it's filled with a bunch of soft chairs, piles of pillows and blankets, and an air mattress in the corner if anyone wants to sleep in Logan's room for the night
Logan was shocked that Remus's room was actually pretty organized. Still messy, but you could definitely find anything you needed by just glancing around
They both enthuse about space
Remus created a constellation in the Imagination and named it Logan
He also regularly creates new constellations there so Logan can find them and name them
Logan definitely writes fanfics based on Remus's stories
Remus breaks down the first time Logan says he loves Remus, and the night ends with him holding Remus close and uttering the words softly over and over
Remus loves hearing Logan read and sometimes if Remus can't sleep Logan will just read to him
Anxceit
Virgil and Deceit have many debates, they're friendly though and they both agree before the debates that they'll keep it friendly
Deceit's great at getting Virgil out of a panic or anxiety attack
Deceit uses all six of his arms when cuddling Virgil, playing with Virgil's hair or hands and holding him around the waist or stomach
They bake together a lot. Virgil has a massive sweet tooth
Will stab a bitch if you hurt the other
Virgil really loves to paint Deceit's nails
He also sometimes uses makeup to cover up Deceit's scales when Deceit gets really self conscious about them. Once the makeup comes off though Virgil will pepper kisses over the scales and run his fingers over them lightly and tell Deceit how gorgeous he looks
On the flip side Deceit loves his scales and so does Virgil cause they glimmer in the light
Virgil adores drawing Deceit
They do holidays in an anti way and do the opposite of everything you're supposed to do
They just sort of had an agreement that they'd get married and then they did, no big wedding or anything
Everyone was shook when they learned that the two were together, more so married
Both love cuddling and hold each other whenever. But they still have their different rooms cause sometimes you need a break y'know?
Sometimes they'll sit together in relative silence doing their own thing but like, leaning against one another lightly as they do it
Deceit monitors Virgil's coffee intake
#dukexiety#creativitwins#intrulogical#kingceit#anxceit#virgil sanders#deceit sanders#remus sanders#logan sanders#roman sanders#king sanders#romantic intrulogical#romantic dukexiety#romantic anxceit#romantic kingceit#sanders sides#ts sides#ts logan#ts remus#ts deceit#ts king#ts virgil#sympathetic virgil#sympathetic logan#sympathetic deceit#sympathetic remus#headcanons#long post
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