#pretending as if liking the colour pink hasn’t been an entire part of my personality for the past 2 years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunflowersseemhappy · 3 years

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Do you have any headcanons for main 6 set in modern times? What kind of job would they have, what music would they like or whatever else? I love your headcanons, they're always so detailed and on point 💖

I really loved doing this, only reason it took so long is because I definitely over thought a lot of this. Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy the headcanons, I definitely want to do more of this! SO when I have the time I definitely will and I actually have a rough plan of what the story and the background for the six and MC’s would be.

The “Event” mentioned references the plague but when and if I get to it that will all be explained.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED but here is my Masterlist in the meantime!

Asra

You’ll usually find Asra in one of two places, the shop or the local cafe/bakery, living the slow city life.

Asra loves to people watch and more importantly he loves photography, he’s always taking pictures, a lot of them are of MC.

His bedroom wall is plastered with his photography and he sells a lot of them as a side gig on etsy.

He has a great blog too.

But his main focus is the shop, tucked away on a quiet corner street it feels faintly magical. Asra does tarot, sells candles, crystals and other trinkets, as well as herbal remedies that Julian admits work quite well.

In this AU Asra grew up in foster care, so when he finally found his home in the shop he never thought about living anywhere else.

It’s stayed that way for years, sharing a two bedroom flat above the shop with MC, its cluttered at times, filled with secondhand belongings but Asra loves having his own space and own things.

And he so loves taking his little holidays out of the city, bringing back more trinkets that bring good luck and fortune.

Asra always wears sneakers or trainers on his feet, mainly because all he does is walk in the city.

Although he does have a painted van for the shop deliveries; he and MC spent a week painting a swirling pattern on its sides.

His wardrobe is all tees with faded logos and cotton pants but on the rare occasion he decides to dress up Asra has an impossibly colourful blouse and faded jeans he loves to wear.

And there are so many hats! Vesuvia is sunny but he has more hats than he needs, although it's nice to have one for any occasion.

Also has crocs, they are an abomination of pink.

Asra’s phone of choice is an old samsung, he keeps meaning to update it but he’s a bit scared the photos on it will get lost.

Asra and technology don’t always mix well, for some reason...

Even in this universe Asra wouldn’t be Asra if he didn’t have Faust, a mischievous lavender python who always seems to escape her vivarium and ends up in Asra’s camera bag.

When Asra picked her out at the pets store he was told he was the only person she had ever not bitten or squeezed. Asra believes in fate, so he took her back home with him and the two are inseparable.

Asra oh so loves music, and just about any kind of tune can be found on his mp3 however he soon found his favourite to be the chillhop tunes the cafe played everyday. They really relax him.

The biggest Disney fan when he was younger, Asra then slowly decided Dreamworks were better but his favourite movies are those from Studio Ghibli. Asra simply adores the art, the music and the stories.

As mentioned Asra loves photography but he also quickly discovered watercolour paint and he doesn’t claim to be good at it but he does love making little pieces of art for birthdays and Christmas.

Speaking of which Christmas is his favourite holiday.

Asra also dabbles in growing orchids, he's too successful and there are so many he and MC don’t know what to do with them!

Asra’s favourite hobby aside from photography is rollerblading. He’s pretty good at it, cruising through the streets and along the dockside of the city (he definitely dragged MC into trying it out).

Asra never really thought he’d be one to get a tattoo but after getting Faust he changed his mind, since then he has a gorgeous complicated tattoo of the little snake on his shoulder blade.

It was only after “The Event” that Asra got another one; MC’s favourite flower on his hip bone.

Nadia

Nadia Santrivia, she’s beautiful, generous and married one of the richest men in the city, for the most part she’s alright with that.

Although Nadia hasn’t always lived in Vesuvia she’s tuned into the city around her so well, she’s in her element and thriving.

Work doesn’t end, if there was ever a beginning to start with. It's one thing after another; approving designs, attending fancy dinners, opening a charity fundraiser. Life is busy for the CEO of Vesuvia Industries.

Nadia’s happy to run Lucio’s business, because she knows she can do good with it but she can get lonely. Thankfully she has several friends who she can rely on to cheer her on...

The most important thing is that she can be herself, her own person, being last in line for her parent’s business and overshadowed by several sisters Nadia needed an escape.

Vesuvia provided the opportunity.

Nadia’s apartment is sat above the clouds in the skyscraper of Vesuvia Industries, much the same as the other universe home and work go hand in hand when it comes to Nadia.

She’s not materialistic, her apartment is clean and open and perfect for yoga and other purposes that require open space. It's very new and high tech, the coffee machine is her favourite thing though.

The views of the sunrise over the bay are gorgeous.

Ashamed to admit she has tons of shoes.

It’s usually required of Nadia to have the suits and dresses befitting a woman of her status, so when the sun goes down or she has a day off Nadia looks like an entirely different person.

She’s no less stylish, but her airy blouse’s, ripped denim jeans, subtle leather jacket and ankle boots give her a whole different persona, and man does it make her look good on her motorcycle.

Yes a motorcycle, Nadia owns one. It comes out of her garage only once a month but when it does she turns heads.

The rest of the time Naida is pretty eco-friendly with an electric car the business made just for her in a deep shade of purple.

As the CEO of the company Nadia is expected to have the latest iPhone model, her phone is always ringing and if she weren’t so patient she’d probably hurl it off the skyscraper roof.

Nadia always wanted a pet but she could never figure out what kind, and one dropped into her lap literally. Turns out she’s an owl person, although Nadia would never consider Chandra a pet more a companion.

A skyscraper is no place for a semi-wild owl but Nadia is happy enough to make the trip to the stables outside of Vesuvia to see Chandra and give her toys. Such a change from the small owlet Nadia raised.

When it comes to music Nadia is very picky, she spent her childhood listening to her sister’s choice of music and certain songs just put her in a bad mood, except for jazz.

That music preference surprised her but as soon as she discovered Lucio didn’t like it she was hooked. She thought about learning the saxophone (not to annoy Lucio or anything, no definitely not...)

Nadia’s not a big movie watcher, although she is a big fan of disaster movies when the mood strikes (it's nice to think about more chaotic things happening than signing a stack of papers), mainly she only has time to watch tv shows.

Her favourite is the Walking Dead but MC has caught her watching ‘how its made’ shows too. Of course being an avid inventor Nadia would be enthralled by seeing how her car or coffee machine is put together.

Speaking of inventing, although Nadia always wanted to make it her job she’s only ever gotten to approve the inventions her company makes.

It's not entirely what she wanted but thankfully she has just enough time to squeeze in working on her little projects. Ones she hopes will help others one day.

Nadia’s found it super important in the big city to keep herself safe, between her hobbies of yoga, kung fu and fencing she’s a pretty formidable opponent. It’s saved her life more than she’ll ever admit.

Her other hobbies, to list a few are horse riding, polo, piano, swimming, wine tasting, and playing those arcade grabber machines (she has about 50 teddy bears and MC has about the same amount). Most of those hobbies began in her childhood.

Nadia likes to pretend she is above getting a tattoo but anyone who knows her well enough will reveal she has a owl shadow tattoo on her inner heel.

Julian

Poor Julian is the definition of a struggling city batchelor, and he certainly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Still the most well traveled of the group Julian spent his formative years abroad in the army as a field medic (where he met Lucio), now though he’s a lean mean crime fighting machine!

Well he’s a forensics doctor for the Vesuvia PD, but it still counts as being a crime fighter! He’s never really lost that dramatic flair that's for sure.

He’s been a bit of everything; medic and doctor, waiter, translator, actor, sailor, troublemaker and a fugitive (but that’s a story for another day).

But Vesuvia truly is his real home, a place he’s always come back to and where he’s made friends and family, enemies, lovers, and memories.

Sure he lives in the ‘bad part’ of town as Asra calls it, but Julian feels at home enough that it doesn’t bother him, that and he’s got Mazelinka to handle the riff raff.

The two of them share a two-storey house that sits next to his favourite bar, a bit too convenient for Maz’s liking. Despite that the place is cozy and old, all wood flooring and furniture that's been around longer than Julian’s lifetime, it’s filled with the scent of cooking and coffee and other than the box tv and Julian’s phone there's almost no modern technology.

Julian’s room has faded photos of his friends, and postcards from places he’s been too and a few posters of his favourite plays, as well as rough sketches tacked to the corkboard his desk is littered with papers and he even has an old school microscope.

In the mess of his room only Julian can find the thing that he’s looking for, he calls it an ‘organized mess’ when in reality it’s really just a mess.

Unfortunately this extends to his clothing choices too, Julian is terrible at laundry so there is no end to the stains on his mellow patterned tees and jeans, the only smart thing about his wardrobe are his boots and oxfords.

Quite true to form his black trench coat is a constant companion. He usually dresses like he’s in a black and white movie or like a scruffy doctor when he’s in his lab coat.

Still has an eye patch, his depth perception when crossing roads is not great... there are a lot of hospital bills.

Also the reason he doesn’t drive unless he can help it, Julian doesn’t own a car but he’s prone to borrowing one if he needs it (usually from Asra).

Julian is very much the guy on the subway who falls asleep on your shoulder because it's the only place his mind isn’t working overtime.

MC thinks it’s very cute.

Julian’s not really too fussed about his phone of choice, Samsung, Apple, so long as he can make calls and do google searches on symptoms of a flu he’s good. No matter how hard he tries his screen is always cracked.

People often point out the raven following Julian around, he’s not too sure if its the same one but Julian knows its his own fault feeding the scrawny thing when it landed on his window pane. Now it won’t leave him alone, Julian took to calling it Malak and he’s quite fond of the bird even if it likes to cackle for food outside his window at an ungodly hour in the morning.

Maz has threatened to cook Malak on more than one occasion.

Music is one of the few things that helps Julian focus, he’s not usually super into any particular artist or album but his main love is music from musicals and movie soundtracks, if he’s able to do so he’ll sing along.

Lead forensic doctor Valdemar finds it highly unprofessional when they are conducting autopsies.

Almost has no time to watch movies or tv but if you strapped Julian to a chair and put on Brooklyn 99 or any kind of superhero movie he might enjoy it just a little bit...

Honestly though those things are just background noise for him, Julian will put on the tv to keep himself occupied while he’s doing reports. But he loves comedy movies and shows, they might tear him away from his laptop just long enough that he gets a few good laughs.

However if Mazlinka gets the old camcorder out he’s all over watching old home videos of him and Portia and his old hound dog, he’s just so nostalgic sometimes.

Thinks learning counts as a hobby, Julian habitually grabs any book he can to read through so youtube is a miracle in his eyes. Free content, that he can listen to and learn from as well as visually see? Yes please.

Julian learned to play the fiddle when he was younger, for a time as a teen he even went street performing to earn money for Portia’s obsession with bracelet making. He doesn’t play it much anymore but he’ll give MC a tune anyday.

He’s also very invested in cocktail mixing, only thing he mixes is Salty Bitters, he’ll argue any day that the Salty Bitter counts as a cocktail.

Also very invested in his self sustaining bio-tank at work, the other officers are growing concerned about the leeches Julian likes to keep in it. They’re planning an intervention.

The only tattoo Julian had was one forcibly given during “The Event”, his ‘murderers mark’ on his hand. He’s really ashamed of it because it reminds him of the part he had in the disaster that befell Vesuvia.

Muriel

He definitely suits the other universe more, it's even harder to get away from people in this modern world.

But the start remains the same, he was lost and his only friend was Asra for a long time, until Lucio came along and tricked him into doing unspeakable things as a ‘bodyguard’ until he escaped.

People are unavoidable and Muriel keeps to himself during his job as a keeper for a local animal sanctuary, raising and re-releasing wildlife with other volunteers, he practically runs the place.

But the volunteers know not to bother him especially when he goes back to his house on the hill, to take care of his chickens before he vanishes like usual into his house.

No one knows much about him, and he prefers it like that.

Muriel’s home is simple and honestly built for one, there’s only one chair, only one pillow on the bed, only one set of cutlery, only one of everything. It leaks on occasion and always needs fixing, he’ll forgo sleep to fix things.

Who needs more than four hours of sleep anyway?

A lot of Muriel’s belongings are from garage sales, or picked up off the side of the road, not a lot of money goes toward his comfort Muriel prefers that the animals in the sanctuary have comfortable beds and good food.

Muriel’s clothes? He wears them till they die, an usually when he picks them up from a garage sale they’re already pretty close.

For that reason Muriel doesn’t have a specific choice of clothing, he owns jumpers, tees, denim jackets, flannels and whatever jeans and pants fit. He has one pair of khaki coloured boots that are surprisingly well maintained and usually wears a beanie or cattleman hat to hide his face.

Old pick up, old pick up, old pick up! Owns an old pick up truck he fixed up, it breaks down regularly and only plays radio but Inanna enjoys riding in the back. Muriel likes driving a lot on those country roads.

All that’s to be said about Muriel and his phone is this; he owns a nokia and has no intention of getting a smartphone. Ever.

His hands are a bit big for it though, he’s called MC and Julian accidently so many times... and he only usually text’s, so that's awkward.

Inanna is Muriel’s constant companion, and when they’re in the city man do the two of them turn heads. Inanna is a wolfdog in this universe and she definitely looks more wolf than dog.

But she really is a big sweetheart, Muriel raised her from a puppy after she was rejected and placed in a shelter, he knew a wolf dog would need some special attention to grow into a perfect companion rather than a dangerous animal.

Anyone can look at Muriel and instantly think he’s one of those people who would play country music, for the most part that’s true. He does play the guitar and can sing okay, he does like country but his real love of music comes from indie artists.

He can’t really explain it but the music gives him a sense of carelessness and hope he’s never known.

Doesn’t really watch tv or movies, Muriel is almost always too busy for that but he’s found it the strangest thing, Inanna likes watching tv...

After that he got drawn in by the documentaries about animals, he didn’t really realize that people did shows about the habitats and behaviours of animals but he finds himself entranced by it when he passes by.

He soon relented and sits on the floor with his arm draped over Inanna as they watch documentaries about wolves in Alaska.

With the amount of animals Muriel raises anyone would call it a job, Muriel however would argue it's a hobby for him. Sure waking up every hour in the night to feed raccoon babies isn’t ideal but it's never been anything short of joyous to watch them go back to the wild.

Muriel's other hobby centres around his guitar and learning songs to play to himself and maybe a certain person *cough* MC *cough*.

He’s also an avid baker, none of his meals are ready made. Leading on from that he forages for mushrooms, and herbs rather than buys them.

Muriel doesn’t have a tattoo, only his scars.

He thought about getting some but he doesn’t trust someone to touch him that way and also he’s not a big fan of needles.

Probably a good thing otherwise Inanna and all his chickens names would be on his arm.

Portia

Absolutely suits the modern life in this universe, Portia somehow finds the time to do everything, the bustling worker or the relaxed dreamer.

She’s almost everywhere in the city, doing everything at once; working at Vesuvia Industries, grabbing the sweetest iced tea at the cafe, exploring the corruption of downtown streets.

Portia is obsessed with knowing every inch of the city, and what goes on inside it because it's a very strange city with a stranger history.

Portia is a great and helpful assistant to Nadia, but she’s also hiding a lot including her identity as Pasha Devorak the reporter for Vesuvian Times.

She has as many curious secrets as the city.

Portia previously lived in a small studio flat however since working for Nadia she has been lucky enough to afford to rent out a small cottage outside the city. She loves it so much and other than being in an AU not much has changed between the two cottages.

It’s shielded by so many grand trees and a vivacious garden that it feels like her own little world, the inside of the cottage is filled with hand knitted blankets, painted glass figurines and the warm smell of baked goods.

Sometimes its a bigger place than Portia can manage by herself but she likes taking to fixing things as they come along, she definitely is a fan of the saying “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it!”

Her clothing choices are just so cute and by no means is she afraid of showing off her cottage core style; jumpers, skirts, vest tops, crop tops and patterned blouses look really good on her. Of course the garden requires the heavy duty stuff, sweatpants, a tattered tee and the old hoodie that refuses to die.

She’s not to much into heels even though she’s short, Portia prefers pumps and loafers because “comfort over beauty!” (although she would be pretty cute with or without).

Nadia finds Portia’s headstrong and optimism very amusing and definitely takes a few life lessons from Portia.

Who needs to drive? Portia doesn’t, she loves taking the bus or the train wherever she goes. That way she can bop her head to her tunes while watching the landscape go by, in a beautiful intricate place like Vesuvia it's important to take it all in.

That and everyone can agree that Portia behind the wheel of a vehicle is a disaster, she just gets so distracted.

Nadia has offered Portia a new phone many times but Portia is plenty happy enough with her older gen 6 iphone (because if she got a new one she’d have to get wireless headphones!) Also she’d feel bad for Siri.

Unfortunately Pepi the cat came from terrible circumstances, certain circumstances where Portia jumped of a bridge after witnessing someone chuck a mewling bag into the river.

But Portia is so thankful for her amazing kitten, the two of them protect each other. Though Pepi’s idea of protecting Portia is making sure the birds don’t feed from the feeder outside and meowing at the fridge when it’s too loud.

Portia’s music taste is disarming to those who don’t know her well, she is a huge fan of rock, any rock music just so long as it’s good and a classic (ACDC, Queen, etc...) she likes to think she is a connoisseur of rock.

Julian can not put into words how much he abhorred it when his little sister would blast that music to drown out his.

Portia will either watch every movie or show when it comes out or will binge watch a show or movie after forgetting it existed. There is no inbetween, but she loves media, consumes it even.

Detective shows and spy movies are her favourite but she’ll enjoy just about anything unless it's a musical she was forced to watch one too many times because of Julian.

Portia has so many hobbies, one would say too many but she digresses.

Of course gardening is at the top of her list, moreso because the garden always needs doing but she gets a great sense of pride growing her own food and Pepi loves chasing the spiders that hide in the strawberries.

Portia is also a very avid blogger, there is a lot of conspiracy theories on there but with a following of half the city it seems pretty popular.

In her downtime Portia is loves to relax with her favourite soft drink and beat V3suviaC0unt#1 ass on her games console, she finds the shrieking of her enemy to be great fun.Portia’s love of games however soon transpired to collecting action figures of her favourite game characters.

She is very protective of them.

Like Muriel, Portia also doesn’t have a tattoo. It’s not that she’s afraid of needles but she just hasn’t found a reasonably good design to get yet.

Lucio

Lucio is definitely the one out of the six who was made for the modern world, sure being a Count is cool and all but in this world he can have both power and freedom and not have to sit in every meeting called.

He’s never once taken anything seriously, Lucio’s power has been built on the backs of others without him ever having to raise a finger.

It’s happened everywhere he goes, in the army he sacrificed the good of his teammates to rise in the ranks, he forced the Asra’s parents to make him the best prosthetic arm in history, he codled up to an old dying man to get his business and when he found out that wasn’t for him Lucio pawned it off to his wife and rolled onto the next devious plan.

Lucio’s been an army man, a CEO, a crime lord and the cause of “The Event” but maybe one day he’ll rise above those defining moments and be greater (but that is a story for another day).

Of course Lucio did live with Nadia for a time, but when he made her CEO Lucio took to calling his mansion home, Nadia wasn’t a fan of the creepy vibe it gave off which is just as well because Lucio hosts a lot of unsavoury characters...

True to form each room in that place has only the most expensive belongings, every bed is king size and the garage is filled with gas guzzling monstrosities of cars. It’s not cluttered by any means, but it's gaudy and shows off his wealth.

The only place things seem normal is the kitchen, Lucio doesn’t spend much time in there but on the wall sits a board of old memories when he got along with the others, they didn’t always find him unbearable.

Lucio’s torn it down and put it up so many times already he can never make up his mind if he wants to keep it.

Only thing Lucio ever liked about running a company were the expensive suits he was told he had to wear at least that was a great improvement on his fashion sense. Of course he’s not always wearing suits sometimes he’ll just wear a dress shirt with one too many buttons undone and a pair of white chinos and trainers.

Sunglasses are a must, that, and a lint roller. The dogs shed a lot...

As mentioned before Lucio has a lot of very pricey cars, he is the product of what would happen in Portia was given a car, he’d get distracted and crash it into the back of another vehicle.

He’s lucky anyone will insure him and that he has so many cars.

Lucio tried to be different to the ‘normies’ by getting his company to make a phone suitable to his taste. A phone that had two charging ports (to charge it twice as fast) and a waterproof casing (that kept it a bit too dry and hot so it spontaneously combusted in his pocket).

Lucio now has the latest iPhone instead.

Owns a lot of pets, the exotic eels, macaques, cockatoo, etc... The same as he does in the normal universe, none of which are particularly nice and well behaved. He prefers his fur babies Mercedes and Melinchor.

They were two dogs he saw fighting in dog fights and he was in love instantly buying them and bringing them to live with him, chaos follows those two like a bad odour.

Lucio decided that to be the cool rich guy he needed to like cool music, for the longest time he spent his time listening to hip hop no one really ever notices that Lucio in fact hates hip hop, he much prefers pop music.

It's a secret he will take to his grave but MC has definitely heard him singing to Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’ in the shower.

Lucio is the biggest movie buff in Vesuvia, he’s definitely offended when no one invites him to premieres, which is why he’s done all he can to get into movies (with little avail). And he will watch anything and enjoy it, he is usually one of those people who don’t realize the book exists when such a movie is out.

But do you know what his favourite kind of movies are?

Romantic-comedies, or just anything that's classed as romance. Date nights with Lucio are pretty good but he cries a lot, poor guy.

Just don’t get started with Lucio and hobbies, if he’s tried something once he’ll make out he knows everything about it and even if he hasn’t tried it he’ll pretend he has. He’s forever speaking out of his a** but no one dares call him out on it.

That being said Lucio really doesn’t have the capability to commit to a hobby, unless parties count? They don’t? They should!

Although one could say maybe planning parties does count...

Tattoos? Lucio has a few; his army number on the back of his neck, a sword piercing a heart on his chest and the twin silhouettes of the dogs running on the heel of his foot.

#the arcana #asra #nadia #julian #muriel #portia #lucio #modern #au #alternative #universe #the arcana asra #the arcana nadia #the arcana julian #the arcana muriel #the arcana portia #the arcana lucio

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danganronpa-21 · 3 years

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Naegiri Week Day 3 - Sunset

Happy third day of Naegiri Week! In my personal opinion, this is probably my favourite piece that I’ve written this year. It’s a sweet one with just a twinge of angst. As with the past two pieces, I have no warnings to issue aside from a little bit of graphically violent metaphor. It’s a blink and you’ll miss it kind of thing though, so there’s no need to worry too much. I hope you enjoy the piece, and that I have done our beautiful couple some justice.

________________________

A boy and a girl stood on top of the school building; their gazes turned towards the sky. The day was in the process of dying slowly, the natural cerulean fading away, melting into colours the likes of which they almost never got to see. Life so often dragged them away from something as simple as watching the sky’s transitions. Before, when the times would begin to change, they would spend their time preparing for cram school or going out to do extra work. They nearly never took notice of the refashioning. Maybe, if they were lucky, they’d stop for a second and remark to themselves about its beauty. Their eyes would catch just a hint of the rosy pinks and fruity oranges, and they could smile to themselves about what a nice view they would have during their journeys. Then, just as they always did, they would move along with their day. Never taking notice of the sky again, and missing it turn to something much more beautiful than what they had previously seen.

Getting to ignore a sunset, they quickly realized, was a privilege. A privilege that they could no longer have. When the Biggest, Most Awful, Most Despair-Inducing Incident in human history came to fruition, there was no time for trivial things like watching a sunset. Every day melted into a flurry of rioting, fighting, and danger that could eat them alive if they weren’t careful. The students of Hope’s Peak Academy got the worst of it, and Makoto and Kyoko were no exception to this rule. Walking onto campus every morning was gambling for one’s life as the Parade clamoured for justice at the gates. Makoto’s own parents had been so terrified of him getting assaulted on his way from their house to the school that they’d begged the headmaster to set him up in a dorm for the time being. And since Jin Kirigiri was a slightly foolish, but not entirely unreasonable man, he obliged. In the end, however, it only made things a little better. He and Kyoko still promised to walk every day to and from class together every day, just to be sure that the other would arrive safely.

It was no real life that the two of them were living, but then again, they wondered if anybody’s life was much of anything at this point. This wave of anger that consumed more than just Tokyo. It reigned across the entirety of Japan, and bled even further. Neighbouring countries began to get caught up in the tide, and then their neighbours came in, and then their allies, and then their enemies. Before anyone could so much as breathe a word of soothing nature, the world had sliced itself open and soaked its people with its bloody rage. Now, all anyone could do was attempt to rinse themselves off and stitch up the wounds. There was nothing anyone could do about the fact that some were determined to keep opening new ones. Especially not at Hope’s Peak – as far as everyone was concerned, Jin offered the students as much protection as he could give.

Makoto just wished there was more. Not just on his side of things, but on the side of the Reserve Course students as well. He could have been in their shoes, had he not been so lucky. Hell, he probably would have been one of the students even further on the outside, who couldn’t even breathe the same air as a Hope’s Peak student. If they wanted to send him there on money alone, one of them would have had to fork over a kidney to the black market just to get enough. His family was not financially stable enough for that, and he felt certain that many of the Reserve Course kids were not that financially stable either. Yet there they were, clamouring even as the sun began to drift off to sleep. He wished they would, too. At the very least, he took comfort in the fact that their numbers were dwindling for the day.

“They look so small down there.”

Kyoko’s voice was flatter than soda in the sun. If he didn’t know her as well as he did, he might have thought her uninvested in the situation.

“They do.” He muttered; his gaze fixed on a pair of boys picking a fight with the head of security. The sight of their shouting and waving their fists made him cringe. Juzo Sakakura was an alumnus of Hope’s Peak; the Super High School Level Boxer to be more specific. Not exactly the kind of man that anyone should want to mess with, especially on account of his hot temper. Pity stirred within him when he thought about how this would end. “Sakakura-san will crush them like small bugs, too.”

She nodded curtly. “They should know better than to mess with him. He and the others have beaten up more than their fair share of Reserve Course students already.”

Makoto bit his lip, wishing he had it within himself to do something. He was a small fish in a big pond. What could he possibly do? There was no control to be had over this situation, and yet he craved it.

“I don’t know what they think that’s going to accomplish.”

“Well, my understanding is that they think this will earn them some sort of equality or change, but so far their attempts haven’t born fruit-”

“No,” he cut in, surprised even by his own interruption, “That’s not what I meant.”

She blinked at him; her expression unchanging. Not even a twitch of the eyebrow or the lip to tell him what she was thinking. The girl was somewhere beyond neutral at this point, but she didn’t seem keen on showing it. “What did you mean, then?”

“I don’t understand why the school hasn’t given in or tried to fix things. I’m surprised the police haven’t gotten involved,” heart thundering in his head, he continued, “Do you know if the school’s paying them hush money, or something?”

Ah. A frown etched itself into her face within a matter of seconds, clearly the product of dredged up memories. So there was a little bit of emotion hiding behind that iron mask. Her father had had a case for her a few weeks back, after all. Though she refused to share many details, what she did tell him was that he suspended the case rather abruptly. He even went as far as saying that he “wasn’t satisfied with her work”. Her eyes had been glassy when she told him that. Keeping himself from pulling her into his arms had been more difficult than one might have expected.

“I haven’t spoken to my father since the case.” Her eyebrows knitted themselves together as she glared at the students below. “Nor do I have any desire to speak to him again about much of anything.”

Makoto could think to do nothing else but nod. “I don’t blame you. You were pretty upset after the whole thing.”

“Should I not have been?” Her arms folded across her chest. “It was as if he gave me the case just to humiliate me by taking it away later. Not that it matters anyway. He doesn’t really care about the investigation. The one thing I know for certain is that he doesn’t care as much about the Steering Committee as he pretends he does.”

Why would he not do something if that were the case? Was he honestly just sitting around twiddling his thumbs? He definitely tried not to make his impressions on people he didn’t know based on what others told him, but this seemed a little too suspicious to swallow.

“What do you mean?” He dared to ask, shuffling slightly closer to her. Her refusal to meet his gaze remained rather blatant, but her face relaxed slowly.

“He has little impact on the school overall,” she sighed, tucking a strand of hair back into place, “Jin Kirigiri is Hope’s Peak headmaster in title more than anything. They attempt to take his ideas into account, but he is a figurehead first and foremost.”

“So he can’t do anything about the protests?”

Kyoko shrugged. “He probably has been trying to, but the committee will not allow him that privilege.”

His fingers gripped at his hoodie sleeves, as if to beg him to ground them in some way. If it weren’t for the cool air brushing delicately against his face, he might have thought himself to be in a movie scene. If Kyoko’s father really was doing all that he could, what chance did they have against the world? Things were already so close to falling off the edge into a chasm of desolation, and now nobody could do anything? The phantom sensation of a fist squeezed his throat. Part of him ached to reach his hand out to take hold of Kyoko’s own, feeling the smooth leather of her gloves against the palms of his hands. Would it be appropriate? She did still look pretty mad, but… god, he wanted to feel like everything around him was real for once. Throughout all of this chaos, she was one of a few things that reminded him that things were not as bad as he thought them to be.

Shutting his eyes, he turned away from the scene. A few steps away from the rooftop’s chained fence managed to soothe his nerves within mere seconds. It somehow caught Kyoko’s attention, too.

“I… I can’t watch them anymore.” He answered to the question she didn’t ask. Watching the Reserve Course students scream at shout like that is what they did all day in class and all day after. God, they needed a break from it. Regret stirred within him any time he drew himself back to the simpler days, when he took things like getting boba tea with Sayaka or rough housing with Mondo and Taka for granted. He’d give anything to go home and sit with his mom, and listen to those incredibly annoying women blather through their talk show. He missed the brief period of time in which his dad had begun to teach him how to drive, and the two would squabble over the controls and road safety. He even missed fighting with Komaru over who would get the TV on a Friday night, inducing many groans of frustrations from their parents. When all of these people were suffering, he knew was wrong to want it back, but… How could he not? Makoto’s heart was much too soft to comfortably look on as others suffered.

The clacking of Kyoko’s high-heeled boots against the stone tiles of the roof signalled to him that she, too, had found it easier to turn away. “I can understand that. I don’t fancy watching them either.”

“Kirigiri-san, could we…” To this surprise, his voice sounded like it was breaking. “Could we talk about something else? Something other than… whatever this is?”

The clacking echoed closer as she moved to stand at his side; her hand found a soothing spot on his shoulder. One simple movement, and relief crashed over him in a waterfall. Warmth spread through his chest and for one moment, he felt completely safe. After so many weeks of fear and struggling, he finally remembered the sensation. His grandmother used to say that that was how you knew you loved someone. If you could find comfort in their touch during your darkest times. He definitely had it bad for Kyoko Kirigiri. The lovesickness, as his grandfather might say.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” She spoke in a voice that felt like he was running his hand along a fleece blanket, taking in all of its softness. She tilted her body forward to try and get a good look at his face.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t stop himself from turning to meet her. “Anything, really. Preferably something happy.”

“Happy, hmm?” She tapped her chin, pursing her lips slightly. It was rare that one actually got to see the cogs turning in Kyoko’s mind, but it was always a sight to behold. “Umm… Sweden has a rabbit show all about jumping? I heard about it when my grandfather and I were there on a case when I was a girl. I think it might have been called Kaninhoppning?”

Makoto laughed, shaking his head. “That’s adorable.”

“It really is. Come to think of it, I have many happy memories from that trip… Although I never did get to see Kaninhoppning, I did manage to slip out onto our hotel room balcony for a half an hour to catch the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen.”

Having the chance to slip away from her grandfather on those trips was a rare occurrence, that he knew well. Though Makoto had never met Kyoko’s grandfather, he couldn’t say that he felt like he would particularly like the man. The manner in which he treated Kyoko as she grew felt strange to him, in the least. She even confessed to being connected to him more by blood than by love, much to Makoto’s shock.

“What did it look like?”

It became Kyoko’s turn to smile as she turned her head to the sky, extending a gloved hand to point at the atmosphere spread above them. “A lot like this one, I found. A smattering of colours.”

He followed suit, breathing in a calming breath as his eyes found a familiar sky. Puffs of pink and oranges sailed across the surface of blue like mystical ships in a vast ocean; sunlight breaking through like the heavens smiling down on them. Almost like proof that someone was still sitting up there, waiting to give this sign.

“It’s really something, isn’t it?”

She nodded, stepping closer to him and sliding her hand to his other shoulder. Oh god, she put her arm around him?! That made his heartbeat skip. He prayed his face hadn’t turned fire truck red. She would most definitely resort to teasing him if she caught wind of his embarrassment. Apart of him wonder if she could sense it, for only a few seconds later she tilted her head as if to rest on his shoulder. Rather than leave her there by herself, he moved his own to meet it.

“It is rather special, I agree,” she answered him with a smile, “Dare I say it, this is perhaps even more special than the one during my travels.”

God. That skin of his had definitely flushed red by now. It was a battle to avoid stuttering while he spoke, and a fight he lost easily. “R-Really? What m-makes this so special?”

Kyoko shrugged her shoulders; her voice pouring from her mouth like smooth molasses. “I’m here with you.”

Butterflies began to beat around his stomach the moment the words fell from her lips. Ack! Don’t think about her lips, he commanded himself internally. The last thing he needed was thinking about kissing those soft, full lips… a pair so perfectly rose in colour and that probably would feel so sweet against his own… Aah! No kissing, no kissing! She wanted to try and be his friend, and he was worrying about kissing. He should have been worried about thinking what to say. Could she tell that he was thinking about that?

A quick glance at her out of the corner of his eye told him no; Kyoko Kirigiri was not a mind reader. Very adept at reading body language, but she could not telepathically tell that someone was thinking about kissing her. However, he had to admit that she could definitely tell that he was nervous. So much so that she started to apologize.

“Sorry,” she muttered, darting her gaze to the floor, “I hadn’t mean to embarrass you.”

He waved his hands around frantically. “No, no! I’m not embarrassed, you just… caught me off-guard, that’s all. I like hearing you say stuff like that. You’re a lot more sentimental than you let on.”

The detective bit her lip awkwardly, doing her best to act like her face was not slowly growing poppy-red. The sight of her made him have to fight to suppress a few giggles. She has no right to be this cute, he thought with amusement. Even stereotypically cute girls like Sayaka couldn’t rival the sheer adorability of his Kyoko.

“I’ve never really thought about myself like that… Would you consider it a good thing?”

Makoto laughed and nuzzled her shoulder affectionately. “It’s a great thing. In fact, it’s something I like about you.”

“I like that about you too,” she murmured, her voice cracking as she continued, “Your sentimentality, I mean. Not mine, that would be… that would be strange, wouldn’t it?”

Oh, how the tables had turned. Now Kyoko was the one standing there, totally embarrassed. Though it had been him only for a moment earlier, he wondered if it were wrong to relish it. Seeing Kyoko flustered was as rare as Shikoku’s glowing mushroom forests; one could barely help wanting to take in all of the charm.

“It would be, yeah,” he laughed, “I’m glad you like that about me, though. In fact, I’d like to ask you something about it.”

Kyoko nodded ever so slightly, careful not to hurt either of their heads with the movement. “Of course.”

“Kirigiri-san, would you promise me something?”

“As long as it’s not to help you cover up a murder, most certainly.”

He laughed. Ever blunt, as always. “No, nothing like that. I just… I want you to promise me that no matter what happens next, that you and I will always be there to support each other. Could you do that for me?”

Though he expected a moment of hesitation, he was met with none. Only a smile greeted him alongside her words. “I’m surprised that you felt as if you had to ask. I would do that for you in a heart beat.”

Makoto pressed his cheek further into her shoulder. “I never doubted you.”

#naegiri2020 #danganronpa #naegiri #danganronpa 3 #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #makoto x kyoko #naegi x kirigiri #despair arc #kyouko kirigiri #naegi makoto #kirigiri kyoko

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geekgirles · 4 years

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Better Than I Know Myself

While I, admittedly, have enough songs that I believe would best fit Betrothed by @tipolover22 to create a playlist, there’s this one song I am convinced is perfect to describe Branch’s POV when it comes to his marriage to Poppy:

Better Than I Know Myself by Adam Lambert.

This is an analysis on the song written from the fic’s point of view, so it’s gonna be heavy on spoilers. So I’d recommend you read the story before reading this.

If people asked me why I think this song is perfect, I believe breaking down the lyrics is the best way to explain my point.

It starts out like this:

Cold as ice

And more bitter than a December

Winter night

That's how I treated you

Coincidentally, it starts just like the first arc of Betrothed; getting Branch to let go of his bitterness and start warming up to Poppy. This first verse reflects Branch’s train of thought up until chapter 6:

We all know Branch ignored Poppy, belittled her, was rude to her because of superfluous details like their different upbringings (and yes, I do consider that to be superfluous because they already knew about that when they decided to unite both kingdoms) or superficial traits (i.e. Poppy being pink), during the first few chapters he didn’t treat her or view her as his equal! And judging by how this becomes a source of regret and shame to Branch, it doesn’t seem so crazy to believe he would mention this aspect of their relationship in a song meant to express his true feelings for her.

Then, it comes the second verse:

And I know that I

I sometimes tend to lose my temper

And I cross the line

Yeah that's the truth

Now this focuses more on describing an established flaw of Branch’s, one he doesn’t display solely on Poppy, although she has been on the receiving end as well.

Branch has a relatively short temper. Simple as that.

He’s lost it at Poppy, especially before their breakthrough; he’s lost it at Mulberry whenever his antics went a little too far (like arguing with Arum in chapter 8, or accidentally bringing up Poppy’s refusal to kiss Branch in chapter 16), he’s, understandably, lost it at Creek (in this case it was a righteous anger, considering Creek’s attempts at getting under his skin or trying to steal Poppy from him)...

And as a result of his temper he crosses the line, something he ends up regretting one way or another.

When it comes to the times Poppy’s been at the receiving end of his anger, the most notable example would be, no doubt about it, the mandolin. He threw it away when his mind was too clouded by anger to think things through and he came to regret it immediately, not only because it crushed Poppy and only made matters worse between them, but also because it became something that would be brought up ever since.

As for Creek, whenever Branch’s let his words and actions get under his skin, it’s always had disastrous consequences.

Hadn’t Poppy taken things in stride, destroying the pedestal he built in chapter 10 would’ve made him look like an impatient brute.

In chapter 11 he was so blinded by his hurt and fury he didn’t hear Poppy and Suki approaching just as he punched Creek for taunting him, which led to a very serious argument with Poppy and a whole week of heartbreak for the two.

And, finally, in chapter 19, after finding out Creek tried to kiss Poppy while he was away, he almost killed him. And, as Creek pointed out, had he done it and his marriage with Poppy would forever be tainted by it, since Poppy would never be able to forgive Branch for killing him.

In other words, in this verse he’s acknowledging his flaws and apologising for them.

Now we have the bridge:

I know it gets hard sometimes

But I could never

Leave your side

No matter what I say

Again, if Branch were to sing this to Poppy, he’d be referencing how their marriage is a special case that required a lot of work before they became the power couple we they are today. Because, like all good things, they had to work very hard and compromise to achieve their happiness, but it was more than worth it. However, even if they are in love now, Branch is assuring Poppy that, no matter what, he will always fight for what they have, because he loves her and he can’t go back to living without her.

Which brings us to the chorus:

'Cause if I wanted to go

I would've gone by now but

I really need you near me

To keep my mind off the edge

If I wanted to leave

I would've left by now

But you're the only one that knows me

Better than I know myself

Leaving aside that they were bound to being together for their respective kingdom’s sake, it is true that, if things between them were really as terrible as Branch originally made them out to be, he could’ve just kept on living his life separately from Poppy. But, despite everything, early chapters and later chapters referencing earlier ones show he had actually started warming up to her long before Poppy finally snapped. In chapter 4 he was momentarily cranky because Poppy wasn’t in bed with him, even silently debating whether pink was a good or a bad colour. In chapter 13 we found out he kept and fixed the invitation she made him (reflecting canon) and started working on a new mandolin for her (and since it was never cleared up just when exactly he started working on it, it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch to believe it happened even before he fell for her). Not to mention, chapter 17 reveals Branch didn’t burn down the invitation because 1) it was customised for him, and 2) when he looked at it he felt somebody actually cared.

Another thing that proves that no matter how bad things get in their relationship Branch would never want to leave Poppy is chapter 12; as soon as he tries to claim she means nothing to him after she rejected him he berates himself for such a lie; she means the world to him.

The chorus also reflects the special place in Branch’s heart Poppy holds: for a very long time, ever since they became closer, his wife is the only troll Branch allows himself to be vulnerable in front of. One of the best examples would be chapters 20 and 21.

In chapter 20, in contrast to his parents in chapter 12, who had to coax him into opening up about his problems with them; Branch voluntarily opened up to Poppy about Sprite’s situation after bonding together as a little family. In fact, Poppy never tried to force Branch to tell her what was wrong, she just wanted to cheer him up, which then resulted in him lowering his defenses enough to be honest and cry* in front of her. Something similar happened in chapter 21, Branch now trusts Poppy enough to actually let his guard down around her to the point he allows himself to have a panic attack in front of her! Something he hasn’t shown to anyone else! Pre-character development Branch would never!

*It should be noted that, while Branch has cried in front of others before (namely his parents), the amount of times he’s shown his vulnerable side to Poppy easily surpasses this.

The final verse of the chorus is the key: while they still have a long way to go before they can completely see eye to eye, Poppy knows Branch better than most people, even better than his fellow Forest trolls.

There’s also the third verse:

All along

I tried to pretend it didn't matter

If I was alone

This is obviously a part of Prince! Branch’s personality that is entirely faithful to canon Branch, but perhaps it may even be taken up to eleven with the added weight of a royal’s responsibilities on his shoulders.

One of the biggest contrasts between Poppy and Branch in Betrothed is the way they both try to hide their inner struggles from their people; Branch puts on an armor of seriousness and authority thanks to a perpetual scowl and abrasive personality, while Poppy hides her worries behind a positive attitude and a smile.

However, as a result of their different upbringings, Poppy is more prone to asking for help when things become too much for her to handle, unlike Branch, who prefers to deal with things on his own. He pretends to be able to and prefer to handle the responsibilities and burdens of his status all by himself.

Thankfully, an important part of Poppy’s role in their relationship is showing Branch that he is not alone; he has her now and they are a team. As husband and wife they are in this together. Something it’s very clear Branch is very grateful for.

And then there’s the fourth verse:

Deep down I know

If you were gone

For even a day I wouldn't know which way to turn

'Cause I'm lost without you

This verse, this whole verse is chapter 12. Hands down.

Because Branch admitted several times throughout the chapter that he didn’t know what to do without Poppy. Just remembering what he loved about her was enough to almost have him breaking down in tears, the longer he was away from her, the grumpier he got; heck, he couldn’t even sleep without her in his arms!

And, just like the song says, this was all in one day! One day without his wife and he became a wreck!

Hang in there, fellas! We’re almost done!

Let’s analyse the fifth verse, shall we? I get kind of dark

Let it go too far

I can be obnoxious at times

But try and see my heart

This verse combines the several hints where Branch acted like he doesn’t think he’s good enough for Poppy due to past mistakes (namely, his line, “I don’t deserve you.” from chapter 20), and the details from his past we have yet to see. Because, hey, this is Trolls with a sped up Broppy and a little extra drama, we are bound to see some dark stuff.

And, finally, we have the sixth verse:

'Cause I need you now

So don't let me down

You are the only thing in this world

I would die without

Because Poppy is his everything. Because she’s the one person he’s always needed by his side, even when he didn’t know it. Because she’s the love of his life. And what better way to prove it than sing it to her?

So, yeah. If anyone were to ask me which song I think would best describe Branch and Poppy’s relationship in Betrothed from the former’s point of view, I’d say, without an inch of a doubt, Better Than I Know Myself by Adam Lambert.

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls analysis #trolls fanfiction #trolls fanfic #Betrothed #Betrothed Trolls #Poppy #Branch #Broppy #OCs #Creek #Song analysis #Better Than I Know Myself #adam lambert

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tessimagines · 5 years

Text

After All This // Bill Weasley - Epilogue

Pairing: Bill Weasley x Moody!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) and Bill take a trip to visit Moody’s memorial, but this time, with a new little Weasley in tow.

You can find the series masterlist in my bio!

Warnings: fluff and the tiniest tad of angst.

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: And this series has officially come it its end. I am so appreciative of all of you who have read, commented and supported me throughout the process of writing this series. It is one of my favourite things I have ever written and I will cherish it for ages. You guys really play a much bigger role in this series than you realise, if it wasn’t for your continuous support and encouragement, I wouldn't have been able to finish this series. So this final piece is dedicated to all of you, thank you.

PS. I know I just posted the last part last night but I wrote this and wanted to share it with you :)

April 14th, 2000

Little Alastor Fred Weasley topples over as he reaches his grandparent’s memorial, his chubby little hand still firmly grasped by his father. Bill bends over and picks his son up, dusting the little pieces of dried grass off his white and blue plaid shirt. You smile as your husband looks over at you, his eyes crinkled with joy at the little son he holds in his arms.

The three of you sit down amongst the wildflowers that continue to grow around your father’s memorial. It’s a simple plaque, a round piece of stone bare of any eccentricity. Instead, the blue, red and white wildflowers that litter the base and its surroundings brighten up the area, giving the place a feel of humble beauty.

The sun is shining, beams of its light bouncing off the ginger hair of your husband and son. He looks so much like Bill, the ginger locks and shape of face. But his eyes are dark, so similar to the deep brown of your father that you have to double-take when you see them sometimes.

Alastor sits pulling out an assortment of wildflowers, his knees gathering dirt as he crawls around in the area between you and Bill. There is a smile as wide as a full moon on his face at the sight of all the colourful petals around him. You lean over and place a kiss to the top of his head, your lips meeting his soft, silky hair.

“Pa,” he says, placing the flowers at the foot of the plaque, “Nan.” Born just over a year ago, he contains enough cheekiness to last him his entire life. He is so smart too, finding ways every day to make both you and Bill the proudest parents who have ever lived. He’d make them proud too, Alastor and Adeline - just as much as he makes Molly and Arthur, the first of their many grandchildren who are bound to follow.

Bill pats his son’s head, spreading out the ginger hair on top of it. “You have the same eyes as your Pa, Alastor. The one who has the same name as you.”

Little Alastor points to his dark brown eyes, dirt on his finger. “Eyes,” he says, looking up at his father. Both you and Bill clap, smiles on your faces at your son who seems to be learning new words every day. Alastor smiles too at the reaction, a proud and satisfied look on his face.

The three of you sit there amongst the flowers and grass, a picnic basket with lunch spread out between you. An entire afternoon passes, every moment filled with laughter, Alastor taking a few, clumsy steps into the arms of but his mother and father. When he collapses into them, he places a sloppy kiss to your cheek before getting back up and trying his best to walk over to Bill again.

As the sun begins to set, Bill gets up and takes Alastor for a little walk around the field. The memorial is placed where your father grew up in Scotland, a field where a cousin of your father had said he would spend his younger days pretending to be an Auror and hunting down dangerous wizards and witches. And apparently, it was a place where your father would take your mother every summer, the two lazing around just as you, Bill and your son had done today.

As Alastor toddles around the field, his hand tightly secured in his fathers, you reach a hand up and place it on the stone plaque, moving your hand over the names of your parents.

“Hey, Dad,” You say, your throat tight and constricted. Three years have passed and it still causes you to get emotional. “Hey, Mum. A few things have happened in the last month since we were here. Alastor just keeps on growing, I think he’ll be taller than both you and Bill one day. He doesn’t stop babbling on either, and he is always adding new words to his list. He learnt Nan and Pa about two weeks ago and hasn’t stopped saying them.”

You laugh, brushing strands of loose hair behind your ear. “You would both love him. I wish you could have met him if only for a moment, you know? But don’t worry, Molly and Arthur spoil him rotten enough for two sets of grandparents.”

It’s only then that you notice you’ve been ripping the petals off of the wildflowers in front of you. They coat the white cotton of your dress, a mixture of red, blue and white shining back up at you. You take another deep breath and continue.

“There is a picture of the two of you on the little table by his cot. Every morning when he wakes up and I start to dress him, he points at it. And since he learnt the words, he’ll point to you two and say ‘Pa’ and ‘Nan’. He doesn’t understand what the two of you have done for him just yet, but Bill and I are going to make sure he does when he is older.”

You smile, thinking of all the times your son has done that in the past months. One time, as you struggled to put him into bed, he reached across and grabbed it, placing a kiss to the faces of his grandparents in the picture. You place a hand to your stomach with a glance to where your husband and son play amongst the grass.

“Oh, and I’m pregnant. Bill thinks it’ll be a little girl this time, he’s hanging for a daughter. Alastor doesn’t quite understand whats going on, but I think he will when my belly starts to grow.”

You watch as Bill throws your son into the air, Alastor’s squeals audible from where you sit a little while away. The happiness you feel when you watch the two of them like that, their interaction so pure and sweet, is hard to contain. You almost feel it swell in your chest and burst free. You wipe away the stray tears on your cheek and let loose a light laugh, placing your lips to the stone plaque in a short kiss. When you speak again, it’s a whisper.

“Thanks, Dad.” The words are only for him and you let yourself cry as you say them, silent tears falling with every word that passes your lips. “For everything. You gave your life so that this one was possible for me, and I am so eternally grateful.”

You rub the stone one last time, standing up with the picnic basket hanging off your arm. The grass and wildflowers tickle your bare legs as you walk towards the two people that are the centre of everything for you, Bill holding his son so close to his chest. The sight warms you from the inside out, the lowering sunshine still lingering on your skin. When you reach them, Bill wraps an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in to place a kiss to the top of your head.

“Ready?” He asks, tucking strands of your (h/c) hair behind your ear.

You smile, your pink lips so close to his that he wants to lean in and kiss them. “Ready.”

“Ready,” Alastor copies. You and Bill laugh, your eyes catching in that shared, proud look that only parents can truly understand.

Bill ruffles his hair before grabbing your hand and leading you away from the field filled with wildflowers, your father’s little legacy resting snuggly between you.

There you have it, folks. This series is officially over. Thank you for sharing this with me. Please let me know what you thought of the ending down below, I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts.

If you would like to have a say in what my next Harry Potter x Reader series should be, you can find a poll containing a few ideas on my Tumblr page. You can read through them and cast your vote in my inbox.

Again, I want to thank you, the reader, for making this series a possibility.

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#harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #hp imagines #hp x reader #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagines #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley oneshots #hphm #hphm imagines #hphm x reader #hogwarts mystery imagines #hogwarts mystery x reader #after all this #tessimagines

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spectral-ask-memes · 4 years

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🥊🍅💥🏀☀️🌙⭐🍏💧🔮🌸🌺 💜💗💗💗 for either your favorite oc or your least favorite! or both!

i almost said montresor was my least favourite which is Such A Lie because i accidentally got attached and i’m very glad he ends up being Significantly Less Bad than he initially was

anyways. it’s all under the cut (crossing my fingers that it actually works properly) (and i think i’ll answer for annabel and arthur)

🥊 Does your OC prefer to take the lead or follow orders? With everyone or just with certain people? Is there a reason for this?

annabel doesn’t really... choose? she’s fairly smart and tends to consider that the things they’re all going to do will have an effect on other people and what will happen later. she ends up being one of the bigger characters and part of the main group that actually Knows What’s Going On and, by extension, somewhat a leader?

arthur was more of a leader back when he was sailing, and as he got older he was more okay with sitting back and letting things happen. granted, that also possibly got him killed (well, not really. but if you go with the original story, it is)

🍅 How easily is your OC embarassed? What subjects make them flush and why? What event has made your OC the most embarassed they’ve ever been?

i would say that annabel lee isn’t embarrassed too easily? she knows what she’s done, and the embodiment of death is willing to actually physically fight someone for her. that’s not to say that she can’t be embarrassed, though

arthur... just doesn’t tell you. you can’t find anything to make him embarrassed simply because you don’t know anything about him. he’s very good at keeping it as secretive as possible (not necessarily on purpose. he probably thought he told montresor)

💥 Are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? Any reason behind this?

annabel lee tries to be happier, at least in the first part, and tries to just. ignore negative emotions. but she eventually learns how to deal with the more negative emotions. in the first part, she’s also not quite sure about montresor--she loves him, and at that point they’re almost like cousins or siblings. but at one point, it seems as if montresor has just been going around and committing Crimes (they think he’s murdering people.) and she has to figure out how to work through the “he’s practically my brother and i don’t know that he would do this?” and what appears to be in front of her (it ends up okay though). because i personally find emotions difficult and have trouble putting words to them it is also difficult for me to put the right words in the correct order, but i think that this is (at the very least, for a segment of the story) a good summary

arthur,,, i honestly don’t know that we get enough of him to tell? probably the emotions he didn’t express. wait that’s more of a Regret? so then, arguably, affection, but he’s spent time trying to work through that (and raised Montresor, and did a fairly decent job of it, in the end)

🏀 Does your OC have any skills that people wouldn’t expect them to have? Do they have a hobby or pass time that others would consider strange or weird? How did they learn this particular skill or pick up this hobby?

people probably look at annabel and expect her to be Very Soft (which, yeah, she is, she’s a very kind and affectionate person). but she’s also very much a badass? she likes swimming and rock/shell collecting, and also found that she enjoyed helping dupin with Investigating quite a bit

arthur likes to sail. he enjoys exploring and Not-Dying.

☀️ How well does your OC take care of themself? Do they tend to put others before their own wellbeing and if so how often? What is their favourite way to pamper themself?

annabel lee!! is very much!! a person that thinks self care is important!! and i love her!! so much!! she does try to take care of others, but she’s also learned that she needs to have Limits and take care of herself too.

arthur went from “probably selfish, puts himself above others” to “adopted a little boy who was abandoned by his father and would now give him almost anything probably” and we love that development, except that sometimes it might possibly be bad? as in, it helps play into the “Montresor Actually Murdered Him” narrative (as well as possibly the real narrative, in which arthur got sick and probably sent montresor away so that he wouldn’t catch it, which plays into some Other Things that we don’t need to get into right now because it’s. a lot)

🌙 What are some of your OC’s favourites? Favourite food, colour, season, stuff like that! Give some general simple facts that tend to get overlooked!

annabel lee likes cookies, pastel colours (pink/blue/yellow/purple specifically, and also some brighter ones? it depends sometimes), and spring. she likes to garden, i think! she and her fiancee have a nice house and a garden that they work on together and it’s very good :) (also, i like to think that she and her girlfriend [now fiancee] probably tried to propose to each other at the same time)

arthur probably also likes cookies but thinks brownies are neat too, he likes blue/grey/green/gold/magenta, and summer. he also adopted montresor after montresor’s mother died and his father abandoned him, so that’s Very Good Content. arthur really is doing his best,,, (it’s also taken me until this question to realise that i do have a least favourite, and that least favourite is either prospero [MURDERED] or fortunato [MURDERED] but it’s okay)

⭐ Does your OC like to sleep alone or do they enjoy sharing their bed? Have they been to any sleepovers? Have they ever been camping? What did they think of the experiences if so?

annabel lee! very much enjoys cuddling!! she likes to have the Friend Group over for big sleepovers and they probably have big cuddle piles (and they deserve them, honestly). i think all of the characters have sort of been camping? in her case, it was probably with lenore and dupin

arthur tends to sleep alone, save for a few times at sea. he has been camping, and probably took montresor a few times when he was a child.

🍏 When your OC says “I had a bad day” what does that tend to mean? Is it really as bad as they’re saying or are they being a bit dramatic?

when annabel lee says she had a bad day, it means that she definitely had a bad day (although there are probably some occasions on which she might be being a little dramatic, because that’s fun sometimes)

arthur won’t tell you how his day is going, because it probably slips his mind. he’s got a lot he’s trying to take care of, and really, he doesn’t have that many bad days now?

💧 What is something from your OC’s past they’re the most ashamed of and why? What is something they’re really proud of? And lastly what is something in their past that could make them shake with dread?

annabel lee is probably ashamed of the time montresor was convinced she was dead (although that wasn’t her fault). she’s proud of her friend group and how they’ve managed half of what they did.

arthur is ashamed of some of the things he did while sailing (i’m still finishing his backstory + reading the thing for him and stuff). he’s proud of his son and raising him :,)

🔮What does your OC think is their best trait. What is actually their best trait? What about their flaws? Are they one to admit these flaws or do they like to pretend they’re perfect?

i’m going to be honest: i haven’t really thought about what they think their best and worst traits are, simply because it hasn’t come up yet in the story? but:

annabel lee probably thinks her best trait is her memory? she makes a point to remember certain details about her friends, and also things for helping with cases. really, though, she’s also incredibly brave (pluto straight up tells her they’re the embodiment of death, and instead of being terrified, she tells them that it’s cool and asks if they’d like a cookie. i love her). going hand in hand with her bravery, though, it can lead to her being a bit reckless at times? she’s a bit hesitant to admit it, but she will.

arthur is willing to listen and change if he needs to, and is wiling to educate himself. i would agree that it’s probably his best trait (again, we don’t get a Lot of him, especially not where i’m at in the story right now, though). his worst trait is arguably how much trust he can put into people now.

🌸 What’s a sentence that would make your OC’s day better? One that would make them laugh? One that would make their day worse? Why? What words would you have to say to them to completely ruin their day?

for annabel lee, the first really varies. probably something along the lines of “we were successful/didn’t die”. there are many sentences that could make her laugh, depending on who said them and the way they were said. she does find the initial conversation about victor amusing, though, i think (i’m still working on that scene). also how pluto references various other works of literature, she finds some of those amusing. i think one of her (and my own, if i’m being entirely honest) favourites is probably when pluto stops mid-sentence while they’re talking about something important and just kind of goes. “wait. are those two guys still waiting? we have to make sure, we can’t let godot get there”. one that would ruin her day is almost definitely someone else dying or getting injured.

arthur is an enigma, even to me. but in somewhat seriousness: he’d probably be happier if someone told him something good happened, in general? like montresor telling him about making a new friend. he is also rather amused by the fact that montresor has dated a fair share of his friend group (and one of them was on accident). he was pretty bummed about getting murdered/sick and dying.

🌺 What additions would your OC make to their body if they could? Lets say, if they don’t have a tail would they want one? Wings? Horns? Do they wish they could shapeshift?

annabel lee is working through learning to love herself as she is, and would rather Not. she wants wings. and is definitely planning on tattoos, if she doesn’t already have some, probably. she thinks being able to shapeshift would be Neat.

there was a time when arthur wanted to be able to breathe underwater.

💗 Ramble a bit about this character!

god,,, i just love annabel,,, so much,,, she’s very good!!!! she’s my badass child and i love her so much. pluto almost definitely fights someone for her. honestly most of this has just been me rambling about her

#not an ask game #not an ask meme #not a request #ask #i answered a thing

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

How Far I'll Go - Chapter 1 (Nina West/Monet X Change) - Meggie, Mia Ugly

A/N: Nina West gets the redemptive musical love story he deserves.

Chapter 1 - chase anything that glitters

The finale is over, and Nina West is drinking alone.

Well not - alone alone. Clearly. He’s in a bar that’s packed to standing room only with queens from all the seasons, as well as the World of Wonder and VH1 employees that managed to get tickets. The after-party and the after-after-party have been going strong for hours, and Nina has been bubbly and humble and as charming as he possibly can be after spending this long in a corset. (He has a bit of a meltdown when he meets Latrice but that was a long time coming. Like ten literal years in the making.)

But eventually the day catches up with him, and the constant smile starts to crack like a windshield, and Nina finds himself sitting at the bar alone. Which is okay. He’s exhausted, and the arches of his feet ache, and if he has to answer one more question about Branjie he might clench his teeth so hard he cracks a molar.

So he may not be alone alone, but he’s alone in a way he can feel (in his hands, his ribs, his heart).

Even then, he’s not alone for long.

“Hey there, Miss Congeniality.” Monet X Change slides up to him at the bar, looking like he was dipped in honey. “Werk. Congratulations girl.”

“Thank you.” Nina would ordinarily be beyond intimidated to meet the latest AllStars winner, a dream of his ever since Monet was crowned. But tonight, after the finale and the hours of making small-talk, Nina’s feeling so much that there’s no room beneath his skin for anything else. His whole body is vibrating. “You look fantastic.”

“You too. Giving me paper doll realness, honey. And I am living for this colour.” Monet’s smile is a bit soft around the edges, and there’s a glass of champagne in his hand. He sings a line from that Janelle Monae song Nina loves: “Pink like the holes in your heart… So how you feeling?”

“Good,” Nina says, even though that word does not come close to the truth of it. “Great. It’s been such an honour -”

“Listen to you, all congenial. Miss me with those sound-bites, girl. How you really feeling?”

“Nina - we’re taking off,” A’Keria interrupts before Nina can answer, hand resting gently on Nina’s shoulder. Slightly behind him stands Vanjie, arms crossed protectively around himself. He’s smiling at Nina, but it doesn’t quite match his eyes.

“Gotta get my beauty sleep,” Vanjie mutters. “Plus I ain’t see no trade in here - present company excepted, course.”

He comes forward to kiss Nina on both cheeks. “Tell your girl not to go home with no serial killers.”

Vanjie nods toward the far corner of of the crowded bar, and he and A’Keria walk off to where Silky is waiting for them by the doors. When Nina follows the direction of Vanjie’s nod, he sees Brooke with a cocktail in his hand, close-talking with a lumberjack-looking hipster that Nina doesn’t recognize.

Shit. Poor Vanjie.

It’s one thing to be cool with each other, to be friends. It’s another thing entirely to watch Brooke move on.

Nina winces out a smile. His heart aches for Vanessa. His heart aches for absolutely no other reason.

When Nina turns back to Monet, the other queen is watching him closely, eyebrow raised.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“What? Oh! Them? Yeah, too bad it didn’t work out. They were basically adorable and the fans -”

“Nah, nah, not that.” Monet finishes his champagne. “What’s your deal with, uh - tall, blonde and emotionally constipated over there? You and Brooke weren’t ever -”

“God, no. No. Not like - that.” People that look like me don’t end up with people that look like him, he hears a voice in the back of his mind whisper. He hates that voice, paper soft and sinister. He’s heard it before, thought he’d kicked it to the curb and left it behind after his college days, but it followed along in his shadow. (Sometimes Nina feels like no matter how far he’s come, there are stories that travel with him.) “We like - once.”

“Once? Once what? I fucking knew it by the way.”

“Just kissed. Messed around. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Monet snags two new glasses of champagne from a passing server. He puts one down in front of Nina, and drains half of the other in one swallow. “I see you, girl. You might be pretty in pink but those shoulders don’t lie. All slumped over.”

Deny, deny, deny. That was Nina’s first rule. The whole Brooke thing was years ago, anyway, and that particular wound has long scarred over. Maybe there was a moment on that first day of Drag Race where Nina thought that this was some sort of sign (he does that sometimes, forgets that this is real life and not a romantic comedy or Disney film) but - it’s in the past.

“We’re friends,” Nina says simply.

“Great,” Monet says in a tone that clearly states he doesn’t believe a word Nina is saying. “Well then. Tequila?”

They end up shutting down the bar. That’s not something Nina does often - or, like, ever. When he’s at the club he is at work, he is fundraising, or shaking hands and making connections, or getting petitions signed, forcing all the trendy apolitical gays to give a damn about something.

He is not sitting with queens in sunshine-yellow dresses, ignoring the rest of the world while getting slowly wasted on tequila and laughing so hard his makeup runs.

Monet is fucking funny. Nina knew he was funny, loved him on both seasons, but it’s different up close. When Monet starts reading the queens in the room Maya Angelou-style, Nina almost falls off his stool.

At some point Brooke and whoever he’s going home with come to say goodbye (Brooke wraps his arms around Nina, says “I love you, love you, love you,” three times against his jaw). Nina can smell the cigarette smoke on his breath, the whisky on his mouth.

“Love you too,” Nina says, only a little bit worried.

As Brooke drags his skinny lumberjack away, Nina hears him slur something that sounds like “gotta find Vanjie before we leave.” That’s going to be a long and fruitless search, but Nina leaves him to it. He watches the pair go (pretends that he isn’t).

It may be an old scar, but old scars still ache from time to time. This one does. Smarts. Worms its way into Nina’s heart like tendrils, squeezes tight, compresses. He knows it’s platonic love he and Brooke share, but there was a time, before Vanjie but during Drag Race when maybe for a minute he thought— Stop.

If Vanessa Vanjie Matteo wasn’t good enough for Brooke, then the rest of the world hasn’t got a hope in hell.

“What are you doing after this, Nina West?”

All thoughts of Brooke aside (still rolling just under the surface), Nina likes the way Monet says his first and last name together. He likes that kitty-cat wig with the finger waves that Monet is wearing, looking like Clara Bow in some black and white film. He likes a lot of things right now, but unlike Brooke, Nina is drunk.

“What am I doing? Back to Columbus for a bit. Hosting a finale party and then… and then. Then the tour! Yes, that.”

“Did you just forget about your own tour?” Monet laughs, low and delighted. “Girl, you’re in trouble.”

“So much trouble,” Nina confides, reaching out to put a hand on Monet’s arm. “Just - scads of it.”

“‘Scads?’” Monet laughs again, “You age one-hundred years every time you drink?”

“Every time!”

Monet shakes his head, rolling his eyes a bit (but not in a mean way. In kind of a charming way. Nina likes a lot of things right now.)

“I didn’t mean after the show is over. I meant - like tonight. What are you doing after this?”

“Oh.” Nina blinks. This can’t be - “Oh.”

“You want to get out of here?” Monet is watching him with dark-lidded eyes, no laughter on his face any more. His lips part, and Nina stares at his purple lipstick and thinks yes and then a beat later please. Because he is a gentleman.

“I’m drunk,” Nina says in the spirit of full disclosure.

“You think I’ve got some miracle liver? Me too. I’m fine with it if you are.”

“Okay.” If they’re both drunk it’s fine. As long as they - talk about it first. It’s fine. “Um. Okay.” Nina realizes he hasn’t moved his hand off of Monet’s arm. Now that he notices, it’s all he can think about.

How does someone do this? Should they leave at the same time? Separate times? The lights in the bar are coming on, and the last few stragglers are starting to go. Most of the girls from Season 11 have already left, God knows how long ago. Nina didn’t even notice.

“I’m in room 1518,” Monet thankfully interrupts Nina’s panic. “You should come by.” He moves his arm out from underneath Nina’s fingertips, and Nina instantly misses the warmth of his skin. Monet grabs his clutch, weaves out of the bar without a backwards glance, and Nina takes a few moments to jump headfirst back into that panic spiral.

He hasn’t done something like this in - a very long time. He isn’t really a casual sex kind of person. He won’t say no to it, obviously, but - it’s been awhile.

He’s been busy.

Come on, girl, he tells himself, just act like people proposition you in bars everyday. Just act like this is a totally normal thing that you do, because you are a normal person.

Nina waits and panics for another ten minutes, before he gets up from his stool like a normal person would. He casually, elegantly (not at all unsteady on his heels) leaves the bar. Normally. He takes the elevator alone, in silence, to the fifteenth floor.

His knock on room 1518 is so hesitant that it’s basically inaudible. No one hears it and he’s forced to knock again. He waits in the brightly lit hallway, feeling like a football player in pink, until the door opens.

Monet’s holding a makeup wipe, and his face is shining, paint off. He’s changed out of his dress, taken off his padding. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Nina immediately feels like an idiot.

“Oh,” Monet says, “You’re still in - all that.”

Shit. Fuck. “I - yes. Sorry. I should have -”

“No, I -” Monet takes a step closer. “Told you I was living for that colour.”

Then he puts his hands on either side of Nina’s face and kisses him.

It’s a good kiss. Warm and tasting a bit like mint (Monet must have brushed his teeth). Monet’s lips are soft and gentle, grasping Nina’s own as if he doesn’t mind the taste of tequila and anxiety. He doesn’t make any attempt to deepen things - keeps the kiss sweet, keeps his hands on Nina’s face. His hands are warm too.

“You wanna come in?” Monet asks when he pulls back, and Nina has forgotten how to make words happen. So he just nods. Lets Monet pull him forward gently, close the door behind him.

They start kissing again right away, just standing there in the middle of the room. Nina loses himself a bit in it, closes his eyes and lets the tequila do the thinking for him. He sucks Monet’s tongue into his mouth and Monet lets out a soft gasp that - yeah, that’ll work. Now that tongues are involved, the kissing gets harder, nothing tentative about it. Teeth pull on Nina’s lower lip, the edge of his jaw, tease their way down his neck. It’s good. It feels good, and he has to bite his mouth shut to stop himself from saying as much out loud.

Monet pulls away suddenly, and Nina just stares at him. He wobbles slightly, and steps out of his heels before he falls down.

“You’re probably still all - strapped in, hey?” Monet’s eyes are a bit unfocused, moving over Nina’s face. “Do you want to change? Take your paint off? I should have asked.”

Nina feels like an idiot again. Why the hell didn’t he go to his room first?

“Thanks. I’ll just -” He gestures to the bathroom, and Monet gives him a look.

“I’ve seen it all, girl. Let me get your zipper for you.”

Nina’s lips sting and his heart is racing. Getting out of drag in front of someone kind of kills the mystery. Not that Nina feels his body is any great piece of artwork to be slowly revealed but it’s not really a sexy process. Maybe it’s different when you look like Aquaria or Yvie or something but - Nina’s album is called “Drag is Magic” for a reason.

Despite all of this (blame the tequila just - always, for everything) he turns around.

Moves his wig to the side so that Monet can slide the zipper of his dress down his spine. It makes goosebumps break out all over Nina’s arms, and the dress falls to the floor. When Nina turns back around to pick it up, Monet is still standing there, a bit closer than before. They look at each other. Monet reaches forward to take off each of Nina’s massive crystal earrings, putting them carefully on the nightstand.

Nina just - stands there. Stands there as Monet unhooks his cincher, rolls his hip-pads down his legs, takes his tights along with them. Stands there as Monet drops to his knees in front of Nina, gently pulling down his underwear.

The dress was loose enough the Nina didn’t need to tape anything or do much of a tuck, and he’s fucking grateful for that. Still, as he glances down at himself, he sees a body covered with angry red lines, places where shapewear dug into his skin, all the illusion of his silhouette stripped away.

“You’re so hot,” Monet murmurs and Nina cannot hear that sort of thing right now, is totally not ready for it.

“Thanks?” he says and Monet breathes a laugh against his thigh before dragging his tongue across Nina’s hip.

“This okay?”

Nina nods, can’t speak. He’s harder than he thought he could be after the amount he had to drink, and Monet’s hands (tracing up his thighs, moving between his legs) are so warm, and strong, and soft. When Monet bends forward and sucks him into his mouth, Nina gasps, back arching as he tries not to come immediately. Everything is impossibly tight and wet, and he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to remain upright. He puts an unsteady hand on Monet’s shoulder, and Monet reaches up, moves Nina’s hand to the back of his head. There’s stubble under Nina’s fingertips, and the soft sounds of Monet swallowing around him fill the room (along with Nina’s own frantic breathing).

“You taste fucking amazing,” Monet murmurs, dragging his tongue up the length of him and moaning. “Christ, I - bed, the bed, please -”

Nina stumbles backwards, falling onto the scratchy hotel comforter in a graceless sprawl. Monet is pulling off his shirt one-handed and then quickly climbing on top of him. His hand is on Nina’s cock and he’s grinding his hips into Nina’s thigh, and he’s kissing him again, hard and deep, like he’s starving. Nina can’t remember being with anyone who wanted to kiss him this much. It’s intoxicating, makes him feel something - he can’t put a label to it but it takes up too much room inside his chest.

“Can you just -” Monet bites out against Nina’s lips, and Nina pushes his hand past the waistband of Monet’s sweats, finds his cock hard and wet against his palm. Monet makes such a delicious noise at the first stroke of Nina’s hand that Nina can’t be blamed for the sounds he makes in response.

It goes like this for awhile, the two of them fucking each other’s fists and breathing into each other’s mouths. It’s quiet in the room except for cut-off moans and huffs of breath, and Nina lets his body take the lead in this, lets himself move and feel without thinking about it (tequila is a godsend).

When Monet comes it is nearly silent, just a stutter in his breath and a few sharp jerks of his hips and Nina’s hand is suddenly wet and trembling. It’s the hottest thing that’s happened to him in - in a long time - and he buries his face in Monet’s neck, goes somewhere else for an orgasm (“okay - okay - Oh fuck -”) that lasts longer than he expects it to, almost on the edge of too much.

Breathe.

In. Out.

“Fuck me up, Nina West,” Monet says against his neck, with a low gorgeous sigh. Nina lies back against the pillows, and realizes that Monet’s mouth is smeared with pink lipstick. It makes him huff out a tipsy laugh, which makes Monet smile with his eyes closed.

“Did you know you’re still in your wig?”

Oh my fucking God.

Nina is - still IN HIS WIG. His fucking bubblegum pink wig. He doesn’t know how to react to this knowledge, so he makes a mortifying sound that might be a laugh and might be a cough and might be someone choking.

It’s okay (he thinks) because Monet laughs too, covering his face with his hands, hiding that gorgeous smile. When Monet’s recovered himself, he leans over and starts to take the pins out of Nina’s hair, and Nina blushes for God knows what reason. As the wig slides off his head, Monet kisses him right above the pulse point in his jaw.

Things get foggy after that. The room is spinning slightly, and Nina isn’t sure whether that’s exhaustion or alcohol or the absolutely boneless and beautiful feeling that follows excellent sex. He thinks he hears fireworks going off outside, but when he cranes his head towards the window, expecting a shower of fiery glitter, the sky is dark.

Nina closes his eyes for a moment, thirty seconds tops. When he opens them again the sky has gone from black to misty blue, and Monet’s mouth is between his legs.

“Oh my God, you’re -”

Nina stays awake just long enough to come down Monet’s throat and then suck the taste off Monet’s tongue as they make out messily afterwards. At some point Monet loses the rest of his clothing, and the silk of his skin against Nina’s is utterly unfair - how could anyone possibly live through this? How do people ever get out of bed if Monet is in bed with them? The pressure of Monet’s mouth is something criminal; Nina feels like he could kiss him for hours. Maybe he already has been; time is all messed up in this hotel room, unravelled like bad knitting (just ask Nina’s gran, she’ll tell you about it).

He falls back asleep with Monet’s face pressed against his collarbone, murmuring nonsense to his skin. Nina tells himself in five minutes he’ll get up, gather his clothing, and go. It’s not dawn yet, five minutes won’t hurt.

“Yousmellnice.” Monet’s words are slurred together and soft, mouth damp on Nina’s skin, and Nina only closes his eyes for five minutes.

He wakes with a pounding headache and a sense of regret that he’s pretty sure is caused by more than just the copious amounts of tequila he drank last night. And this bed… Is not his own, he’s pretty sure, at least not the hotel bed he’s been in for the last two nights while they got ready for the finale and the reunion and-

Oh.

An arm wraps around his waist, tightens around his midsection, pulls him close. Beside him, Monet sighs.

Monet.

Shit. Fuck. Jesus. God.

The night returns to him in flashes: Monet’s hands soft on his stomach, back, and thighs; Monet’s lips ghosting over his own, teeth against his lip and hip and-

Nina squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up in his own bed, in his own room, even back in Columbus surrounded by dogs and not a man would be preferable at this exact moment because this cannot have happened.

Casual sex with random trade in bars is okay. It’s - different - like he said before, and it’s been awhile. But he feels things too deeply, gets too attached - for it to be the norm. One kiss and he’s ready to tattoo their names on his goddamn wrist. (Hyperbolically speaking. Mostly. Except for that one time. But it was college and he was much younger, and thank God it had just been Sharpie.)

But this is… This is less than good. Monet is a Ru girl. A winner. A fellow Miss Congeniality, and one of Nina’s favorites and this… This is bad. (Potentially.) Probably. He’s almost sure. So he was feeling some kind of way about Brooke because of something that happened a gazillion years ago (and wasn’t going to turn into anything anyway, Nina, Jesus) and Monet had been there, golden yellow and luscious in those finger waves and that slit so high it should have been against the law, and he’d… Taken advantage of the situation. Too much tequila, not enough common sense. Isn’t that how every bad decision starts?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and expels it in a long, measured stream through his pursed lips because his heart is speeding up, and it won’t be long before he starts spiraling again.

And another. In. Out.

Another. In. Out.

“Hey.”

Nina’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of Monet’s voice and he coughs a little. Very cool. Very how you want your Drag Race-winning hook up to see you first thing in the morning. He prays he had the sense to take all his makeup off before… Whatever.

“Hello,” Nina says cautiously, like the situation isn’t real, ceases to exist if they just don’t acknowledge it. He grips the sheet tightly to his chest.

Monet chuckles, low and deep, sends rumbles through the mattress. Then he turns over and presses his glasses to his face, peering at the clock on the nightstand.

“Shit, girl,” he mutters, sliding the spectacles over his nose. “It’s noon. We already missed breakfast.”

Then Monet is out of bed, perfect ass on full display in front of Nina - and even bleary-eyed and hungover he can appreciate that - but he closes his eyes tightly. (He still sneaks two or five more peeks while Monet gets dressed, if he’s being honest.) It’s not going to happen again - can’t happen again - and he wants to remember it. Only so he can fully regret it later. He went to Catholic school after all. He’s very used to metaphorical self-flagellation. Yeah. It’s very that.

Monet steps into the bathroom, and Nina takes the opportunity to fully assess his clothing situation. He’d come in drag, which meant he has to leave in drag, which is not… Ideal. Because a hotel at noon on a Tuesday afternoon is going to be far more bustling than a hotel at five on a Tuesday morning, and he looks a lot different as Andrew in a dress than he does as Nina in full drag.

He drags a hand across his face and his palm comes away streaked with black. Fantastic. All this and he’d managed to sleep in his makeup.

So. He figures this is the bed he’s made and now he has to lie in it. If his room weren’t all the way down on the fifth floor, he’d just take the stairs. He’s far more likely to run into people on the elevator than on the stairs.

“You wanna grab lunch?” Monet asks him, toothbrush in hand, working back and forth across his impeccable teeth, white foam at the corner of his perfect mouth.

Everything about Monet is perfect. Which is half of why Nina can’t figure out (or believe) last night. It just doesn’t - work that way for him.

People like Monet (and Brooke, that nasty little voice in the back of his head reminds him) can have anyone they want. So why did Monet choose you, Nina West? Why Nina West? Fifth-runner up, pushing 40, pudgy, soft-spoken. He could have left with anyone last night and yet here you are. When does the other shoe drop?

“Look, I don’t know where you went just now,” Monet says after rinsing his mouth. “But no pressure. I just figure we both gotta eat and I know a place.” He shrugs.

If this had been - something other than what it had been - Nina would think this was a date. But it wasn’t. Because it was… Whatever it had been. He’s still not really sure of that. The tequila’s still making everything a little fuzzy. It’s not a date. Monet’s tone is too casual, too easy.

And people like him don’t date people like you.

“Um, sure,” he says before he can stop himself. Because he meant to say no. He was going to say no. Why didn’t he say no? Because he wanted to say yes, damn it. “But I should probably…” He gestures between the pile of pink on the floor and his face.

“Right!” Monet laughs, and Nina thinks he almost hears a hint of nerves in it. Like maybe this is awkward for him too. “Yeah, probably not the best idea to go out in day drag and last night’s makeup. Not the most comfortable…” Monet runs a hand over his bald head and sighs.

Oh, it’s awkward. Lovely. “Well.” Nina’s sitting up, still clutching the sheet to his chest, waiting, but for what he isn’t sure. It’s not like Monet hasn’t seen him intimately, so why is he acting like a fourteen-year-old undressing in gym class for the first time?

“I think I’m going to shower.” Monet points over his shoulder to the bathroom. “What room are you in? I’ll just come down and meet you.”

Nina nods, grateful. “Five-oh-nine.”

“Great.” Monet smiles and it looks genuine. The light reaches his eyes, his shoulders relax a little. “I’ll, um… Thirty minutes?”

“Sure.”

Then Monet waves a little and disappears into the bathroom, and Nina bolts out of bed and pulls on that damn pink dress faster than he thought possible. He grabs his wig in one hand and his heels in the other and takes off out the door. The whole thing probably takes less than a minute, and his dress isn’t zipped; but honestly he couldn’t care less. All he wants to do is get in the shower and scrub his body raw of the regret and shame and scent of tequila coming from his pores.

Monet’s room isn’t too far from the elevator - thankfully - and Nina jabs the button approximately eight times, even though he knows it won’t help anything. It makes him feel better.

The doors finally slide open and Nina wants to die. Prays for a chasm to open where the tiny slit between elevator and wall is so he can just step into it and bid his painful existence farewell. Because lined up along the back of the elevator, is the entire cast of the Dream Girls: Vanjie, A’Keria and Silky. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Vanjie’s texting frantically on his phone but his mouth gapes open as Nina steps into the elevator. The doors slide closed with a soft whoosh and Nina faces forward instantly, does his best impression of someone that doesn’t exist.

“Hello there, Miss Nina!” Silky is much too loud, and much too cheerful for the throbbing in Nina’s head. “Ain’t you looking well-rested this morning?”

Nina gives him a small, awkward salute over his shoulder, but can’t make himself turn around. Maybe the cable will snap, that would be okay. Death, at this point, would be a welcome distraction from the heat in Nina’s cheeks and embarrassment roiling in his stomach. Or maybe that’s the tequila again. Yeah, that’s the motto. Blame the tequila - for everything.

“We were going to lunch,” Vanjie says gently, “if you want to come.”

“You can shower first, we’ll wait,” Silky continues, “Gotta get that stank off you. We’ve all been there, walking back down to the room after getting some trade in the hotel—”

“Silk,” Vanjie hisses under his breath.

Nina just shakes his head and tries to focus on the numbers ticking by. “No, thanks,” he says as the numbers land on five and the doors slide open. “I think I’ll just order in.”

He’s out of the doors and feeling like he’s over the worst of it, when Silky’s parting comment hits him right between the shoulder blades.

“You walking funny, Miss Nina?” Silky whistles after him. “Must have got that good D.”

And that’s when Nina decides that he absolutely, positively cannot go to lunch with Monet. It can’t be done. Can’t happen. Cannot continue.

Whatever happened between them last night was fueled by alcohol and angst and they have to leave it there in the hotel. He makes his mind up definitively as he scrubs at his face under the shower spray.

If they’re going to work together (which Nina very much hopes they will because Monet is amazing - might be one of the funniest people Nina’s ever met, actually, as well as a brilliant musician and - and anyway that’s enough) they have to forget about last night.

So he will. And that starts with not going to lunch.

When Monet knocks on his door and calls his name, Nina doesn’t answer. It isn’t the most mature way to handle the situation, but he isn’t feeling incredibly mature in that moment. So he remains silent for the entire five minutes that Monet stands at his door (heart beating like a snare drum in his throat, shame burning across his cheekbones.)

Later, when he steps out in the hall to collect his room service (because he does have to eat, Monet wasn’t wrong), Nina finds his jewelry atop his neatly folded shape wear just outside his door. Monet’s phone number is printed neatly on a square of hotel stationery, speared through one of his earrings so it can’t get lost.

And maybe, Nina thinks later as he enters the digits into his phone illustrated with the yellow-heart emoji (so what if he’s sentimental?), he wishes he had been just a little more mature.

Or a little more brave.

He blames the tequila.

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slvtbible · 5 years

Text

ain’t like the other

Warnings: none!

Pairing: black!Y/N x longhaired!harry

[this is a small blurb for all my beautiful Melanin queens out there! Sorry if it sucks:/]

Harry wishes his friend’s wedding party would just be over by now,

It’s way past 11 pm and he’s tired as hell. Has been working 24/7 to finish his second album before the deadline finally hit him, his fans deserves the best and that’s why he won’t sleep until he finishes all of it. And because he’s too kind towards people, he couldn’t say no to one of his best mate, so he forces himself to get out of the bed—after only getting 2 hours of sleep— and head out,

Now, he’s starting to regret it. He wishes he just lays his ass on the comfortable bed and never wakes up.

Right now he’s standing alone as he leans his back against the wall, looking over at the newlywed who shares a soft kiss to which the crowd cheer on. He feels his body is about to collapse but it’s not entirely his fault, and it doesn’t feel right for him to excuse himself from the party just to get to sleep.

That would be so selfish of him and so he needs to wait.

“Harry! Thanks for coming mate!” His friend clasps his shoulder as he’s coming from his side, “i know your schedule has been very hectic at the moment but I appreciate it that you took your time to come here.”

Harry nods, giving his friend a dimpled smile. “Won’t miss it for the world, man. Finally has tied the knot, eh?” He jokingly asks

His friend chuckles, letting a small sigh escapes his lips as his eyes stares at his new wife who are laughing and taking pictures with her bridesmaids,

“Yeah, still can’t wrap it around my head to the fact that I’m a married man.” He takes a sip of his bourbon drink,

“Still can’t believe it either mate. She’s a keeper. What a lovely woman she is.” Harry compliments, nodding over to his best friend’s wife,

“Back off Haz, she’s mine.” Trent jokes, chuckling to himself,

Harry responds with a laugh, nudging his shoulder with his knuckles softly, careful not to spill his drink,

“Not planning to steal her.”

The two shares a laugh after, and soon begins to talk about their new lives. Trent asks him about Harry’s family back home and how’s his new album going. The two man even jokes about how Trent used to have a crush on Gemma but failed to asked her out because she already got engaged.

Harry also gives him few advices on how to keep their marriage long-lasting, though he hasn’t been married. He has seen enough of marriages that has failed and hasn’t. His parents for example,

“Well, gotta go. Chelsea needs me to arrange a few pictures in the back or something. See you later H.” Trent smiles and slaps his shoulder playfully before walking away to his new wife,

Harry’s left to swim with his thoughts yet again. He should’ve bring a plus one to this wedding. But he’s already fed up with the media stirring up some shit about him. If he asked one of his friends who’s a boy, people will immediately assume he’s gay and if he asked one of his girl friends to be his date, media will making up rumors about how she’s Harry new girl and shit.

That’ll only create more drama between the fans and he doesn’t want that. He had enough of fans arguing about his sexuality when himself hasn’t even confirmed yet, people may think he hasn’t seen what they written about him. He knows

He loves his fans to death but God forbid to say that they can be such huge pain in the ass sometimes. But he chooses not to say anything, because he’s known as the nicest guy on earth

Or at least that’s what he thought,

“This scene isn’t really your cup of tea, is it?”

He hears a soft yet [he can assume] fake British accent speaks from behind him,

In curiosity he turns around and he swears that she’s the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on in this party.

Her hair is dark—almost black— colour, pulled into a high bun which he can easily make out her long lashes that compliments her big brown eyes. Pink lips gloss paints her plump lips that he can’t help but stare at for what it feels like eternity,

What captivates him the most is her white shoulder off dress that stops right above her knees. Contrasts beautifully with her dark and glowing skin tone, and shapes the perfect large portion of her breasts and the rest of her curves that he has been longing stare as he does with her lips.

“Sorry that was bad. I’m not British actually but i went to school in London.” She says blushing a bit, stirring the drink with the olives

He smiles, setting his attention to the beautiful girl standing before him. “Really? Thought you were real posh for a sec.”

She rolls her beautiful eyes but manages to smile anyway, “right? Did you know that they’re looking for the 2.0 Scary Spice at the moment. I just knew i had to volunteer.”

Both laugh at her joke and he can’t help but notice how pretty her smile is and how her eyes squinting a bit as she does it. It’s truly the most prettiest sight he has ever seen in a while,

He learns that her name is Y/N and she just graduated from Kingston University for a Criminology major. And now she’s taking a gap year before she continues to pursue a major in Master but she has been having second thoughts about that.

“Bride or groom?”

She’s quick to shake her head, waving her hand off. “Neither. Just here for the free drinks because my sister asked me to be her date tonight.”

He nods in understatement, not once tearing his eyes from her beautiful face as she continues rant about the lack of music taste in this wedding and how she says that they should hire her to manage the music section,

Laughing, he pushes his soft hair back and says “you look like a person who knows their music.”

She hums in agreement. “I don’t know about you but, I’m into Kehlani, Sevyn Streeter and BJ The Chicago Kid kind of stuff. Or something relevant to those people.”

He nods again, not really knowing who are those people she has just said. He can’t help but feel a little embarrassed by it,

“Never heard of them actually” He shyly admits, sipping on his drink as he watches her shocking reaction,

“What the fuck?” He chokes on his drink when he hears her cuss, “Who even are you Harry Styles?”

He shrugs and smiles innocently at her which only receives a jaw dropping reaction from her,

“Lemme guess. You’re like Frank Sinatra and The Beatles kind of man, ain’t you?”

He holds his hands up, “you got me” he jokingly says, watching her shake her head and lets out a small giggle,

It’s the most adorable sound ever,

“I can tell. You should try and listen to RnB for your own sake. Jhene Aiko is great too, got that kind of chill vibes you can listen to in midnight.” She suggests, pushing a fringe out of her face,

He listens carefully to what she’s saying and he’s not pretending. He makes a mental note that he has to check these artists and their projects out, perhaps adding them to his playlist as well so that he won’t forget,

Two hours full of them sharing their music taste, the food in the wedding, upcoming tours and stuff. She mainly asks about his happiness and favorite artists other than The Beatles, and he finds himself enjoying these type of conversation. She sees him as Harry not Harry Fucking Styles,

They have gotten closer to the fact that they are sitting on the chairs that has been placed on the outside, enjoying each other’s company and how their shoulders casually bumping with each other because of how close they are right now.

She shares about her experience on going to college for Criminology major, discussing how some people in her uni are major pain in the ass because they sometimes would fight over small little things. And the way she delivers the words causes him to laugh even more,

He loves watching her talk. It’s calming to him,

“Oh shoot, i gotta go.” She suddenly says, looking down to the time on her phone, “I’m sorry Harry.”

His face falls in disappointment, not wanting her to leave just yet. “What? Why? Do you have work tomorrow?”

“An interview to be exact and i need this so bad.” She sighs, standing up to her feet as he stands as well,

“Oh well, want me to take you home?”

“You don’t have to H. I drove here.” She smiles, drinking her last gulp of the martini and place the glass down. “I had a great time with you Harry. Really did. So it’s not because of you alright? Calm your tits.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he laughs at her choice of words. “We’ll see eachother again right?”

“Of course, Harry. You have my number right?” She asks with a grin, winking before she pecks him on his lightly stubble cheek,

“See you around Harry.”

Lemme know if y’all want part 2!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles preferences #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurbs

109 notes · View notes

echoes-of-realities · 6 years

Note

If you take requests, what about Brittana and moments on stage?

Notes: I’ve been working on this for a couple days between work and wanted to get it up now, but I’ll start on the prompts as soon as I shower lol. There’s some really good ones that gave me lots of ideas.

This was such a good request tbh. It was so much fun to write.

The first time Santana catches Brittany’s eye on stage, her heart stops.

It’s only a brief moment, a split second where their eyes meet during a turn in the choreography at their very first performance during invitationals, but Santana’s instantly addicted. Brittany’s blue eyes sparkle under the stage lights, and she’s bright and glowing, her movements sure and easy; she looks as thrilled as Santana feels. It’s electric and exciting and intoxicating and just a little bit scary, and Santana can’t wait to feel it again.

The next time she feels it, it’s during sectionals. She can sense more than see Brittany behind her, just above her on the choir riser, and when she turns Brittany’s there, with a warm smile for Santana like she always is. She’s beautiful in black and pink, her dress swirling around her knees and her body spinning like it was made just to dance. The crowd cheers for them but all Santana can focus on is the back of Brittany’s hand brushing over her arm and causing goosebumps to rise. She feels alive, and every part of this moment is engraved in her memory.

It’s at regionals, in the middle of their Journey medley, that Santana realizes that this isn’t just a little thing, but a full-blown, happens-every-time, makes-my-heart-stop thing. She can’t quite believe that the glee club made it this far, if she’s being honest with herself, and she can’t quite believe how much she relies on this dumb little club now, how much she looks forward to it everyday, and she especially can’t quite believe how fast everything feels; the performance, the lights, the crowd, the song, the entire year. Before she knows it her first solo line is right there and her stomach turns into a ball of ice; but then Brittany’s eyes meet hers from the row beside her and everything in Santana stills. Rachel’s voice fades away, the crowd quiets, the stage lights dim, and, for just a moment, it’s just her and Brittany, and the anxiety in Santana’s shoulders melts away as Puck’s voice echoes across the auditorium. Brittany’s smile is the last thing Santana sees before the colours of the lights and the crowd and the stage fade back in and it’s her turn to sing.

Santana doesn’t show it, but she’s so nervous about her solo that she’s actually nauseous, but everyone always knows her as the untouchable Santana Lopez, so she pushes her nerves down and smirks and plays up her confidence backstage. Before she knows it, the lights are dimmed and she’s at the back of the choir risers and the music is starting. She takes a shaky breathe and glances and Brittany who gives her a sweet, encouraging smile as she pushes Santana’s hair back from her face, as soft and gentle as she always is. And a couple verses later, when she beckons Brittany over to her, she forgets about everything that’s been going on between them for the past little bit, and everything on stage narrows down to just her and Britt; Brittany looks into her eyes and everything simplifies.

At regionals their junior year everything hurts. Santana can feel the ache like someone is wrenching on a fishhook right beneath her sternum, like her heart is being battered against her ribs, like her bones are freezing right down to the marrow, like a ball of lead is caught in her stomach and the ceiling is pressing her down into the floor and she can’t move; she feels stiff and sore and nauseous and everything hurts. Acting like she hasn’t been torn in two hurts, everyone’s nervous smiles and oblivious support hurts, dancing beside Brittany hurts, the fact that the choreography places fucking Wheels between them hurts, seeing Brittany’s sparkling blue eyes directed at someone else hurts, feeling Brittany’s hand ghost over her shoulders hurts, but what especially hurts is the fact that she has to smile and pretend it doesn’t. Brittany catches her eye from across the stage at the end of the performance, breathing hard and staring at her so intently that Santana feels like she’s burning up. Santana looks away and that, more than anything, hurts.

It’s both terrifying and exhilarating to sing a song she helped to write, a song that she wrote the first verse for, a song that she wrote for Brittany, a song that she is singing for Brittany in front of hundreds of strangers; Brittany was the first person to see the lyrics last night, and she kissed her so softly that Santana’s heart ached. All of her nerves fade as soon as Brittany’s voice joins her, and when she steps up beside Brittany and their eyes meet with wide smiles, all of Santana’s shame and fear and everything that’s happened over the past year melts away and Santana’s practically giddy with the possibilities that the coming summer will bring.

Dancing with Brittany is something that Santana’s loved ever since they were five years old and Brittany was teaching her to waltz in the soccer field behind the playground; dancing with Brittany for the first time on stage since being outed is both terrifying and freeing. Brittany’s arms are strong around are her back, as they always are, and it makes her skin tingle. Hundreds of people in the audience know about something she’s kept hidden for so many years, but with Britt’s eyes on her and a warm hand on her shoulder, she knows that she doesn’t really have to worry about everything that’s been scaring her anymore, because Brittany’s always been there through it all.

Brittany is really nervous for her first big solo part at regionals, so nervous that she almost freezes before they head out on stage. But Santana catches her hand and gives her a smile right before they head onto stage and she can see the tension melt from Brittany as she softens, her face relaxing and her shoulders dropping. Brittany gives her a relieved smile as they head out onto stage, and that’s when Santana knows that she has the same calming effect that Brittany has on her while they’re on stage. Brittany kills her solo, because of course she does, and as she spins at the front of the stage and heads back to the rest of the Troubletones she beams at Santana, and Santana has never been more proud.

Santana meets Brittany’s eyes as the walk towards each other, their voices rising and falling together flawlessly, and Santana can’t help but think back to last summer, that night after the fireworks; a smile twitches the corner of her lips, and a returning one spreads across Brittany’s face. Santana knows that Brittany’s thinking back to that night, what seems like a lifetime ago. Santana’s been out for almost six months by now, and she almost can’t remember how nerve-wracking it was to kiss Brittany on the check that night; what she can remember in vivid detail is the red lipstick kiss on her cheek, the glow of green-blue light from the dashboard flashing in blue eyes, the flicker of streetlights painting freckled skin in gold, and Brittany’s fingers tangled with hers over the centre console. She remembers all this in split-second technicolour, and this new memory of Brittany in red, singing a duet together at nationals doesn’t obscure the old one, but rather makes it even more precious.

The next time Santana performs everything is so different she barely recognizes anything anymore, but not in a good way. Brittany doesn’t perform beside her and that stings the most; she watches from the wing of the stage, with that broken look on her face that mirrors the one Santana feels. Her heart aches almost constantly, these days, and despite her best intentions of saving their relationship before it could crash and burn, everything’s already in flames. It doesn’t just hurt a little bit, like Brittany said before Santana went on, it still feels like something reached into her chest and ripped out her heart every time she looks at Brittany and remembers that she’s not hers anymore. Santana knows that she did this to herself, and that somehow makes it worse.

They don’t perform together for a very long time after that, long enough that the memory of that spark only her and Brittany shared when their eyes met on stage starts to change and fade, no matter how desperately Santana tries to hold on to it. But glee still has regionals, and Santana tears up as soon as she spots Britt on stage without her by her side. Santana’s eyes track Brittany the entire time. She’s beautiful in her purple dress, but also sad; her smile is glowing but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, even under the bright stage lights. It’s the sadness hidden behind her smile that sends Santana looking for her after the winners are announced and the auditorium is empty. Brittany sits by herself on centre stage, and Santana’s chest aches at how wrong it is, how wrong everything is right now. She doesn’t say anything as she approaches her, but she doesn’t have to; Brittany always knows, and she takes the offered hand with a small smile.

It’s still a couple months before they perform on stage together again, and it’s somehow even better than Santana remembers, with Brittany beside her the entire time, beaming and flirting and teasing and just being, in a way they haven’t been able to for a very long time. Santana almost forgot how right it feels, dancing beside Brittany with their fingers tangled together. Brittany’s eyes sparkle and, when they meet Santana’s, like always, they send a spark racing down Santana’s spine and everything in her stills and calms. Brittany spins into Santana, using her momentum to press a kiss to her cheek with a grin that’s both cheeky and sweet, and Santana melts into her arms.

The first performance during Mercedes’ mall tour is Santana’s moment, the one that her mami always told her about, that someday she would just know when something’s right, and she would know exactly what to do. It’s looking across stage to catch Brittany’s eyes like she always does that makes realization shoot through her like liquid light. Brittany’s blue eyes still glow bright under the crappy mall lighting, and her smile widens as she meets Santana’s gaze, her lips spreading and softening and her eyes sparkling. Santana starts as she realizes that this is that moment, the one her mami told her about, the moment that she realizes that this is exactly what she wants for the rest of her life; to be able to look over at Brittany’s glowing eyes and know that she’s the reason behind their happiness. It’s at a dingy mall in L.A., her shirt stuck to her back with sweat and bored shoppers wandering past without a second look, that Santana starts to plan the most important question she’s ever going to ask Brittany; it’s where Santana starts to plan their future.

They’ve performed together so many times before, both throughout high school and on tour with Mercedes, but this, this performance, Santana knows is the most important of her life. She’s nervous and jittery but also excited and eager. Brittany is as adorable as always, moving through their mostly improvised choreography with ease, fun and bright and beautiful. Santana can barely contain her excitement, and even when she starts to sink down to one knee and Brittany follows her lead instead if staying in the chair like Santana planned, she’s nothing more than ecstatic; Brittany is always on the same page as her. Brittany hops on the piano and her eyes turn soft and liquid and warm as her voice melts into Santana’s, her fingers trailing down Santana’s arm with all the gentleness in the world, and Santana knows that this is the moment she’s been waiting to arrive for months — or, really, her whole life.

Santana knows that all their other moments, all the performances they’ve done together, all of their songs and dances have lead to this, to this first performance as wife and wife. The song keeps going, but Santana can’t bring herself to pay attention, not when Brittany is goofing off with her on stage, her eyes bluer than Santana’s ever seen them, her smile happier than its ever been. Santana meets Brittany’s eyes and love and adoration shoot through her like an electric shock, warming her from where Brittany’s fingers twine with her own all the way through to her toes, like liquid happiness is spreading through her veins until all she feels is loved and adored.

And, just like the first time Santana caught Brittany’s eye on stage, all those years ago, her heart stops.

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #requests #my writing #I just finished my fifth out of seven days in a row of work and I am Tired #but all the prompts are really motivating me #I'm just going to shower and make supper and then tackle them!!

49 notes · View notes

thewritenerd · 3 years

Text

Victor And Adam: NaNoWriMo Day 21

Adam

When he first woke up Adam’s first thought was he didn’t want to go to school. The altercation with the old woman had left him very shaken and he couldn’t bare the thought of even risking another one. Lying there he wondered if he should fake sick. But he wasn’t sure how to do that. He’d never actually been sick so he had no idea what it felt like. Sure he’d seen actors pretending on tv but how accurate was that? When Igor had been sick he hadn’t even been allowed to see him. ‘Adam. If you want breakfast you’ll have to come down soon.’ He heard Igor call from the other side of the door. At first Adam thought of ignoring him and pretending to be asleep, but he didn’t want anyone coming in just yet. ‘I’m not hungry!’ he called back. ‘Well you need to eat something.’ Adam just stayed where he was staring at the wall. He listened as Igor made his way back down the stairs. He knew he’d be back soon telling him he had to get up to go to school. He wouldn’t let that drop. But still Adam found himself lying there. Sooner than he expected he heard footsteps coming back up the stairs. At first he thought it was Igor but the steps were to fast and heavy. ‘Adam?’ It was Victor’s voice this time. Unlike Igor he didn’t wait for a response and instead pushed the door open and stepped inside. ‘Adam are you okay?’ Adam just lay there not answering. How could he answer? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lie or not. Or even what counted as a lie and what was technically the truth. Was he okay? He wasn’t sick but he felt awful. But if he was asked to put any specific words to it he had nothing. Truth was it was the thought of what may happen that made him feel that way. And how can you explain feeling bad about something that hasn’t happened? ‘Adam you need to get up. You can’t stay in here forever.’ ‘I’m not…’

‘You didn’t leave your room at all yesterday. Now come on you need to go to school.’ Adam reluctantly sat up but stayed sat in bed. Victor sighed and came a little closer. ‘How about this. I’ll ring the school and tell them you have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. That way you only have to do a half day.’ Adam opened his mouth to speak but Victor held out his hand to stop him. ‘I’m only going to do that for today. Tomorrow I expect you to stay there for a full day. Understand?’ Adam nodded. He still wasn’t happy to be going but he supposed a half day wouldn’t be too bad. Still he wondered… ‘Couldn’t I just go back to being home-schooled?’ he asked. Victor shook his head. ‘Igor and I both have to work.’ ‘Well maybe you could hire someone?’ Adam suggested not wanting to let the matter drop. Victor frowned at him. It wasn’t the frown he was used to getting. This was less a glower and more a look of concern. ‘You’re going to school and that’s final. If you still don’t want to go at the end of the school year then we’ll talk about it.’ Adam nodded realising that this was as good an offer as he was going to get. Victor patted his shoulder. ‘Good boy. Now come on you really do need to get dressed.’

***

‘Have you got everything?’ Igor asked as he pulled up outside the school gates. ‘Books, pencil case, pills, phone.’ Adam checked off the list. ‘Did you remember your water bottle?’ ‘Yeah that’s in there.’ ‘Good and what were the rules for your meds?’ ‘No more than two doses a day and wait six hours between each dose.’ Igor nodded. ‘Good. Now go on. I’ll pick you up at lunch.’ Adam stepped out of the car and waved goodbye. As soon as he stepped through the door he heard a familiar voice scream, ‘Heeeeyyyy Aaaaadaaaam!’ he looked round to see Chelsea enthusiastically throwing verself into the air arms waving all over the place. He made his way over to ver and Nate, who was trying to get as much distance between himself and Chelsea’s flailing arms. ‘Hey guy’s.’ Adam said a smile breaking out on his face. No matter how bad he’d felt this morning it was hard to feel completely miserable when Chelsea was around. ‘How have you been?’ Nate asked as he fiddled with his hearing aids. He must have turned them off when Chelsea started yelling Adam thought. He couldn’t exactly blame him. ‘Fine.’ Chelsea and Nate exchanged glances. ‘What?’ Adam asked looking from one to the other. ‘Uh it’s just. Well…’ Nate began. ‘Sascha saw your fight with that old lady outside the cinema.’ Chelsea finished for him. Nate nodded. ‘Well she didn’t say fight. But she did overhear you yelling.’ He corrected before leaning forward. ‘Did she really tell you to. You know? Kill yourself?’ he said the last part so quietly Adam almost didn’t catch it. ‘More or less.’ ‘Wow. Okay if you ever see her when we’re out and about point her out and I’ll hit her so hard her false teeth come out her saggy backside.’ ‘Chelsea!’ Nate cried. ‘What. Hey you know I’m not a violent person but I can’t just let her get away with that.’ Adam shook his head. ‘Please don’t punch anyone on my behalf.’ Chelsea nodded. ‘Okay but can I throw some eggs at her?’ Nate shook his head. ‘What are you going to carry eggs around until you see her in the street?’ ‘Why not? I could carry them around in a little basket. Maybe I could wear a red cloak too.’ Ver eyes were shining at the thought. ‘I doubt you have enough clothes in any colour other than pink to do that. At least without looking like a colour illiterate fashion disaster.’ Nate teased. Chelsea rolled ver eyes at him and gave him a shove. ‘Says the weirdo in the neckerchief and farmers shirt.’ Ve reached out and tugged on the open shirt Nate usually wore over his t shirt. ‘Farmers shirt. Does this look checked to you?’ Nate asked with clearly fake indignation. At this point Adam was laughing. ‘That’s better.’ Chelsea said. ‘Now come on or we’ll be late for class. And we have chemistry first period.’ The two boys exchanged looks with grimaces on their faces. ‘Wow first day back and it’s the dragon’s class. Bad luck mate.’ They made their way to the science rooms splitting off as Chelsea and Nate headed off to their class and Adam headed into his. Being the very top set Adam’s science classes were the second smallest in his year. The smallest being the bottom set, which he’d heard was compromised almost entirely of kids with learning disabilities, who only did one subject each so they were spread out pretty thin. Stepping into the room he saw most of his classmates were already there. The only missing were Sammy, a kid with cerebral palsy ho usually was the last to come in as it was easier to manoeuvre his wheelchair around when everyone was sat down, and a couple of kids whose names Adam couldn’t quite remember. He had just sat down when the teacher came in closely followed by Sammy and the TA who helped him. ‘Right I see most of you have bothered to show up.’ She said as she sat at her desk. ‘Now let’s see Imogen Ackerman.’ ‘Here miss.’ ‘Shaun Alger.’ ‘Here miss.’ She was just getting to the F’s when one of the two missing students came through the doors. ‘Ah miss Karim. You’re late.’ ‘So sorry miss.’ The girl replied as she tried to fix her hijab back in place. ‘You’re lucky the school rules officially state I can’t give you detention unless you come in after I’ve marked the register otherwise you would be in detention. Now sit down.’ Karim nodded and rushed to her seat. ‘Right. Arisha Fedorov.’ ‘Here miss.’ Ursula Fiddler.’ ‘Here miss.’ ‘Damian Forney.’ ‘Here miss.’ ‘Yvone Fowler.’ ‘He’s not in today miss.’ Shaun called. ‘He went to his grandma’s funeral over the weekend and his family won’t be back until this evening.’ ‘Right.’ ‘Adam Frankenstein.’ ‘Here miss.’ Adam said raising his hand as they were expected to do. He always felt a bit silly doing that. It wasn’t like he was hard to miss. ‘Ah yes. I heard you’d be coming back this week. Let’s hope you can catch up with what you’ve missed.’ Adam nodded. ‘I think I can.’ Miss Newell raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Okay then what’s the chemical formula for glucose? And what is the molar mass and the melting point.’ ‘Six parts carbon, twelve parts hydrogen, and six parts oxygen. The molar mass is 180.156 and the melting point is 146 degrees centigrade.’ He felt rather pleased to have remembered all that. Chemistry wasn’t his strongest subject but he was good with the numbers. ‘Yes well don’t look so smug. No one likes a know it all.’ Miss Newell said before turning back to the register. Adam let his head drop. ‘What a bitch.’ The kid next to him muttered. He looked over to Adam and gave him a reassuring smile which Adam returned. Adam had often ended up sitting next to him but had never really learnt his name. It turned out to be Oscar O’Conner. Oscar had a thick Irish accent and so much metal in his face, and on his teeth, it was a surprise he wasn’t asked to leave the room every time a magnet was used. Once Miss Newell finished the register she announced they’d be doing group projects. ‘Now you’ll remember how last week I asked you to get into groups of threes and fours. Adam you’ll be with Oscar and Maram. Right get in your groups.’ Adam watched as the girl in the hijab stood up and made her way over. ‘Hey.’ She said as she took a seat across the bench from them. ‘Hey.’ Adam said. ‘Hey beautiful.’ Oscar said blowing Maram a kiss. She pretended to catch it and put it on her lips. Adam stared not sure what to say. ‘We’re dating.’ Oscar explained. Adam nodded. ‘Well don’t let me interrupt.’ He joked. Maram laughed. ‘Come on we’d better get started before Miss Newell comes over.’ ‘So what are we doing?’ Adam asked. ‘We’ve got to make one of these things but the instructions are very vague.’ Oscar replied pointing to the worksheet he’d put on the bench. ‘I think we should do the bouncy balls. They sound fun.’ Maram said pointing to the list. ‘Well so does coloured fire. What do you think?’ he looked to Adam. ‘Yeah you can be our decider.’ ‘Definitely the balls. I’m not a huge fan of fire.’ Maram nodded. ‘That’s right. You won’t even use the Bunsen burners.’ They turned back to the worksheet. ‘Hmm. Okay we’ll need Borax, corn-starch, glue, water, food colouring…’ she read out the list. ‘Huh this sounds pretty easy.’

***

It was not easy. And they left an hour later with strict instructions to come back at break to clean up the mess. ‘Honestly what did she expect to happen.’ Oscar grumbled. ‘She probably didn’t expect you to get the wrong ingredients.’ Maram pointed out. ‘Well I think she should have awarded us. We might have invented a new kind of glue.’ Adam pointed joked. This got a laugh from the other two. ‘Yeah. My hands still hurt.’ Oscar said looking down at his palm that was still bright red from accidentally sticking himself to the table. At had taken a considerable amount of tugging from Adam and himself to get free. ‘And to think you two are top of the class.’ Maram sighed rolling her eyes. ‘Hey you’re just as much at fault as I am.’ Adam insisted. Maram laughed then stopped. ‘Your girlfriend’s over there’ She said pointing down the hall to the stairs. ‘Who?’ Adam looked round. ‘There. Standing two steps from the bottom. Look she’s heading up.’ Adam followed where she was pointing. ‘Shreya’s not my girlfriend.’ ‘Huh really. I thought two were together.’ Adam shook his head. ‘I’m not sure who told you that but it’s not true.’ ‘Really. I heard she let you borrow her book.’ Adam shrugged. ‘Well yeah but that doesn’t make us a couple. Unless that’s some kind of secret code I don’t know.’ Oscar shook his head. ‘No. But Shreya won’t let anyone touch her books. Let alone borrow them. She must really like you.’ ‘And I’m guessing by the colour of your cheeks you might like her back.’ Maram said cocking her head to one side. ‘I.’ Adam began. ‘I don’t…’ Frustrated he started kicking the ground.

#nanowrimo #long post #read more #writing #writblr #victor and adam

0 notes

claire-bear-and-friends-blog · 7 years

Text

Bleach Version of CAH

Black Cards

v What would I create if I had Aizen’s hogyoku?

v Maybe Ikkaku isn’t bald. Maybe he’s ( ).

v The other Visored were shocked to learn that Lisa’s magazines are actually filled with pictures of ( ).

v What is the Quincy’s ultimate goal?

v Kurosaki Ichigo has every power. Except the power of ( ).

v I should be in Squad 0 because I invented ( ).

v What’s the next thing that Szayel is going to make edible?

v Yhwach is hiring a new Stern Ritter, the Quincy of ( ).

v Soi Fon refused to fight alongside Hachigen, at least until he offered her ( ).

v Why is Soul Society in trouble?

v Grimmjow hasn’t joined the battle because he is distracted by ( ).

v What will the Reiou (Soul King) use to woo Ichigo?

v Orihime’s powers can heal anything, except of course ( ).

v Rukia’s next comic will be about ( ), dealing with ( ), for the first time.

v For their new fundraiser, the Women’s Soul Reaper Association (WRSA) will be selling ( ).

v Gin might have beaten Aizen if only he had used ( ).

v Urahara has a secret weapon to defeat the Quincy. What is it?

v As a teenager Byakuya was obsessed with ( ).

v What was the name of Ichigo’s fullbring?

v When not in use, the Zanpakuto bond by ( ).

v Aside from killing, what do Soul Reapers use their Zanpakuto for?

v The Visored survived in the World of the Living by ( ).

v Why does the king ride the horse?

v Aizen has requested to see a live performance of Hamlet in the World of the Living. Why?

v Ryuuken has decided to become a better father by ( ).

v Isshin has decided to become a better father by ( ).

v The best sword in Bleach belongs to ( ).

v Who has the spikiest hair?

v What was Luffi’s secret power?

v What things are found in Ichigo’s repression box?

v Why are there so many characters with a creepy grin?

v The person that has a crush on Ichigo is ( ).

v What does Senbonzakura do in his spare time?

v What brings all the Hollows to the yard?

v The best way to describe Bleach is ( ).

v Why does Ichigo’s inner hollow wax poetry about kings and horses?

v When the Visoreds materialise their masks their sclera’s turn black. Because of ( ).

v What is the heart?

v ( ) & ( ), the hottest new ship in Bleach.

v What were the makers of Bleach S Abridged on when making their abridged series?

v A new name has been created for Bleach and is ( ).

v I will defeat you using my ( )!

v Aizen’s Bankai gives the ability to ( ).

v When Ichigo and Nel spend time together it always leads to ( ).

v Uryuu loves ( ), but he will never admit it.

v The dullest part of Bleach is ( ).

v ( ) will defeat all the hollows.

v The real cause of Ukitake’s illness is ( ).

v Nanao has discovered something in her captain’s bedroom. What is it?

v ( ) doesn’t happen in the manga.

White Cards

v The Quincy watching you from the shadows.

v A Menos Grande named Steve.

v Aizen’s bondage chair.

v Ishida wearing Ichigo’s sword like a hat.

v Tite Kubo’s fetish for cutting off arms.

v The heart.

v A sword that releases into an EVEN BIGGER SWORD!

v My pride.

v A noble scarf.

v Boobs.

v Very nice sideburns.

v Ichigo’s closet.

v Getting a tattoo on your face because you once saw a dude with the same tattoo on his chest.

v An obscene tattoo.

v Complimenting another dudes’ eyebrows because eyebrows are cool, dude.

v Shunpo (flash step).

v Eyebrows that are just, freakishly long.

v Zombie slaves.

v A bunny named Chappy.

v Screaming Kurosaki Ichigo’s name.

v The empty chair in the sky.

v Perfect hypnosis.

v A nickname from Yachiru.

v Talking to your guitar like it is sentient.

v The despair squad.

v Justice.

v A bucket worn on the head like a helmet.

v Talking cats.

v Putting Urahara into a box for an entire month.

v A pink flowered kimono.

v A stray dog, down to my bones.

v Squad 4 being too late to actually heal you.

v Aizen getting high on Ulquiorra’s eye sparkles.

v Stabbing Momo Hinamori.

v Ulquiorra holding out his hand as he turns to dust.

v Healing mucus.

v Endless Pursuit.

v Admiral Seaweed.

v A hand that doubles as a drill.

v A caterpillar baby with poisonous chest spikes.

v Ignoring serious head wounds.

v Unohana with her hair down.

v Instinct.

v Plushies that are alive.

v Tea.

v My inner hollow.

v A city on its side.

v The rain.

v A dead mother.

v Urahara’s hat.

v A hell butterfly.

v Because it is all according to my plan. - Aizen

v Byakuya’s hair piece.

v The Ouken (The Kings Key).

v Piles of paperwork.

v Mysterious transfer students.

v Resurreccion Segunda Etapa (Second-Stage Resurreccion).

v BANKAI!

v Ichigo’s blinding hair that every other anime protagonist has.

v Nerd Aizen.

v Getsuga Tensho (Basically, Fuck everything in that direction).

v Mugetsu.

v Yoruichi’s fuzzy paws.

v Quincy brainwashing.

v A powerless Ichigo.

v Harribel’s under-boob.

v Tatsuki punching Chizuru off of Orihime every morning.

v Las Noche’s being so huge.

v Crystal tree’s in Hueco Mundo.

v Mugetsu’s majestic, waist-length, black hair.

v The holy Substitute Shinigami arc.

v Everyone randomly giving Toshiro candy all the time.

v Aizen's butterfly form that made all fans stare in horror.

v Orihime’s usefulness and character development other that her breasts.

v The beach episode that came from an omake and a 2-page art piece.

v Ulquiorra’s habit of creating a hole in his victim’s chest.

v Rangiku in a cat suit.

v Hyorinmaru’s stoic face.

v The tragic ending of Bleach.

v Gin creepily staring at everyone with a knowing grin from afar.

v Grimmjow’s Resurreccions blue kitty ears.

v The fact that Ikkaku shares an uncanny resemblance to Saitama from One Punch Man.

v The bromance of the entire 11th division.

v Ichigo’s cero destroying the chains of Hell.

v The Diamond Dust Rebellion movie.

v Mayuri without his makeup and headgear.

v Urahara smirking behind his fan.

v Just a simple candy shop owner.

v The rejoicing of every Ichihime and Renruki shipper at the ending.

v Kenpachi’s hair style of death.

v The fact that Isshin is Kaien, Ganju and Kuukakku’s uncle. Also, that he was the head of the Noble Shiba clan.

v Yumichika’s soul sucking, colour sensitive, flowery, peacock zanpakuto.

v Grimmjow’s abs.

v Ulquiorra cosplaying as batman.

v The Espada at Aizen’s tea parties.

v Noitora’s 6 arms.

v All of the Ichigo shippers going to war.

v The despair of every Ichiruki and Ishihme shipper at the ending.

v Fights that take 10 episodes to finish.

v Fighting a captain.

v Sacrificing yourself in a horrific and violent manner.

v The canon ships.

v Bleach S Abridged in general.

v Ichigo’s hollow and Old Man Zangetsu drinking in Ichigo’s inner world.

v Dark Rukia.

v Just kiss him already.

v Cero.

v Whatever animal Kon is.

v Insulting your former captain.

v A secret sake stash.

v A Mashiro Super Kick.

v Stabbing people in the chest with your hand.

v The Onmitsukido.

v Flinging your friend from the top of Soukyouku Hill.

v Using forbidden Kido.

v Ukitake’s chronic illness.

v Getting lost in every single division barracks.

v Having Kido backfire on you.

v Explaining your abilities to your opponent.

v Mayuri’s questionable fashion sense.

v A ridiculous amount of spiritual pressure.

v Hell.

v High level Kido spells cast without incantations.

v Betrayal.

v Kuchiki Byakuya’s perfect hair.

v Noble families.

v Orihime’s attempts at seducing Ichigo.

v Sosuke Aizen. Enough said.

v Yoruichi turning into a cat.

v Accepting Ichigo’s offer to see his ‘Ultimate Zanpakuto’.

v Untreated PTSD.

v Shiro’s horns right up the ass.

v Killing Masaki.

v Dying heroically for no reason.

v The MRSA (Men’s Soul Reapers Association)

v Getting stabbed in the chest.

v Karakura Town.

v Rangiku’s necklace that falls between her boobs.

v Pure chaos.

v Central 46 being murdered by Aizen.

v Getting stabbed by your captain.

v Saving the world before turning 16.

v Muramasa’s Zanpakuto filler arc that is underrated.

v Ikkaku Madarame’s shiny bald head.

v Strawberry-chan.

v Isshin’s suspicious white van.

v Pretending not to have Bankai.

v The Maggot’s nest with Urahara in charge.

v Tekking101’s weekly Bleach chapter review.

v Kenpachi Zaraki killing everyone in the nearby vicinity

AN: Just to be clear I don’t own Bleach, but me and my friends created our own version of Cards Against Humanity and I wanted to share them. They take a while to make and coming up with the ideas was a process. I encourage you to enjoy and if you wish to make your own, you are totally allowed to use these or simply take ideas. It is a long post as it has 50 Black and 150 White cards.

Have a good one!

-Claire Bear & Friends

#Bleach #Cards Against Anime #Fandoms

3 notes · View notes

cardsagainstanme · 7 years

Text

Bleach Version of CAH

Black Cards

v What would I create if I had Aizen’s hogyoku?

v Maybe Ikkaku isn’t bald. Maybe he’s ( ).

v The other Visored were shocked to learn that Lisa’s magazines are actually filled with pictures of ( ).

v What is the Quincy’s ultimate goal?

v Kurosaki Ichigo has every power. Except the power of ( ).

v I should be in Squad 0 because I invented ( ).

v What’s the next thing that Szayel is going to make edible?

v Yhwach is hiring a new Stern Ritter, the Quincy of ( ).

v Soi Fon refused to fight alongside Hachigen, at least until he offered her ( ).

v Why is Soul Society in trouble?

v Grimmjow hasn’t joined the battle because he is distracted by ( ).

v What will the Reiou (Soul King) use to woo Ichigo?

v Orihime’s powers can heal anything, except of course ( ).

v Rukia’s next comic will be about ( ), dealing with ( ), for the first time.

v For their new fundraiser, the Women’s Soul Reaper Association (WRSA) will be selling ( ).

v Gin might have beaten Aizen if only he had used ( ).

v Urahara has a secret weapon to defeat the Quincy. What is it?

v As a teenager Byakuya was obsessed with ( ).

v What was the name of Ichigo’s fullbring?

v When not in use, the Zanpakuto bond by ( ).

v Aside from killing, what do Soul Reapers use their Zanpakuto for?

v The Visored survived in the World of the Living by ( ).

v Why does the king ride the horse?

v Aizen has requested to see a live performance of Hamlet in the World of the Living. Why?

v Ryuuken has decided to become a better father by ( ).

v Isshin has decided to become a better father by ( ).

v The best sword in Bleach belongs to ( ).

v Who has the spikiest hair?

v What was Luffi’s secret power?

v What things are found in Ichigo’s repression box?

v Why are there so many characters with a creepy grin?

v The person that has a crush on Ichigo is ( ).

v What does Senbonzakura do in his spare time?

v What brings all the Hollows to the yard?

v The best way to describe Bleach is ( ).

v Why does Ichigo’s inner hollow wax poetry about kings and horses?

v When the Visoreds materialise their masks their sclera’s turn black. Because of ( ).

v What is the heart?

v ( ) & ( ), the hottest new ship in Bleach.

v What were the makers of Bleach S Abridged on when making their abridged series?

v A new name has been created for Bleach and is ( ).

v I will defeat you using my ( )!

v Aizen’s Bankai gives the ability to ( ).

v When Ichigo and Nel spend time together it always leads to ( ).

v Uryuu loves ( ), but he will never admit it.

v The dullest part of Bleach is ( ).

v ( ) will defeat all the hollows.

v The real cause of Ukitake’s illness is ( ).

v Nanao has discovered something in her captain’s bedroom. What is it?

v ( ) doesn’t happen in the manga.

White Cards

v The Quincy watching you from the shadows.

v A Menos Grande named Steve.

v Aizen’s bondage chair.

v Ishida wearing Ichigo’s sword like a hat.

v Tite Kubo’s fetish for cutting off arms.

v The heart.

v A sword that releases into an EVEN BIGGER SWORD!

v My pride.

v A noble scarf.

v Boobs.

v Very nice sideburns.

v Ichigo’s closet.

v Getting a tattoo on your face because you once saw a dude with the same tattoo on his chest.

v An obscene tattoo.

v Complimenting another dudes’ eyebrows because eyebrows are cool, dude.

v Shunpo (flash step).

v Eyebrows that are just, freakishly long.

v Zombie slaves.

v A bunny named Chappy.

v Screaming Kurosaki Ichigo’s name.

v The empty chair in the sky.

v Perfect hypnosis.

v A nickname from Yachiru.

v Talking to your guitar like it is sentient.

v The despair squad.

v Justice.

v A bucket worn on the head like a helmet.

v Talking cats.

v Putting Urahara into a box for an entire month.

v A pink flowered kimono.

v A stray dog, down to my bones.

v Squad 4 being too late to actually heal you.

v Aizen getting high on Ulquiorra’s eye sparkles.

v Stabbing Momo Hinamori.

v Ulquiorra holding out his hand as he turns to dust.

v Healing mucus.

v Endless Pursuit.

v Admiral Seaweed.

v A hand that doubles as a drill.

v A caterpillar baby with poisonous chest spikes.

v Ignoring serious head wounds.

v Unohana with her hair down.

v Instinct.

v Plushies that are alive.

v Tea.

v My inner hollow.

v A city on its side.

v The rain.

v A dead mother.

v Urahara’s hat.

v A hell butterfly.

v Because it is all according to my plan. - Aizen

v Byakuya’s hair piece.

v The Ouken (The Kings Key).

v Piles of paperwork.

v Mysterious transfer students.

v Resurreccion Segunda Etapa (Second-Stage Resurreccion).

v BANKAI!

v Ichigo’s blinding hair that every other anime protagonist has.

v Nerd Aizen.

v Getsuga Tensho (Basically, Fuck everything in that direction).

v Mugetsu.

v Yoruichi’s fuzzy paws.

v Quincy brainwashing.

v A powerless Ichigo.

v Harribel’s under-boob.

v Tatsuki punching Chizuru off of Orihime every morning.

v Las Noche’s being so huge.

v Crystal tree’s in Hueco Mundo.

v Mugetsu’s majestic, waist-length, black hair.

v The holy Substitute Shinigami arc.

v Everyone randomly giving Toshiro candy all the time.

v Aizen's butterfly form that made all fans stare in horror.

v Orihime’s usefulness and character development other that her breasts.

v The beach episode that came from an omake and a 2-page art piece.

v Ulquiorra’s habit of creating a hole in his victim’s chest.

v Rangiku in a cat suit.

v Hyorinmaru’s stoic face.

v The tragic ending of Bleach.

v Gin creepily staring at everyone with a knowing grin from afar.

v Grimmjow’s Resurreccions blue kitty ears.

v The fact that Ikkaku shares an uncanny resemblance to Saitama from One Punch Man.

v The bromance of the entire 11th division.

v Ichigo’s cero destroying the chains of Hell.

v The Diamond Dust Rebellion movie.

v Mayuri without his makeup and headgear.

v Urahara smirking behind his fan.

v Just a simple candy shop owner.

v The rejoicing of every Ichihime and Renruki shipper at the ending.

v Kenpachi’s hair style of death.

v The fact that Isshin is Kaien, Ganju and Kuukakku’s uncle. Also, that he was the head of the Noble Shiba clan.

v Yumichika’s soul sucking, colour sensitive, flowery, peacock zanpakuto.

v Grimmjow’s abs.

v Ulquiorra cosplaying as batman.

v The Espada at Aizen’s tea parties.

v Noitora’s 6 arms.

v All of the Ichigo shippers going to war.

v The despair of every Ichiruki and Ishihme shipper at the ending.

v Fights that take 10 episodes to finish.

v Fighting a captain.

v Sacrificing yourself in a horrific and violent manner.

v The canon ships.

v Bleach S Abridged in general.

v Ichigo’s hollow and Old Man Zangetsu drinking in Ichigo’s inner world.

v Dark Rukia.

v Just kiss him already.

v Cero.

v Whatever animal Kon is.

v Insulting your former captain.

v A secret sake stash.

v A Mashiro Super Kick.

v Stabbing people in the chest with your hand.

v The Onmitsukido.

v Flinging your friend from the top of Soukyouku Hill.

v Using forbidden Kido.

v Ukitake’s chronic illness.

v Getting lost in every single division barracks.

v Having Kido backfire on you.

v Explaining your abilities to your opponent.

v Mayuri’s questionable fashion sense.

v A ridiculous amount of spiritual pressure.

v Hell.

v High level Kido spells cast without incantations.

v Betrayal.

v Kuchiki Byakuya’s perfect hair.

v Noble families.

v Orihime’s attempts at seducing Ichigo.

v Sosuke Aizen. Enough said.

v Yoruichi turning into a cat.

v Accepting Ichigo’s offer to see his ‘Ultimate Zanpakuto’.

v Untreated PTSD.

v Shiro’s horns right up the ass.

v Killing Masaki.

v Dying heroically for no reason.

v The MRSA (Men’s Soul Reapers Association)

v Getting stabbed in the chest.

v Karakura Town.

v Rangiku’s necklace that falls between her boobs.

v Pure chaos.

v Central 46 being murdered by Aizen.

v Getting stabbed by your captain.

v Saving the world before turning 16.

v Muramasa’s Zanpakuto filler arc that is underrated.

v Ikkaku Madarame’s shiny bald head.

v Strawberry-chan.

v Isshin’s suspicious white van.

v Pretending not to have Bankai.

v The Maggot’s nest with Urahara in charge.

v Tekking101’s weekly Bleach chapter review.

v Kenpachi Zaraki killing everyone in the nearby vicinity.

AN: Hey guys this is my second completed deck, using Bleach, again I don’t own anything and i encourage you to make your own or even use these. They are extremely fun to play. Thanks for reading.

Have a good one!

-Claire

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gastricpierrot · 7 years

Text

Title: When Stars Align

Series: Daiya no Ace

Pairing: KuraRyou

Rating: T

Summary: Nothing good ever comes out of an intimate relationship between a human and a youkai, Ryousuke knows. He’s heard more than enough stories on betrayal, on disasters, on families being shunned. And being an onmyouji, he knows better than anyone else.

And yet, he lets himself fall.

Warning: what is flow omf

Also on AO3

[Ch.1]

[Ch.2]

Youichi does start getting used to it, eventually.

He learns how to maintain his barrier subconsciously, how to sense when he’s got people visiting his shrine so he can return from his daily wandering, and how to abuse his quick flight to zip back in time and hear the important parts of their prayers. He does feel a little bad at times, though. Pleas for safety and bountiful crops, he can handle; but prayers for a quick or miraculous recovery of a health condition? Not really. Not at all, in fact. It’s outside his specialisation and the villagers should know that already. Mountain tengu are protectors and fighters, but never healers. Yet they go to him, desperate for a salvation he can’t grant.

Sympathizing too much with humans is dangerous, he remembers being warned multiple times over his training. Even a deity is not omnipotent, and to be affected by the struggles of humans would distract them from doing what they can do. It affects their judgements, shakes their resolve to remain impartial. Youichi sighs. This really is difficult.

He turns his attention downwards when he feels a presence approaching his shrine, and nearly falls off his tree when he sees a familiar head of pink hair. What’s Ryousuke doing here this time of the day? Is he here to nag him about something again because Youichi’s sure he’s been doing well so far and he doesn’t exactly need criticism at the moment. But wait—Youichi fights back his instinctive unease and makes himself look properly. His visitor may creepily resemble Ryousuke to a T at first glance, but there’s something about them that’s different. They’re a little… slighter than Ryousuke is, perhaps even younger. Even the air they carry is less prickly, more calming.

“Harucchi! I see him up there!!”

Youichi winces at the loud voice, immediately glaring at the source bounding alongside Ryousuke’s lookalike. He’s considering jumping down to give him a good roundhouse kick on the ass and shut him up until he does a double-take because isn’t he a…?

“Eijun-kun, shhh!” ‘Harucchi’ chides, a finger on his lips. Youichi’s raises his eyebrows. He can see them too? “You’re disturbing the youkai here.”

“He’s glaring at me now!! Harucchi!!” Eijun protests, stabbing a finger at Youichi’s direction. At this point, Youichi is already rolling up his sleeves because god, this kid is annoying. He pauses when Haruichi proceeds to clamp his hand behind Eijun’s head, turns to Youichi’s direction, and drags Eijun into a bow with him. And yeah, definitely Ryousuke’s brother, Youichi thinks. Not many others have the hair, sight, presence and unexpected violence like they do.

“We apologize for the commotion, Youichi-sama,” Haruichi says, ignoring Eijun’s complaints. Well. At least this Kominato has more manners. Also, Youichi can see his eyes, which is a nice contrast to facing his elder brother. It makes him easier to read this way, unlike Ryousuke who always remains so closed off and enigmatic.

“You’re Ryou-san’s brother?” Youichi drops from his perch, landing on the ground with barely a thud. Haruichi straightens, and nods.

“Yes, my name’s Haruichi.” Haruichi doesn’t seem fazed by the recognition at all, as well as the fact that a tengu refers to his brother by honorific. He gestures to his companion next. “And this is Eijun-kun. It’s an honour to finally meet you in person, Youichi-sama.”

Eijun keeps his gaze averted, apparently still grumpy from Haruichi’s rough handling. He crosses his arms tighter across his chest, and mumbles a barely coherent “Hey.”

Youichi sees no reason to hold back with this one. With a high-pitched cackle, he tackles Eijun to the ground, pinning him on his stomach. He then straddles his lower back, and twists his legs back until he begs for mercy.

“Is that how you greet someone of a higher rank than you, huh? Little brat!” Youichi says, though he notices how his words lack bite to them. Eijun makes a string of strangled noises, reaching for Haruichi.

“Harucchi h-help—legs—fal—off— “

And Haruichi, no doubt inheriting the savage Kominato traits, pretends to be extremely interested in a nearby bush.

“Hm? What’s that? You want me to let go?” Youichi asks smugly, leaning closer to Eijun’s head while using his weight to keep him in place. Eijun struggles for a second more before finally going still and submitting to his fate. Youichi, who prides himself in not being as much of a sadist as a certain Ryousuke is, releases him and gets off.

“So.” Youichi straightens his robes and addresses Haruichi. “What brings you here?”

“Ah, right!” Haruichi seems to suddenly remember the basket in his hands. “I brought you some offerings, Youichi-sama. I hope you’d like some steamed buns and oranges.”

His gaze is earnest, his amber eyes bright and perhaps a little bit naive. Youichi catches himself wondering if Ryousuke’s eyes were the same colour. Probably not. He seems to be the kind who’d have the red eyes of a demon.

“S-Sure,” he clears his throat. “I appreciate it, Haruichi.”

Haruichi smiles with so much sweetness that all Youichi can think is how. He’s still baffled over his and Ryou-san’s relation when Haruichi walks over to the still-fallen Eijun and offers a hand.

“Harucchi hates me,” Eijun whines into the dirt, unmoving.

“To be honest, you asked for that,” Haruichi states and okay, maybe the only difference between him and Ryousuke is that Haruichi learnt to be more polite to strangers and elders. Forget Ryou-san’s threat; Youichi has enough self-love to put a healthy amount of distance between him and Haruichi before he ends up being roasted twice the amount.

Eijun’s quick to recover, though, springing upright from his position on the ground with an unnecessary roar after a minute of gentle persuasion from Haruichi’s part. Despite his earlier irritation, Youichi feels a pang of inexplicable fondness in his chest as he watches the two of them interact—maybe even a bit of wistfulness. Must be nice to be so youthful and carefree.

“Huh? Wanna go at it again?” Youichi challenges when Eijun turns to glower at him once more, teeth bared in a sneer. Eijun’s frown deepens as the seconds stretch on, but he doesn’t yell his words when he speaks next.

“I’m sorry,” is all he mumbles before turning back to his companion and ushering him towards the shrine. “Now let’s go and put those on the altar, Harucchi. The sooner we can go back, the better!”

“Ehh, but I want to talk to Youichi-sama for a bit first,” Haruichi protests, letting Eijun drag him by the arm nonetheless. Youichi takes a moment to recover from his stunned daze resulting from Eijun’s apology before moving to join them under the shade of the shrine.

“I’m telling you, this is a terrible idea,” Eijun insists as Haruichi arranges the food across the altar, stealing scowls at Youichi every now and then. He hides behind him as though someone shorter than him by an entire head would be able to defend him from any kind of physical attack. Then again, this is Ryousuke’s sibling they’re talking about, so Youichi figures maybe it’s not all impossible. “You saw how violent he was with me! One wrong word and he’ll probably break your neck or something!”

“Eijun-kun, you’re being loud again,” Haruichi points out with the patience of a saint. He neatly folds the piece of cloth he’s holding and places it in his now-empty basket. “You can just stay behind me if you’re that afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid of him!”

“Yes, yes.” Haruichi reaches to ruffle his hair. Youichi’s part amused and part intimidated by how perfectly Haruichi has Eijun wrapped around his finger. It takes conscious effort for him to resist flinching when Haruichi turns back to him, though the remorseful look he’s wearing makes him lower his defences once more. “My brother has been really harsh on you, hasn’t he, Youichi-sama?”

Taken by surprise, Youichi nearly stammers. “Well…”

“Even after I asked him to hold back,” Haruichi sighs, mostly to himself. “Aniki sure is a stubborn one.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” Youichi grumbles, rolling his eyes. He crosses his legs, rests an elbow on the side of his knee, and balances his chin with an upturned palm. “I know what he says is mostly true, but is it really necessary to be so blunt? I am still a tengu, geez.”

“How unbecoming of a mountain guardian to be laying his woes to a human,” Eijun whispers conspiringly into Haruichi’s ear, putting little effort into lowering his voice enough to actually make it sound like one. He hisses and shirks further behind Haruichi when Youichi shoots him a death stare.

“Aniki might not sugar-coat his words, but he usually means well,” Haruichi says with a sheepish laugh, holding up his hands in hopes to placate the situation. “Usually.”

“That’s not convincing and you know it,” Youichi points out, feeling much less bitter than he lets on. He’s eventually come to grudgingly admit that Ryousuke was right on a lot of things, and that being told straight out about his mistakes would definitely be more productive. Also, with how things are playing out he’s realized that perhaps the only way to shut up types like him is to go out there and prove him wrong. He appreciates Haruichi for not making any apologies on his brother’s behalf because really, there’s no need for him to do that. Youichi would very much prefer to hear the words from Ryousuke’s own mouth, if anything. Though he knows that’s about as likely as the sun rising from the west, hah.

“Something wrong?” Youichi asks when Haruichi looks at him strangely. In response, Haruichi only shakes his head.

“You don’t seem to dislike him as much I expected, and I’m really glad,” he admits. Then much to Youichi’s horror, he adds, “the two of you might even end up getting along well at this rate.”

“I would prefer not to,” Youichi declares with evident disgust, and Haruichi—the nerve!—only laughs at his expense.

“That’s a shame,” he says, his gaze softening. “Aniki seems to have taken some kind of liking to you, Youichi-sama.”

“Which part of constant verbal abuse proves that he likes me?” Youichi demands, quite unable to process even the slightest possibility of Ryousuke harbouring any kind of fondness towards him. Haruichi shrugs helplessly, like he’s yet to believe what he just said, either.

“Maybe it’s because onii-san’s finally found someone masochistic enough to bear with h—ow!” Eijun’s casual (and unnecessary) suggestion was cut short by a flying orange at his face. Youichi forces himself to take a deep breath as he lowers his hand, refusing to get excessively worked up over this particular matter. For some cursed reason he can’t comprehend, he feels his ears burning from Eijun’s stupid comment.

“Ah, he’s blushing.” Eijun has to be the one to notice first. Before Youichi could think of a way to possibly silence him forever, Haruichi stands up abruptly, making an uncharacteristically loud comment about how it’s getting dark and that they should really stop disturbing Youichi and go back. He then says something to Eijun about reaching home before Aniki scolds him for slacking off, his undertone obvious enough for even Eijun to understand shortly.

“Thank you so much for your company today, Youichi-sama,” Haruichi manages to remember his manners even in his haste to flee before his friend really gets smitten. “We’ll come by again when we can.”

And with that, he drags Eijun away with him, their voices quickly drowned out by the usual noises of the forest as they make their way along the path downhill. Youichi waits to lose sight of them behind the foliage before flopping face-first onto his shrine’s wooden flooring, wishing he could disappear after that mortifying display. He might as well have announced aloud that he’s indeed a masochist.

He really hopes those two are merciful enough to keep it a secret between them.

xXx

Ryousuke stares at the alignment of symbols on his divination board, unease settling in the base of his stomach like dense tar.

Things do not look good. He’s redone the process five times just to be absolutely sure, but he keeps coming to the same conclusion. Some great calamity is about to happen. Ryousuke can’t say for sure what the calamity actually is, but he foresees waves and waves darkness, negativity. Prying into the future has never yielded to much; information is always vague, facts uncertain. Even Ryousuke’s predictions skew at times; what he’s seeing now could simply be another false alarm.

He relies on his instincts when it comes to cases like this. He could sense something bad happening soon—but what and when? Is a high-level youkai going to run rampant and leave a path of destruction in its wake? Will the seal of an entrance to the Other world be broken and unleash Hell’s own forces into his own? Will there be a plague? An uprising? Will something go horribly wrong in the upcoming Hyakki Yagyō? It’s difficult to tell if he can ever predict that far before the event happens. Should he issue a warning now or later? Should he issue one at all? It’s a tough call to make.

“You’re unusually quiet today,” Ryousuke point out without looking, addressing the figure lingering around the door of his office. It shimmers, its form flitting in the shadows as it moves.

“It’s my first time seeing you this unsettled, Ryousuke. Is it really that bad?”

Ryousuke takes his time replying to that, gazing thoughtfully at the inscriptions carved into his divination board. “I can’t say for certain at the moment,” he admits in the end. Then putting some edge into his voice, he turns toward the ghost and adds, “don’t be quick to go around spreading rumours now, Jun.”

“That was one time,” Jun says defensively. When Ryousuke raises an eyebrow at him, he reluctantly confesses, “Fine. That was a lot of times. Heck, you should try being stuck in the same place for a few hundred years with only small insignificant creatures to talk to!”

“Do I have to seal your voice again?” Ryousuke suggests offhandedly, a paper talisman already between his fingers. Jun immediately backs up several steps—or at least it would be several steps if his legs aren’t completely vapour from the knees down.

“Not a single word of this from me will make it out of this room, I promise!” Jun swears with a volume of voice that can probably be heard all the way down the corridor. Ryousuke would really like him to realize that it’s his loudness that usually starts the rumours, but no such luck again today, unfortunately. Jun exhales in obvious relief when Ryousuke tucks his talisman away; he’s lucky Ryousuke’s dealt with Eijun enough to be so lenient. When he speaks again, his tone is grave. “But an event that can worry even you like that…I wonder what could it be?”

“We have no other choice but to wait and see at this point.” Concern creeps into Ryousuke’s voice despite his efforts to sound neutral. It’s his first time coming across an omen as terrible as this; he genuinely hopes he’s being paranoid this time. If something of a huge scale is to happen, lots of damage might be done before it can be stopped.

“Guess so.” Jun crosses his arms, immersed in his own thoughts. Ryousuke shifts to stand up, gathering his tools in his arms.

“Wouldn’t you be glad if it’s something that involves you spirits as well, though?” he says before their silence could take weigh, pushing some scrolls aside in a shelf compartment to make space. He doesn’t want to dwell on the prediction. “Maybe you’ll finally be able to move on if you get eaten, haha.”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that??” Jun argues, but the quaver in his voice betrays his worries. Ryousuke hums, sounding indifferent to the outcome either way. “And it’s not like I want to move on. You’d be surprised at how fun it is to watch humans do stupid things almost every single day.”

“As I remember correctly, you were a human once too,” Ryousuke reminds him, giving no signs of being affected by Jun’s general comment. “What’s more, a member of the esteemed Isashiki clan dying because the curse you were trying to break rebounded on you? That’s pathetic.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t move on!” Jun protests, realizing the rise in volume of his voice only when he sees the slight twitch of Ryousuke’s lips. He hastily fixes his tone to a grumble, “everyone I knew should be dead by now and they’ll surely tease me if we meet in the afterlife.”

“Wouldn’t want my fun taken from me,” Ryousuke agrees, promptly coercing a sound of protest from the spirit.

“Which reminds me,” Jun pointedly shifts the focus as he lets Ryousuke walk right through him without as much as a flinch, “I saw the new tengu wandering around the other day. He sure looks like a delinquent, doesn’t he? He even glared at me the moment he saw me! The disrespect!”

“I’m sure that’s your own fault somehow or another,” Ryousuke says, being all-too familiar with Jun’s tendency to yell rude remarks as a show of amiability. You’d think someone who’s around for so long would have learnt to take a hint. “However,” Ryousuke pauses for a second before continuing, “I have to agree that Youichi looks to be quite an unruly one at first glance.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already tamed him, too.” Jun stares at him incredulously. Ryousuke only smiles.

“Who knows,” he replies airily, pulling out a paper fan to counter the summer heat that assaults his skin the moment he’s out from shade. Jun drifts by his side, expecting an elaboration he isn’t giving. Eventually accepting that he won’t be getting any more out of the onmyouji, Jun loses interest and mutters some excuse to go somewhere else. Ryousuke doesn’t stop him, merely making his way towards the Head Officer’s room to report his findings—or, the less frightening parts of them, at least.

Summer’s a busy period for the Bureau of Onmyou Arts, being the most active season for youkai. Ryousuke has to work extra to prepare for the Hyakki Yagyō that’s expected to pass their village in less than a week’s time, going the lengths to make sure a minimum number of reckless idiots would be spirited away or generally traumatized because they fail to heed his warnings of staying indoors from sundown to sunrise on the particular day. It falls within his responsibility to guide lost spirits as well (which, there are plenty over the months,) sightings of them reported to him by the smaller, harmless youkai that roam the streets.

And sometimes when things get too serious, he’s summoned to the main branch of the Bureau in the Capital City to provide support.

Ryousuke doesn’t want to complain, really. He’d prefer an occasional two-day journey to the Capital over staying there permanently any day. One of the perks of being powerful is that he managed to used that to his favour when fighting for permission to remain in the village where he grew up instead of residing in the Capital like most other onmyouji of his calibre. That place is even more infested with youkai than Youichi’s mountain, and a significant number of them hostile, to boot. As much as Ryousuke loves a good challenge, even he has to draw a line somewhere. Not to mention there are a handful of arrogant deities stationed there whom he doesn’t exactly get along well with. A small number of visits to the Capital was enough to make Ryousuke sick of the place.

But going back to the bit on his summer workload—at least Youichi’s been doing a marginally better job recently. He’s finally starting to produce the impression of a tengu and not an infant youkai stumbling around trying to grasp the workings of the world. Ryousuke also figures that despite all that talk about his duty to keep a firm watch over the mountain especially after sunset, Youichi’s simply not the type to stay still for long when there’s something going on. Twice already Ryousuke has stopped halfway to a scene because he sensed interference from a presence that could only be Youichi’s. He can’t say he didn’t appreciate the help, but he’d be grateful if he could at least give him a heads up before he wastes energy rushing out just to discover an intruder’s already been dealt with. He would very much prefer to save whatever energy he has left by the end of the day for situations where he seriously needs it.

“I think it’d be wise for us to decide on a system,” Ryousuke takes the initiative to suggest when he meets Youichi the next day after yet another night of wasted rushing. He bites back the urge to click his tongue when all he does is look at him in confusion.

“What are you ta— “then realization seems to suddenly hit him— “Oh. That.”

“I don’t suppose you understand how trying it is to have to deliberately leave the house in the middle of the night just to have to turn back midway,” Ryousuke says, edge creeping into his voice. Youichi, to his credit, doesn’t look too intimidated. In fact, he actually looks…defiant.

“But you weren’t fast enough, Ryou-san,” is all he says, his gaze steady.

“You should be aware that you’re the one with the abnormal speed, Youichi,” Ryousuke reminds him, though he couldn’t help feeling slightly satisfied by how Youichi’s standing his ground. He’d genuinely be disappointed if the local guardian turns out to be a spineless wimp. “Look, I know how strong those youkai were and I understand that you’re only playing your role as a protector, but— “

“You can’t expect me to just stay back and wait while things like those are about to storm into your village,” Youichi says, spreading an arm as though gesturing to a living specimen of said “thing” to emphasize his point. He dislodges a couple of feathers along with the movement.

“I expect you to be there if I ever fail,” Ryousuke shoots back calmly. “Or do you lack that much faith in my abilities?”

“I was just worried, alright?” Youichi scratches the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed by the admission. He ends up mumbling the latter part of what he says. “I was worried that if I’d waited for you, there might not have been anything left for me to protect.”

“I know.” Youichi yelps when Ryousuke lands a sharp chop on his head. “And I don’t expect you to stop feeling so anytime soon, which is why I’m having this conversation with you in the first place.”

“You mean,” Youichi begins reluctantly as he nurses the tender spot Ryousuke just assaulted, “you’re not pissed at me for messing with your job?”

“Frankly, I am getting rather annoyed,” Ryousuke admits, resuming his habit of linking his hands behind his back when he’s idle. Youichi blanches. “But since you’re genuinely thinking about guarding the village in this case, I suppose I shouldn’t make too many comments.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess?”

Ryousuke hums with half-hearted acknowledgement. “As I was saying, I was thinking maybe we should agree on an arrangement of some sort. It’ll be more efficient for the both of us that way.”

Youichi lowers his arms, nodding in full attention. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve placed my own barriers around the outskirts in addition to yours,” Ryousuke goes on, “depending on how strong the intruding youkai is, they should hold for around ten to twenty minutes. I can usually reach the location by then, but if I don’t or there more than three of them trying to break in simultaneously, you’re free to make your move. How does that sound?”

Youichi shrugs. “I can work with that. Though,” he knits his brow, “what happened to that bit on me being the last line of defence that you were so adamant about?”

Ryousuke purses his lips, contemplating if he should tell him. It’ll be a problem if the masses are to know about his prediction, that’s for certain. News of certain disaster will bound to cause widespread panic. But it’s Youichi he’s speaking to now. Ryousuke supposes he of all people has the right to know and prepare for the worst, being the local guardian.

“There might be a time soon where it wouldn’t even matter anymore if we can’t stop them before they reach the people,” he begins after a taking a moment to make sure there aren’t any youkai who’s eavesdropping nearby, careful to voice his words clearly. Taking note of the way Youichi stares at him in utter bafflement, he forges on, “I saw a really disturbing sign earlier today when divining. I can’t be sure what it’ll be, but something terrible is about to happen soon. It’s best that we brace ourselves.”

Youichi’s speechless for the next minute, which is understandable given the bombshell Ryousuke just casually dropped. Ryousuke feels a familiar weight in his chest; talking aloud about his premonition only made his unease well up again. He inhales, forcing the pressure back. He’s grown used to spontaneously handling sudden realizations of negative predictions throughout his career, but none of them have admittedly been as concerning as this.

“…Ryou-san?”

At the tentative call of his name, Ryousuke glances up. “What is it?”

“Are you okay?”

He blinks, taken aback. It’s not something he’s asked often, not by anyone besides Haruichi and occasionally Eijun. In fact, he can’t say he fancies hearing it from anyone other than those two. He’s too used to taking the phrase as belittling, patronizing. Those were words uttered too often by people who saw his struggles as futile, who doubted he could become who he is now even when he gave his all and more. Who laughed at him for trying and trying when they did not even bother.

“What makes you th— “Ryousuke breaks off, and takes another deep breath to calm his abrupt flare of temper. He’s not them, he reminds himself. Youichi isn’t the people of his past. “I’m fine,” he ends up biting out, more than anything.

It’s not like him to lose his cool so easily.

“Hey, it’s pretty normal to be nervous in a situation like this,” Youichi says, raising his hands defensively when Ryousuke stiffens. He’s a surprisingly sharp one. He then laughs a sheepish laugh as though to alleviate the increasingly stifling air around them, reaching to scratch his cheek. “And honestly? Even my palms are sweating like crazy right now after what you said.”

“Didn’t take you for the type who knows how to perceive fear,” Ryousuke confesses, a wayward smile sneaking its way to his lips with unexpected ease when Youichi shoots him a baleful look.

“Didn’t know you’d be the type who knows how to ask for help, either,” he remarks in return, to which Ryousuke finds he’s unable to argue. Youichi grins viciously at his loss of words, evidently triumphant to be able to out-snark him for once. Ryousuke decides to let him bask in his victory this time; he must admit Youichi’s earned it.

“But really—I’m sure we’ll be able to handle it if it’s the two of us,” Youichi continues even after Ryousuke lapses into silence. It’s difficult to tell from his tone if he’s trying to reassure Ryousuke or himself. Or maybe even both. Ryousuke wonders if he too, is able to sense something big happening soon.

“Just don’t hold me back,” he chooses to say in the end. Youichi laughs then; a confident two-toned laugh that befits the avian part of his image.

“You can count on that,” he assures, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. Ryousuke huffs, half weary, half something else he can’t quite put a name to.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

#kuraryou #kominato ryousuke #kuramochi youichi #diamond no ace #daiya no ace #did i mention i love sawaharu because i do i really do #theyre the purest??? and eijun calling ryousan oniisan will never fail to murder me im so weak #also eijun has ryousuke's number???? thats so??? aaaAAAAA #fanfiction

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