#(for the ones on the left side. ordered vertically. purple. blue. pink) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

diamondcrownacademy · 1 year ago

Text

DCA Info Part 27: Meet Allison Liddel 🐰

Allison Liddel (アリソン・リデル, Arison Rideru) is the dorm leader of Futterwacken. She is a rebellious girl with a whole lot of spunk, but she's also very curious and loves to explore.

History

Allison was born and raised in the Kingdom of Gardenia, being the daughter of Lewis Liddel and his wife, as well as being the elder twin sister of Maddison Liddel.

At some point during Allison's life, her parents divorced and Lewis took custody of both her and Maddison. Ever since then, Lewis has been constantly peer pressuring them into acting like noblewomen in the hopes of getting them to marry men of noble status in order to boost his own ego and climb the social ladder.

Personality

Curious yet spunky, Allison is a mischief maker at heart. The rebellious spirit in her comes from her hatred for her father's peer pressuring nature and this rebellious spirit causes her the reject anything feminine, but she's comfortable wearing dresses if they aren't too fancy. She also has a love for exploring, which can sometimes lead to trouble.

Appearance

Allison is a girl of average height in her mid-teens. She has fair skin, turquoise colored eyes and short reddish pink, almost watermelon pink hair with side swept bangs parted to the left side of her head and the tips of her hair being flipped.

2020 School Uniform

Allison's 2020 school uniform is very "unique" to her. She wears a bright sky blue sailor top with turquoise gem buttons, mid-length sleeves with blue-green blue cuffs, a dark cerulean blue collar with an argyle like pattern of hearts, spades, clovers and diamonds with one of the aforementioned shapes being shown in the center of each diamond, a blue-green flowy collar flap and a dark turquoise scarf tied to the collar. At the waist, Allison wears a dark turquoise belt with a bow at the right side. The bottom half of her uniform consists of a two layered skirt, with the top layer being a semi-ombré dark cerulean blue while the bottom layer has the same coloring and pattern as the sailor top's collar. Allison also wears dark turquoise and white horizontal striped leggings alongside a pair dark turquoise Mary Janes with gold soles and buckles.

Allison accessorizes with a dark turquoise ribbon headband with a crown shaped charm in the center and a dark turquoise choker with a bow in the center. Allison's most noticeable accessory is the gold waist chain of keys, which are the way of verifying the students affiliated with the Futterwacken dorm. The gold key shapes and gems are as follows: a red heart, a blue spade, a green clover and a yellow diamond.

2021 School Uniform

Very little changed about Allison's uniform, the only differences include the skirt's top layer now being a solid dark cerulean blue and her ribbon headband, scarf and belt are now colored black.

Dorm Uniform

For her dorm uniform, Allison wears a blue and yellow dress with a white undershirt, a yellow shirt collar with gold ribbon and a gold pin shaped like a door lock, a solid blue bodice with yellow vertical line detailing in the center, white cap sleeves with gold trimming over blue puff sleeves with pale yellow trimming and gold ribbon near the trimmings edge. At the waist, Allison wears a purple belt with a pink diamond pattern attached to a white apron. The belt also has golden trim on the top and bottom and a gold pocket watch which is attached to the waist chain of keys on the left side of her waist. The dress' skirt has pale yellow and light blue vertical stripes with card shape patterns. The bottom of the skirt has gold ribbon and lace trimming. The gold ribbon has card suits on it, this includes a red heart, black spade, block clover and red diamond. Underneath the skirt, Allison wears a white ruffle petticoat and pale yellow bloomers with gold ribbon and ruffle trim. For footwear, Allison wears a pair a black Mary Janes with the strap having lace, alongside purple and pink horizontal striped leggings.

Allison retains the headband for her school uniform for her dorm uniform. However, she also wears a pair of bracelets that resemble tuxedo cuffs with gold buttons.

Solo Stage Uniform

Allison's vocal performance uniform is different from the others. She wears a top with triangular hems on each side. The center of the top is a silvery teal color and has four diamonds going down vertically and within said diamonds are a pair of smaller diamonds, with horizontal beige diamonds and brown vertical diamonds. On both sides of middle section are vertical watermelon pink and pale yellow triangle patterns. The sides of the top are dark teal, divided by dark pink vertical ribbon. The top's spread collar is the same silvery teal as the top's center and it additionally has watermelon pink ribbon, lace trimming and in the upper center is a pale yellow lacy collar flap with the same watermelon pink ribbon as before. The top also has juliet sleeves, with the puff portion having pink ribbon hems and being silvery teal and pale yellow, the long sleeve portion is light butterscotch in color and have ruffle hems. At the waist, Allison wears a pink bow attached to four colored ribbons with gold detailing and card shape on each one, this includes a pink ribbon with a heart, a blue ribbon with a spade, a green ribbon with a clover and a yellow ribbon with a diamond. Her pants are a two toned teal, with the right side being a lighter shade than the left, the right side also has a pink ribbon tied to it and the pants have cuffs with light pink diamonds inside and pink ribbon on the top and bottom. For footwear, Allison wears a pair of pink low heeled shoes with dusty rose colored soles, rounded arch topline, and gold strap detailing with pink flowers on top. She additionally wears gold anklets and dark teal stockings.

Allison accessorizes with a small gold crown with light and dark blue diamond shaped gems on it, a pale teal hair bow, and a dark blue-green scarf tie. She also wears a pink X shaped hair clip and attached to it is a gold beaded string with a blue heart shaped gem set in gold and has a gold pearl at its tip. Allison additionally wears pink bracelets with light pink diamonds inside.

Rabbit Chase Outfit

Likely worn for Hatter Day parties, Allison wears a red tailcoat coat with black outline. The tailcoat additionally has a white lapel with black outline, three yellow roses that appear to be connected to a white fur collar, white cuffs with black trimming and gold buttons on them and a pom-pom on each "tail" of the tailcoat. The tailcoat is worn over a light violet dress, with the top having honey yellow details resembling petals. Over the top is a honey yellow vest with black buttons and a red outline. The skirt is the same light violet color as the top and has a clock pattern on it. The skirt also has two ruffle hems, with the first one being honey yellow and resembles a ballerina tutu and the second layer being a black ruffle one. For footwear, Allison sports a pair of below-the-knees red low heeled boots with white cuffs that have pocket watches with rabbit ears on them and the toeboxes of the boots are white and made to resemble rabbit feet. The white parts also have a black outline.

Allison accessorizes with a red top hat that includes a light violet band with gold outline, white rabbit ears with lavender interiors, a bronze handled white teacup with green leaves and a rose. The back of the top hat has a piece of pale yellow fabric with lace trim and is connected to a pair of black and red ribbons with pom-poms at the end. She additionally accessorizes with a lavender ruffle collar with a black crossover tie with a red rose in the center. The rose is connected to a gold chain, which is in-turn connected to a gold pocket watch with rabbit ears on it. Allison also sports a pair of white gloves.

School Statistics

Allison is a 17 year old 2nd year student. She is classified as Student #5 and is in Class 2-E. She is a member of the Theater Club and her best subjects are Magic History and Party Hosting, with the latter being her favorite school subject due to her desire to throw amazing and less boring parties. Her least favorite school subject is Basic Etiquette due to her rebellious nature and she refuses to act like a lady.

For her idol performances, Allison has a loud voice that can still carry rhythm. Allison prefers to sing more energetic songs and she can sometimes sing fast lyrics without problem.

For her choreography, Allison provides lots of movement on stage with plenty of jumping and skipping. She's all over the place.

Relationships

Family

Allison has a negative relationship with her father, who constantly tries to peer pressure her and Maddison to act like proper high class ladies and likely get them to marry into nobility so that he can boost his social status.

Allison's relationship with Maddison and her mother were more positive. Prior to her parents divorce, her mom would read them stories and nursery rhymes and it's likely she didn't try to peer pressure them like their father did. While Maddison is more quiet and reserved, she does care about Allison and also dislikes her father's egotistical nature.

Pet

Allison has a pet hare named, Tock. He's NOT rabbit cause hares are bigger and could match her pace. Also it won't hesitate to use the magic doorway while most animals would be scared to go in.

Fellow Students

It's likely that because of her easygoing and social nature, Allison has a lot of mutuals. Thought she is shown to get on Evonie's nerves on occasion.

Night Raven College Students

Riddle thinks that she's strange and would be a troublemaker with how often she accidentally ends up in NRC through the magic doors. There have been times where he is tempted to use Off With Your Head on her sometimes because she can be annoying at times. And he thinks the dorm she runs is more chaotic than Heartslabyul. The one thing he likes about her is that the tea and food art is decent enough and he liked the singing flowers.

Ace finds Allison fun to be around. These two are the double trouble doing reckless stuff and exchanging memes at 3 am. They have a lot of inside jokes that people won't get but them.

Deuce is the mediator but if he gets into a fight Allison would bring the popcorn and watch on the sidelines. But he thinks she's a fun person to be around, albeit maybe the spunky energy just makes him want to do something reckless too.

Trey tries to keep her out of trouble. He's the official mediator because Deuce does a crappy job. He knows she is probably a sweet girl but he just needs her to calm tf down. He can't catch up with all that energy. Though he appreciates her skills in food art and would like to hold a baking session and serve it at the next unbirthday party.

Cater recognizes her as the user who posts food art on MagiCam. Instant social media friends. He's a big fan of her work and he will try to ask her what else she can turn a cake into. A teapot, a pile of books, a rose there are so many things she can replicate with cake batter and frosting.

Vil isn't very fond of her. She does what she pleases and has corrupted the first year he was currently training, Epel. He just looks at her like a disappointed mother whenever she shows up. Allison ain't warming up to him either. She once told Epel that anymore make up and his face will become literal cake. Which made Epel choke on the apple he was eating. Also she thinks Vil is Highness in human form.

Allison would definitely urge Epel to go feral and she's taking photos to remember this historical moments. She's made an album all about him. Titled "The Documentaries of a Feral-Almost-French Boy". Epel has an enabler and you can't deny that. Also there can be moments these two don't cause a mess, Allison and him making apple treats and leave cakes that look like vases around Pomefiore.

Ever since Rook took the spotlight when he visited the theater club in DCA, Allison has been bitter about how he'd play a better male lead than her. She sees him as his rival for "prince charming". Rook on the other hand plays along and does everything to fluster her which infuriates her even more.

Idia doesn't want to be near her because she's on the same list as the bright and optimistic people that could blind him. If anything at least he's glad Ortho found a friend in her but don't try to drag him along. Her energy is a terrible matchup against Idia's introvert spirit. She once used her unique magic to teleport into his room and he screamed bloody murder and chucked a controller at her direction.

Ortho being a kid and Allison being a kid at heart she'd play a lot of weird but fun games with him like hide and seek where he has to guess which door she went through and all. Those two have a secret handshake and probably have a treehouse somewhere tbh. Ortho is curious so he'd want to know what Allison will do next. She's unpredictable even to his calculations.

Romance

Allison desires a significant other who has the same energy as her but is also the voice of reason. A significant other who is both fun but reasonable.

Powers and Abilities

• Magic: Much like her fellow students, Allison can use magic.

• Hanging Upside-Down: Allison is stated to be skilled at hanging upside-down, she's even able to drink tea upside-down.

• Food Art Skills: Allison is stated to be a professional on food art. Being able to make a huge variety of designs in a short time, students look forward to what kind of sweets she'll make sculptures of. However there will be occasions where she makes food look like objects. Ella learned this the hard way when she mistook cakes for teacups.

Unique Magic

Allison's unique magic is called "Enchanted Doorways" (不思議の国への鍵/エンチャント・ドアウェイ, Enchanto Doau~ei; lit. "Key to Wonderland"). She can travel to places she previously visited, but it has it's limits. She constantly it to travel because she just like walking through the doorways that look like LSD on the inside. Also she sometimes doesn't feel like walking a long distance and wants a shortcut instead.

Voice

According to her bio, Allison's Japanese voice actress would be Ayaka Ōhashi, known for her roles as Ran Shibuki in Aikatsu!, Sāya Yamabuki in BanG Dream!, and Uzuki Shimamura in The Idolmaster Cinderella Girls.

Trivia

• Her birthday is on May 4th, making her a Taurus.

• She is 163 cm tall.

• Her favorite food is Cookies, with her personal favorite being chocolate chip while her least favorite food is Mushrooms. She dislikes boring parties and small places.

• She enjoys pulling pranks.

• Her preferred Styling Jewel Outfit Styles are Cute and Quirky.

• For her casual attire, Allison would mostly wear harajuku inspired clothing.

• Her favorite colors are Teal, Cyan and Red.

• She is dubbed "Little Puffin" (ツノメドリちゃん, Tsunomedori-chan) by Floyd due to her easygoing nature and the fact that she is all over the place.

• Allison’s Overblot would occur if she had an argument with her father and he would straight up tells her something about her mother that makes her upset.

• In the future, Allison would be a pastry chef or cafe owner.

• Allison loves anything sweet, but she especially loves desserts that use cookies.

• Allison would smell like something weird, she adventurous.

• Her signature scent would be a mixture of whatever sweets she ate and a hint of tea.

• Allison is afraid of feeling left out. This is why she tends to be loud and all over the place.

• Although, despite being the planner of tea parties, Allison prefers pink lemonade over tea because she likes drinks that are cold and refreshing.

• When she gets bored, she’d go around the dorm’s supply closet and play make believe with the floating furniture and decor there. There’s one character she made out of a tin foil covered bucket and a fake blonde wig with a cardboard crown who she named, Princess Tintina. Because of the unusual chaos in the dorm, sometimes Tintina would walk about on her own pouring imaginary tea for herself which freaks out the other students.

#allison liddel #DCA info #meet the dorm leaders #diamond crown academy

13 notes · View notes

your-fave-is-crippled · 1 year ago

Text

flag list 4

[pt: flag list 4]

emotional support animal, guide animal and therapy animal haver flags (animal aid flags/flags for people with animal aids)

flags under cut

in order: esa user, esa cat, esa dog, by us on @/fantasy-store

image one: [id: a flag with a grey border around 7 vertical stripes ranging from left to right as hot pink, pink, light pink, pale pink, peach, orange peach and pink-orange. :end id]

image two: [id: a flag with a grey border around 7 vertical stripes ranging from left to right as bright purple, purple-pink, fuschia, peach, orange peach and pink-orange. :end id]

image three: [id: a flag with a grey border around 7 vertical stripes ranging from left to right as bright purple, purple-pink, fuschia, pink, light pink, pale pink and light pink. :end id]

esa rabbit, by us on @/fantasy-store

image four: [id: a flag with a grey border around 7 vertical stripes ranging from left to right as medium pink, pink, light pink, pale pink, pastel pink, pink pearl and light pearl. :end id]

guide dog user, by us on @/fantasy-store

image five: [id: a flag with a grey border around 7 vertical stripes ranging from left to right as teal, light green, light olive, muted yellow, light orange, muted orange and muted red-orange. :end id]

image six: [id: a banner with a blue to green gradient and water-filtering-light texture under a faintly transparent blue rectangular box. in the box is light blue text that reads "Blog is about disability, disabled characters and headcanons. may include occasional pd rep but otherwise do not derail. blocking where i see fir for my comfort, please remain respectful." on the top of the banner outside the blue box is more light blue text that reads "DNI if proship, terf, are a discourse blog and other basic dni stuff" in all caps. under the blue box at the bottom of the banner is more light blue text that reads "cripplepunk is for the physically disabled only" in all caps. on either side of the banner is an image of ryn from the show siren staring off to the side. :end id]

#flags we use #flag list #ryn chats #for pinned

2 notes · View notes

neopronouns · 3 years ago

Photo

homoflexible lesbian: 1 | 2 homoflexible lesboy: 1 | 2

my take on homoflexible lesbian and lesboy flags for tf2 anon! the left flags are based on this homoflexible flag, the right ones are based on this homoflexible flag, and the rest of the colors are from the lesbian and lesboy flags.

flag id: the top left flag has 4 stripes. in order, they are orange, light purple, dark red-pink, and very dark pink-purple. the top right flag has 3 vertical stripes on each side of the flag and 7 horizontal stripes in the center, with the third and fifth being larger than the rest and the fourth being larger than those. the vertical stripes on the left side are dark red-pink, red-pink, and white; the vertical stripes on the right side are white, orange, and red-orange; and the horizontal stripes are black, grey, white, black, white, grey, and black.

the bottom left flag has 4 stripes. in order, they are light orange, light purple, dark blue, and dark purple-pink. the bottom right flag has 3 vertical stripes on each side of the flag and 7 horizontal stripes in the center, with the third and fifth being larger than the rest and the fourth being larger than those. the vertical stripes on the left side are pink-red, light orange, and white; the vertical stripes on the right are white, soft indigo, and dark blue; and the horizontal stripes are black, grey, white, black, white, grey, and black. end id.

dni transcript here

#homoflexible lesbian #homoflexible lesboy #homoflexible #lesbian #lesboy #my flags #flag redesign #new flag #mogai flag #mogai term #mogai

59 notes · View notes

writteninkat · 3 years ago

Text

i - your grandma must have been strong

word count: 2,007

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

index

You zipped your last luggage closed, huffing tiredly as you stood up. You looked around you- your empty room, your plain, pink walls that were once decorated with many posters and pictures, your floor that was once covered by a big fluffy white rug and some clothes and stuffed toys.

You sigh, smiling. You were surely going to miss this place. Your back tingles as you turn around to see your mother leaning on the door frame, looking at you with sad eyes.

"Do you have to go?" Her voice is soft and calming- it always has been. She's the only person who could ever calm you down especially when your father left the two of you to work at the Heroes Association in Japan.

"I want to be able to protect people. Children, women, the elderly... I wanna be someone people can depend on. Someone you can depend on." You place a hand on her arm which she covers with her own, he warm palm along with her soft smile about to send you to tears.

She nods, walking inside your room to help with your baggage. "The movers just finished loading up your other stuff. All we need is your excess baggage." She pushes the luggage towards the door, you mirroring her actions.

She cups both of your cheeks, looking you at you with adoring, glassy eyes. It's your first time being separated from your mother in you sixteen years of existence. The two have always been attached to the hip, you traveled everywhere together, even as the two of you had constant arguments you could never stay mad at each other for too long.

She was the only one you had.

"Stay safe in Japan, okay? If your father gave you a hard time, call me. I'll pick you up no matter what time it is, no matter where you are. I love you." She kisses your forehead and you finally let your tears fall as you wrap your hands around her thing wrists.

"I love you so much mom." You sob, hanging your head as your mother wrapped her arms around you. You hear a voice of a woman through the speakers, telling you your flight was taking off in a few minutes.

You quickly give your mother a kiss on the cheek before letting one of your guards assist you with your bags. You waved good bye to your mom and soon after, your trusted body guard.

You were on your way to Japan, to a new life, a new school, new friends and hopefully to reach your new goal: to prove yourself worthy of becoming a hero without your father's help.

You walk towards the giant gates of UA, taking a deep breath before finally taking a step inside the campus. Your heart thumped on your chest nervously as your palms began to prespire. You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to do anything with the teens around you as your only goal was to pass the entrance exam. You walked inside the building you were lead to, taking a seat at the very back in fear of attracting any unwanted attention.

"What's up UA candidates?! Thanks for tuning into me your school DJ! Just as your application said, today you will be conducting your exams in seven different locations! Your location has been assigned to you in the paper you were given." The loud blond man with long hair swept way to the back of his head announced, making you click your tongue. Not to be a mood buster, but isn't he being a little too loud?

You take the piece of paper he was talking about, eyes lower to read the letter that's written on it. Test Location: Battle Center C.

"Excuse me sir but I have a question." Your eyes fall to a purple-headed boy with glasses whose hand is raised. The blond teacher acknowledges him and he begins talking about how there are four villains in the paper you were given and not only three.

He then begins running his mouth about how a minor mistake such as this would be an embarrassment for a school such as UA. You scoff, muttering something about having a stick up his ass.

After the teacher ended his speech, you along with the other students began piling out of the room and to your designated battle centers. As you enter your specified location, you take out the black leather gloves from your pocket, wearing them. You clenched and unclenched your hands to make sure that it fit you well.

"Hey grandma." An unfamiliar voice catches your attention, unfortunately for you the rude nickname was directed towards you.

"Grandma?" You raise a brow, unsure what he meant by it.

"You white hair reminds me of my grandma's." He snickers, pointing at the white streaks of hair you have beside either sides of your face as a few other students chuckling behind him. He looks plain, very, very boring. "Why don't you give up on this exam, grandma? Your knees may start hurting."

The signal went off and the robots began moving behind you. As you kept a straight face, your hands begin glowing a blinding white light as a black with blue and silver accent claymore appears in your hands. You run to your left, applying your speed quirk as you ran towards the gigantic robots, swinging your sword vertically.

The slash creates the same blinding white light, the robots, the buildings and concrete ground that the light touches all disintegrating into nothing. You speed into the other robots, stealing the targets of other students as you accumulated your points. Once you finish and only a few robots are left, you return to your spot to where the plain-looking boy along with his little friends were still standing at, jaws hanging eyes blown wide.

"You grandma must have been very strong."

"I got in." You say into your phone and you hear your mother squeal in delight from the other end of the line. A smile breaks into your face and you feel your phone vibrate, signaling a new notification. As you pull your phone away to see what it is, your eyes widen in surprise as you read your notification banner.

'Mom' sent you $100.

"Mom what the heck is the money for?" You chuckle. "I'm not there with you but I want you to celebrate getting into UA. So go use the money and spoil yourself."

"Mom you don't have to-"

"Okay, mom mode off. I demand you go and award yourself eith the money I sent you." Your mom's tone switches from soft and caring to cold and demanding, making you chuckle. "That doesn't suit you at all." You laugh, you can practically /hear/ your mom pout at the other line.

"Okay, okay. I'll do as you say. Thank you, mom. I love you."

"I love you more my baby."

The call ends and you change out of your usual sweats and oversized tee. You put on a black spaghetti strap and high-wasted mom jeans. You hoop in a black belt and fold the ankles of your pants to show your white sock inside your checkered vans. You finish the look with medium-sized hoop earrings and a oversized red zip-up jacket which you leave unzipped with one shoulder hanging off.

You step out of your apartment, pocketing your keys and taking a deep breath in. Japan is just so beautiful, the scenery, the buildings, even the weather was perfect. You strut down your apartment building, scrolling through your phone as you searched for cafes nearby. It was a five minute walk of calm and relaxing vibes. You step into the cafe, eyes darting around the adorable cottage-core aesthetic it had going.

"Hey my name is Mio. What can I get for you this lovely afternoon?" The cashier beams brightly, your day becoming better and better with every move you make. "I'll have a strawberry shortcake as well as a strawberr frappe with extra foam, strawberry syrup and strawberries." You beam back at her and she takes your order with a bright smile, tapoing away on the computer's screen.

"Does your life depend on strawberries or something?" A rough and deep voice asks behind you, causing you to turn around. Once you do, your eyes widen at the sight of a young blond with vermilion eyes. He looked around your age.

"I like strawberries. Is it that big of a sin?" You ask, soft smile across your face as you cross your arms together. The guy had such piercing eyes, those red orbs looked like they could trap you in them forever.

"Not what I'm saying, but if you're that much of a strawberry fan, I recommend their strawberry pop tarts." His eyes drop to the display fridge beside you and your eyes follow his, landing on the adorable little tarts with red jam on top of them.

Just as you were about to order them, the cashier speaks up. "Your total is 1,500 yen." She smiles brightly, making you pout. You didn't want to cause more trouble for her seeing as your bill has already been printed by the machine.

You scan their QR code, paying virtually as she hands you your buzzer. "We'll give you a signal whrn your order is ready. You can find a seat and wait there thank you!"

You turn around at the blond who's looking at you expectantly, "I guess I'll have to try your recommendation some other time." You smile at him, walking off to the table catering two chairs. It was seated at the far back of the cafe, away from the many customers the cafe had.

You began scrolling through your social media, liking the posts of your past classmates and chuckling at some memes you saw.

A plate full of the same tarts with red jam is placed on your white table and you didn't have to look to see who it was. "Is this you way of flirting with me, rubies?" You ask, looking up at him with a teasing, smug smile. His face contorts into annoyance, "Hah? Flirting with you?" He scoffs, "Not a chance. And who're you calling rubies?"

"Your eyes remind me of rubies. They're pretty."

The blond's face relaxes and you push the seat across from you, silently telling him to sit down. He does as 'told', huffing as he watches you pick of a tart and bring it over to your lips. You bite on it, eyes widening as the flavor explodes in your mouth. It tastes sweet but not the sickeningly sweet kind, it's soft soft in the inside and lightly crunchy on the outside.

"You look like you just ate food made by gods." He chuckles, "You look dumb."

"But it really does taste so good!" You've never felt this much excitement since you found out you got into UA. And that speaks a lot given that you've only ever felt this kind of feeling with your mom.

"I should have bought the entire stock if I knew you liked it that much." Your heart skipped at his words. What is this feeling? You felt nervous all of a sudden, you can barely contain your smile and somehow, you didn't want to go home yet. This is a very new feeling for you. It's kind of... scary.

"I'm L/n."

Idiot. Stop it.

"L/n Y/n." You extend your hand towards him which he looks at for a few moments before taking. You shake both of your hands with a soft smile, your thoughts going haywire at how soft his palms feel.

"Bakugou. Katsuki Bakugou."

You pull your hand away, finishing the last piece of strawberry pop tart on your plate before your buzzer turns on. You pick it up, standing up. "Thanks for the tarts. See you around, rubies."

"Call me that one more time and I'll blow your face up."

You snicker, smirking. "Whatever you say, rubies."

#bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #mha bakugou #bakugou bios #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou x fem!reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bakugou fluff

57 notes · View notes

mogaimonster · 4 years ago

Photo

>> Vitplushoric <<

Vitplushoric (vi-plush-oric): A gender that relates to living and/or sentient plush toys. May be a kingender, in which one’s gender is influenced by being a living plush toy. May be an aesthetigender, in which one’s gender is influenced by the aesthetics of plush toys. The plush toy(s) may or may not be self-aware.

This is a subset of vitobjectoric!

Etymology: “vit” meaning life in latin + plush + “coric” meaning the core of something

Flag design: Based on the vitobjectoric flag (and by extension, the objectum flag). The larger symbol in the middle is the alchemical symbol for life, and the teddy bear represents any and all plush toys.

***

[Image description: A flag with 5 larger vertical stripes and 2 smaller vertical stripes. The smaller stripes are in between the larger stripes on the left and right hand side of the flag. In order from left to right, the colors are: pastel blue, pastel green, pastel yellow, white, pastel pink, pastel magenta, pastel purple. There is a light red alchemical symbol for life in the center of the flag, and inside the symbol is a simple light brown teddy bear with a heart on its belly. End image description.]

Alternate flags under the cut!

#mogai coining #gender coining #mogai flag design #vitplushoric #vitobjectoric #mogai #mogai pride #pro mogai #objectgender #coining post #coined by me

61 notes · View notes

sassaetcie · 4 years ago

Text

bird of a feather flock together

OKAY SO A FRIEND COMMISSIONNED AS A JOKE THREE YEARS AGO TO WRITE HIM A FIC SHU X READER FOR FUN BECAUSE HE DOESN’T LIKE SHU ANDJKEJEJFJKDJKGKJ I. FINALLY DID IT. I AM DONE

You have been walking for several hours now. One, two, three, perhaps... Let it rip. No, no. This isn't it. Four hours... Five hours, probably. Certainly not "one, two... etc". You took a stroll in order to forget what happened.

-You liar! You're lying! Don't tell us you can see spirits in Beys or whatnot! That's not true and you know it! You're just trying to take space in the spotlight! You ain't Zac or Valt or Shu or big shots! You're just like us! Liar!

If they were several or one voice, it's hard to recall. They would almost make some kind of disgust for Beyblade weedily blossom in your being, whether it be your bones or brain. So you went away. Perhaps they'll think it over. Maybe they'll stop talking to you. You cannot know for sure as for now. You may have gotten lost amongst this huge world, with only a Beyblade you're not sure you cannot trust anymore. The world sure looks bigger. Looming over. A circle of blue, yet not a circle. A kind of Jörmugandr, and yet not an ouroboros either. But you saw something. For sure! Valt Aoi, Shu Kurenai, Free de la Hoya saw it too. Not yours especially. But them. They said they've seen theirs. And you've seen them too. Their descriptions match. So you are not hallucinating. You may have, before. You may someday. But now...?

Where are you? Where were you? That wasn't grass and tiny stadiums anymore. Or at least, you don't see them. Big chunks of concrete. Big vertical chunks of concrete. Chunks of glass, stuck to it. Chunks of tar on the ground. Chunks of paint on it. Chunks of blue high above, perhaps further. Chunks, chunks, chunks? Probably chunks of Beyblade somewhere. No... Not chunks. They're not chunks. They have a spirit, right? You didn't hallucinate, did you? You didn't, for sure. So, they aren't chunks. Perhaps everything is a chunk right now. But it ain't going to last. Soon they won't be chunks anymore. You look at your Beyblade. She shines. "It" doesn't shine. She shines. Yep, for sure, she glitters, she glimmers, she shines, she radiates.

-Oh... Is it possible that... No. You are a Blader, right?

A chunk of voice... Nope. A soft, or maybe a, bit deep, voice. Red eyes. Yes, the one facing you sure has two red eyes you have known for a while. Was he part of the reason you first started Beyblade? Probably not. You didn't like him at first, after all. Kurenai Shu had been arrogant, and somehow condescending at some point. To the point where he lost himself. But he had been better and better during all of these years as well. So this white hair didn't look like a chunk of bone anymore. His black coat sure had gone smaller over the years, especially since the last time he wore it, he seemed much younger. What have you answered, already? He just took your hand. He seemed sad, somehow. White, white skin. Will it become pearly? Jellyfish-like?

-Hey, come on. You are a Blader, but you don't seem like playing Beyblade right now, right? Let us walk a bit, shall we?

It wasn't like being alone in that situation would have been any better, anyway. Even if he was older, he could have been stupid, sure. But he had learned about the Blading Spirit and passion, after all. ... Maybe his scar was redder than ever, and yet perfectly delimited. Or the other way around. Chunks of green. Small pieces of grass, yes. "Blades of grass"...

Ferris wheels. Toy horses. Music.

-Ah, maybe you did not want to hear that much noise, considering you were seeking peace. We'll just be going through. Is it alright with you?

A Blader inviting you to some kind of amusement park then cancelling his plans sure sounded like a hoax. Especially coming from Shu Kurenai. Although that could have been Akaba Aiga, Valt Aoi... who knows whom. You walked along. He walked along. Chunks again, or pure things. The ferris wheel sure was full of people. And there were... lights everywhere. Blue, red, pink, purple, green, orange, yellow, at least. One, two, three... one, two, three. Two x three, perhaps. And three x one, maybe. Furthermore, one x two? It was very likely possible to count all of them. For sure. It would take time, yeah. Not that much with someone... Well, maybe still a while, but still, divided by two at least. Horses, cows, perhaps foxes and mascots, were working on the carrousel.

-Be careful. If you were to collide, you may end up falling and losing your Bey.... She would be sad, wouldn't she?

A sorrel horse. By decaying yet shining paint covered. The glittering color was still on his wood body, no matter how rot tried to grab him. Someone would paint him over, with the exact same hue. And the chestnut horse, or perhaps foal, would live on. Partnership would keep his black, almond eyes, alive. His barely pointy hoofs were tainted by lustruous black. His sorrel mane seemed made of ropes, somehow. He disappeared at the other end of the carrousel's globe.

You... reached the end of the soon-to-rotate-in-time amusement park. The numerous, rainbow-like, lights were in your back, now. For sure, they were. Some of them kept on lighting the way, yours, and Shu's. Probably 5 of them, yes. A red one, a blue one, another red one, a purple one, a green one. Five of them. That you could shake off. That you could count for sure. As long as there was... someone by your side. But these "someone" could as well make mistakes...

-My, my! Would you see that... The Moon Thief!

-Ciel, ciel! Would you see that... Le Blader Justicier!

A smoothy-haired silhouette projected on the wall, from the right, maybe. A spiky-haired silhouette projected on the wall, from the left maybe. Shu didn't move, and you neither. The first one, yes, the first one, for sure, clad in large clothes, breathing darkness onto the wall. The second one, shielded by short, usually tight clothes. Two known voices. The voice of the night, of the almost-silence, of the polite writing. The voice of the day, overflowing, of the short writing. Large, indecisive, rounded gloves of the softness of the clouds. Sharp, thin, fingers facing the sun.

-My mask is my true self, not what I aspire to.

-My mask is what I aspire to be, not myself still.

-Without her, I can't hope to understand you, shiny faker.

-Without her, I can't hope to understand you, nasty Lupin.

-My brother, yet not quite.

-My brother, yet not quite!

The thief moved as a bird on the wall, was a stork. The idol dropped as an owl. They reached out as ravens, walked back as sparrows. Took off their Beyblades. They took each other's hands, and disappeared, jumping or dropping again.

-I thought it would be interesting not to interrupt them. I hope you understand.

You nodded. You sure did understand what the hell these two clowns were doing. Because they probably weren't clowns.

-I see I wasn't wrong about you. Well, then...

Five of his soft, devoid of gloves, fingers clasped around yours. Not the same, not the same, not the same. Hands of bladers, hands of bladers, hands of bladers. He smiled, definitely. He smiled, definitely, to you. Eyes of red, asking you several things, but only two in the end.

-...want to beybattle now? Spriggan will help me to understand you. I want that.

#beyblade burst #beyblade burst fanfiction #shu kurenai #fic x reader #shu x reader

20 notes · View notes

wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years ago

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 67

Who’s my personal favorite chapter in this whole stupid story. You are.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

(Weiss PoV)

Blake and I were on a stakeout. We were the most patient members of team RWBY so we made a certain amount of sense. We were watching over a dance club called The Den from a rooftop nearby. We'd gotten an anonymous tip about Cloud Strife and Neapolitan being in this location and Winter had put us on it.

She had us here while she watched over another location where they'd been spotted. It was long work, sitting out just watching a doorway on a bare grimy rooftop.

We found nothing for hours and hours.

Eventually it bore fruit and a woman with pink and brown hair and an exposed midriff came out of The Den. She was followed by a tall blonde with spiky hair.

He wore dark clothes and a half cape. But his weapon… it was unmistakable. Bronze and white in a harness on his back...

"Blake…" I hissed.

She jumped from the roof after the two of them without a word.

“Stop right there!” Blake demanded uncharacteristically loud. Combat was like that. There was ‘I’m the quiet type’ and then there was ‘I need to fight right now.’

Neapolitan vanished. One moment she was there, the next she was gone, she just shattered like a pane of glass into nothingness. That left the familiar stranger wearing diamond earrings and the tall sword with the long red handle.

I jumped down and landed on a glyph as I did. Then another, bouncing off them as I made my way to ground level.

The man turned and began to glow a faint deep blue. He drew a three-foot-and-change longsword. Blake jumped at him with her sword but he knocked her aside with blinding speed. Their weapons met with a resounding clang . His half cape fluttered and gave him an interesting silhouette as he moved and slammed Blake back with a single wide slash.

By his side jingled a blue and gold lamp on a chain.

She landed like a dancer on her feet with her weapon in one hand.

"Jaune!" Blake gasped from the ground.

Fact one: Cloud Strife was Jaune Arc.

Fact two: I wasn't sure Blake and I could take him.

He was glowing that blue with pale wisps of light surrounding him. It only meant one thing, he was Limit Broken.

"Blake!" I hauled her to her feet and looked down the street at Jaune. "Wait."

"What?"

"He has the relic of knowledge."

Blake's head whipped around to look at Jaune.

"He's..." Blake trailed.

"Jaune Arc is Cloud Strife," I muttered to her.

"Indeed," Jaune said. He was still holding his longsword with the long hilt. "Good to see you, Weiss." His tone was low and smouldering. Had he always sounded like that? Or had I missed his voice? "And Blake," he continued, "it's been a long time. When were you two reunited?"

"Just after you killed Ren and Nora," Blake growled.

"Ah…"

"That's all you have to say about it?! ‘Ah?!’" Blake demanded with heat.

Blake made to move forward but I held her back.

"Weiss we can take him!" She looked back at me.

"Wait! His Limit Break is active. He'll tear you apart. It's a trick! He's not vulnerable!"

Blake looked over, her amber eyes taking in the blue glow reflectively. "So what do we do?"

"I was never able to beat him," I confessed. "But you used to be able to time it out. Wait for the power to evaporate."

Jaune was looking away, giving us a sense of privacy as we talked. He kicked a rock down the street and leaned the sword against his shoulder. He looked comfortable. He even looked handsome with the piercings and his hair done up like that.

Damn him. The absolute son of a bitch.

"So what? We just keep him talking?"

"It's worth a shot. After the power fades he'll have to recharge it." I looked past her and called out. "Jaune, or do you prefer Cloud?"

"Weiss, either is fine." He nodded.

"You have the relic of knowledge."

"I do." He pulled it off the chain at his side and held it out. "I used one of the questions, it still has two left."

"What did you ask the lamp?" I asked.

"I asked it about mother."

"You asked it about your mom?" Blake sounded incredulous.

"Ah, I should explain. I meant Salem." He stepped closer to us. He still burned with the ethereal fire of his semblance. I took a wary step back and he froze . "Are you afraid of me, Weiss?"

"You call Salem mother?" I asked. I ignored his awful question poignantly.

"Only when I slip up." He gave a sigh.

"Salem's your mom? She gave birth to you?" Blake asked.

"For a certain definition of birth. I was born in a lab. A test tube and some of her cells created me."

"So that's why you became her agent," Blake confirmed. She was trying to puzzle it together.

"I didn't know about that until recently. Until after she made me kill my friends." He said. He still looked relaxed with the straight edge of Crocea Mors against his shoulder. His expression turned into a hard line.

"She made you?" I asked.

"Salem has dominion over my mind, she seized control over me and made me kill Ren and Nora."

"So Ozpin was right. You were a sleeper agent," I murmured.

"Of sorts," he agreed. "Of a very certain sort."

"You're buying this?" Blake asked.

"He has the relic," I pointed out.

"It could be a trap."

"The relics are the end goals, Blake. Why would Salem set a trap with them?"

She didn't have a good response to that and growled.

"What happened at Haven, Jaune?" I asked.

"I cornered Leonardo and Salem's Grimm killed him. From there she spoke to me," he grimaced but continued. "She spoke to me and I had to obey her orders. She made me kill Ren and Nora and leave with the relic. Eventually I broke free of her spell." His expression schooled itself back into a thin line again. "I couldn't return with what I'd done so I went to hunt down my father, who she mentioned. A scientist by the name of Merlot."

"And that's where you've been?"

"Yes." He gave me a charming smile. I had to admit he looked good. The sick bastard. I raised my weapon anyways. He lifted his hands in surrender. "I don't want to fight you."

"His semblance isn't disappearing." Blake whispered to me.

"I know," I muttered back. "Will you come with us?" I asked my voice louder.

"If I can remain armed, sure," Jaune agreed. "I refuse to be separated from my weapons."

"No chance," Blake said.

"Hmm, what if I give you the relic." He proffered it out with one hand and sheathed his weapon over his shoulder with the other.

"We have to take the deal." I told Blake. "Nothing is more important than the relic."

I could tell she didn't like it. She still saw Jaune as being like Adam. But if what he told us was true then he was a victim. Salem could control his thoughts. That didn't make him any less dangerous, though. It meant this whole thing could be a trap. I just couldn't see how. Or what Salem would gain by giving up a relic.

"Weiss get down!" Winter came striding over my head on a wave of glyphs and pierced right at Jaune's head with her scimitar.

She must have been listening to our mics the whole time.

Jaune leaned out of the way, grabbed Winter and kicked her twice in the chest in a sort of rolling motion with each leg. The strength of the blows made Winter's eyes widen and it left her in the air above Jaune. The last place you ever wanted to be.

Like lightning Jaune drew the white and bronze broadsword with one hand. He cast the blade upwards slashing her and kept her above him before he jumped and hit Winter in the gut with the long blade.

She tried to land but he hovered beneath her. He was ungodly fast. The only other people I'd met in his category for speed with his semblance active were Harriet and Ruby.

"Winter!" I called out.

He jumped and shattered a glyph my sister tried to stand on and he flicked her with his blade into the ground hard enough to tear the street up. He drifted slowly to the ground from there on a pocket of air.

"Winter don't! He's coming in peacefully!" I called out.

She whipped back to her feet and eyed Jaune. He offered her the long hilt of his nearly seven foot weapon. A calm and disarming smirk was on his face.

"He's not behaving peacefully."

"Neither are you," I pointed out. "Just take his weapon."

"He needs to be put in cuffs. He's a criminal."

"Why? He's got the relic of knowledge, he's not on their side."

Winter's eyes flicked down to his belt where the relic hung.

"Weiss… help me secure him."

"Winter!"

"That's an order!"

She rushed him before I could give her a warning. Jaune backed up hopping out of the way of her slashes before he brought his enormous weapon around. Then he started to meet Winter's slashes with equal speed despite the sheer size of his weapon and her small lithe ones.

Winter sliced high then she thrust middle and then she went for his head again. He blocked them all and at a range such that my sister never really got close to him.

He barked out a deep, part mad laugh.

He slashed forward at my sister forcing her to block the gigantic attack and then he kneed her in the face hard enough to smash her into a brick wall.

Blake rushed him before I could stop her. She tried to backflip over him and bring her ribbon down around him but he just flipped in place and slashed at her.

She disappeared with a clone, it exploded into fire which washed over him. He flinched back and flickered back a step. Blake kept up with him for a moment and vanished again in a clone when he cut at her. He read her and whipped around right in Blake's face and spent Limit on her in a rush.

Thud-thud. He hit her with two horizontal slashes. Dush-dush. He hit her with two diagonal cuts from opposite directions that left her spiraling in place. Thud-dush. He bit into her aura with a horizontal then a diagonal slash. Thud-thud. He swept vertically upwards then did a massive overhead strike downwards on her trapped form.

The expenditure turned almost violet by the end of the terrifying eight cut attack that intercepted her in mid-air.

Blake bounced off the ground and tried to rise but her aura crackled purple and she fell back to her knees. Just like that she was out of the fight.

Then Jaune just stood there flexing in the middle of the street.

I rushed him and he met me. He pressed down on me with his giant weapon. He held it diagonally downwards with the tip pointed at the ground and the great hilt up high, held in one hand. I could barely leverage Myrtenaster to keep him off of me. Compared to the broadsword Myrtenaster looked like a twig. Sparks flew as his weapon sang with energy.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered, his voice still smouldered. "Surrender to me."

I backed off a step and he let me. He pointed his weapon at me with one hand, the other hung loosely by his side.

My sister pulled herself free and her aura washed over her in a wave of white.

"Winter stop it! You can't beat him!"

She ignored me and thrust her saber into the ground. A Beowulf in all white and blue appeared and rushed Jaune. He hovered straight towards it and cut through it with two horizontal strikes. He was flying even without his Limit Breaker now?

Just how strong had he become?

My sister chased her summon with incredible speed but she couldn't close the gap on him. His blade swiped through the air as he met her strikes with confidence. It seemed to hum with barely constrained power.

He jumped and as he fell he forced the enormous weapon upwards by pushing up with one hand on the middle of the blade and the other on the too long handle. It caught my sister in the chest. Then he twirled through the air and did a vertical low to high strike which flung her back. He flickered forward and thrust his blade straight down like he was impaling her with a brutal spike.

He landed neatly and flexed in a position I knew meant he was charging his semblance.

He Cross Slashed her when she next tried to approach him. He just caught her with wide terrific swings of his sword. He twirled and the last blow flung her back with her aura swirling around her. Deep chunks had been taken out of it. There was a rush of air and his semblance was charged again. He was taking her apart. His semblance activated on the final attack. He was outputting enough damage that his comeback mechanic was just an ‘I win’ feature.

My sister tried to rise to her feet but he was on her in a blur that shoved her back to the ground. He leveraged his mighty weapon down on her and it was all she could do to maintain her kneeling position.

She popped the hidden blade out of her scimitar and tried to catch it with her left. Instead Jaune's hand blurred in between their guards, lightning fast, and caught the weapon. He stepped in and dragged her to her feet with the hidden stiletto forced against her neck.

Both of her hands came up to relieve the pressure against her throat as he held her above the ground. She kicked him in the chest hard but it was to no avail. He didn't even flinch at the blow. He wrestled her into the air, holding her by the blade against her throat and against his own titanic weapon.

"Jaune wait! You said you wanted to come in. Now's the time to prove it. Put her down," I begged him. I was all but certain I couldn't take him. He'd turned Blake aside easily and he'd hammered my sister without any trial.

He looked at me. Through swirls of light the same hue as his eyes. Then he tossed Winter to the side. Both of her weapons clattered to the asphalt.

Winter choked and tried to regain her breath.

Jaune stabbed his sword into the ground and held out his hands to be cuffed. "It's alright. I'll go in."

"Without your weapon?" Blake asked. She'd gotten back to her feet and she had her gun pointed at his head. Jaune didn't look intimidated by it in the slightest.

Jaune noticeably cringed at the thought of being weaponless but he said, "even so."

Winter slapped a pair of handcuffs on him and he visibly relaxed and let the blue aura around him fade. I wouldn't have been surprised if he could tear the handcuffs apart with an expenditure of his semblance. Winter ripped the relic of knowledge from his belt and secured it to her own side.

"Sorry Jaune," I said. I meant it, too.

"It'll be fine. I think I have friends on the inside."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I was there when Jaune was searched. He was armed with dust crystals (red, yellow and purple), a pipe, a grinder, a scroll, and a little black book. They were all placed in a grey bin and put before the General who tried to stare Jaune down.

Jaune didn't look impressed.

The General looked through Jaune's things before he asked him any questions.

"I'm told you came in of your volition."

"That's right."

"Why now?"

"Maybe I need serious help? Maybe I'm losing my mind?"

"Can you tell me what happened at Haven Mr. Arc? Or do you prefer Strife?"

"You know me?" Jaune sounded surprised. "Either is fine. Mother, that is Salem, gave me orders through her Grimm, and I had to obey them. I killed Ren and Nora. She ordered me to bring her the relic but I soon broke her command over my mind."

"She can control your thoughts? Why?"

"I was created from her cells by Merlot, do you know of him?"

"I do," Ozpin murmured off to Ironwood's side. "He conducted experiments on the Grimm."

"That's right. After Haven I went and found the lab where he made me. That little black book is his notes on it. On me."

"And the relic of knowledge?" Ozpin asked.

"I kept it safe but didn't bring it to her."

"He was going to offer it to us," I cut in.

"Is this true, Ms. Belladonna?" Ozpin asked.

"It is. He didn't want to fight us. He wanted to be able to keep his weapon."

"Absolutely not." Ironwood leaned back. "By his own admission he's in league with the enemy."

"Really James? By my estimation he's a victim in all this. Any of Salem's other agents would have brought her the relic. Mr. Arc how are you feeling?"

"I'm alright at the moment. I hear her voice sometimes. It's a whisper. And ever since that day I see shadows and I have the feeling of bugs crawling around my skin."

"You need therapy," Ozpin said.

"There isn't a shrink qualified. There's a goddess in my head. That's what the marijuana is for." Jaune nodded at the pipe and grinder. I picked it up and sniffed it. I detected the earthly odor of marijuana coming off of it. "In fact I could really use a hit right about now," he said.

"Really Jaune? Marijuana?" I asked.

"It helps with my mother's voice. Salem's voice. I meant Salem. I hear her in my dreams."

"Well Mr. Arc, having the relic speaks well for you. I also take it you were the one who killed Tyrian. We found his body. His wounds may have been consistent with your weapon."

"Thank you. And yes I did." There was a note of pride in his voice. "I killed the motherfucker."

"And your story with Merlot is very concerning. Well what do you think James? The final say of what happens to him is in your hands."

Ironwood was quiet for a long time, he didn't like it. Jaune was dangerous. He was a liability. Further still he was a criminal. I held my breath.

"I'm confiscating your weapon. I'm keeping you imprisoned until such a time that you can see a psychiatrist and we can start you on some medication. It's in your best interest that you not resist. You should comply completely. I'm putting you down for PTSD with major psychotic features."

"Will I be able to see my friends?"

Ironwood nodded. "I'd also like a blood sample for my own labs."

"For Salem's genes. I understand. I'll play ball." Jaune agreed. "Think we can get these handcuffs off and that book back? It's a touch personal. It's literally all I have of my origins."

Ironwood nodded again and gestured to Winter. She released him and Jaune rubbed his wrists. Jaune paced forward and snatched up his black book and shoved it in a deep pocket. Other than that he tried nothing and I lunged forward and embraced him. I could have kissed him in that moment.

"It'll be okay Jaune," I whispered.

"We'll see," he murmured.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I came to Ruby with the news in our room. "Ruby, we found Jaune!" She deserved to hear it from me and I wanted to be the one to share it with her. Lest she hear it from another source and get the facts wrong. I may have been in a bit of a rush to reach our Atlas Academy room with Blake in tow.

"What? Where?"

"Blake and I were on stakeout and he turned up. They're putting him in a psychiatric hospital. He's… he's pretty messed up."

"So is he… was he a traitor?"

"Kind of. According to him Salem made him do it. She was able to control his mind. She made him kill Ren and Nora."

Ruby looked like she had no idea how to feel. "Will we be able to see him?"

"General Ironwood said so but I don't know what it'll look like." I wasn't sure what the protocols were in place to see someone who was sick like Jaune was. He was also a criminal. So there was that to consider.

"Weiss this is the best news!" She hugged me and I held her back. "My Jaune is safe!" She kissed my cheek and I smiled. I knew that his whereabouts had been eating her up inside.

"Come on, Weiss," Blake said. "He outright told us Salem could control his mind. You think she's not doing it right now? Even if we believe him, which I'm not sure we should, it's still a pretty bleak scenario."

"He had the relic. And they said they'd find him medication," I argued.

"For mind control?" Blake asked. "Weiss please be reasonable. Don't get her hopes up. This isn't the kind of thing that gets better. This is permanent. Whatever's wrong with him is for keeps. And that's if we're taking him at his word."

"Medication?" Ruby wondered.

"He explained it like he had a bunch of psychotic phenomena from what Salem did to him. It sounded a lot like extreme PTSD." I explained to Ruby. "And why shouldn't I have hope for him. He made it this far without giving in."

Blake just shook her head.

"Wait hold on, take it from the top," Yang said. "Salem has control over his mind? Why? How?"

"He says he was created in a petri dish from her cells, someone named Merlot made him in a laboratory," Blake said. "That's why he's doomed. And that's if we believe him."

"I thought you of all people would judge someone by how they act, not where they came from," I snapped at Blake.

She snarled at me. "He killed Ren and Nora, that's how he acted. Am I the only one who is forgetting that? He confessed to their murder. Right in front of the two of us."

"Alright, that's enough you two," Yang shouted. "If you can't be civil, shut up! Now, if you can, go on. How was he, though?"

"He seemed sane enough." I shrugged. "He was level headed the entire time we were taking him into custody. He even surrendered himself."

"'Sane enough,' would you listen to how you sound?"

"Blake!" Yang shouted.

"Yang, Jaune is not okay. And he's much more powerful than any of you really let on. He basically one-shot my aura to zero and he was talking about hearing her voice all the time. He kept calling Salem ‘mother.’ He's a time bomb."

"But Jaune's family isn't like that. He talked about it a little," Ruby muttered. "Does he still have sisters or was that not real?" It was a good question. Jaune had a history of what he said at Beacon and to Ruby. What if it was accurate. Could all of that have been fake pressure from Salem?

"None of us know. He didn't talk about it," Blake answered.

"If he does then what does that mean?" Ruby asked. She shifted uncomfortably. "More Salem clones? Is that even the right word?"

"Jaune can't be a clone of her. He's a guy," Yang said.

I nodded. "Something else is going on. He had a little black book filled with Merlot's notes on his creation. Maybe Jaune knows more."

"And he was with Neapolitan. Cloud Strife is working with her. She nearly killed Yang!"

"He was what?" Yang asked. "Why?"

"We didn't get the chance to have an in depth chat with him. But he had the relic. He turned himself in to get help."

"All of this is good news," Ruby agreed. "Well not all of it, but a bit."

"You two would say that!" Blake accused. "You can't see what he is because the two of you are in love with him!" I glared at her. I would never bring up how her and Yang felt like it was an insult. I didn't deny it, though, it wouldn't do me any good. Instead I listened to her make her point. "I can't believe this! He's like a monster. He threw me and Weiss's older sister around like it was nothing. Did you not see him fling her? Did you watch him choking her out? Did you see him floating there? He could have destroyed her. He's unbelievably powerful and from what you guys tell me his power is about getting stronger. And no one knows what will set him off," Blake finished.

"So what should we do, Blake? Kill him?" I asked. I dropped the hammer on her. It seemed to be the end goal of what she was suggesting. I'd taken her insult on the nose and come out the other side clean. So what if I liked him. It didn't change the facts about it. Jaune was hurting.

Silence reigned. Blake looked away from me, her ears down.

"What if he is innocent? What if he is a victim? What then?" I demanded. I needed to know what she was intending. I was sure it was also on the General and Ozpin's mind.

"No one wants to kill Jaune, right?" Ruby asked. She sounded nervous.

"I swear the General thought about it. He wasn't really sure what to do. Ozpin wasn't either," I answered fast. Ruby needed to know the details. She deserved to know. Of everyone she was closest to Jaune.

"We can't let them do that," Ruby said, she sounded determined.

"What if it's the right call?" Yang asked. "What if Salem is in control."

"Then he wouldn't have brought us the relic. He would have brought it to her." I responded. "He also took responsibility for Tyrian."

"I suppose…" Yang trailed. She looked deep in thought. I wondered if I'd be able to convince her onto our side.

"Yang?" Ruby wondered.

"What? I have no idea what to think, but Blake is right. The two of you aren't exactly unbiased. None of you have gone toe to toe with him like I have, except maybe Weiss a little but he was winning those fairly confidently. He hits harder than our uncle does. Maybe he was hitting harder than I did, back then. Maybe I won by a nose hair and it was because just maybe he let it happen. And he was only getting stronger. According to him he killed Tyrian who was a menace and did you see him fight Cinder? He could have won that fight and she's a fucking maiden."

She was even two maidens now. As far as Cinder was concerned things weren't looking good.

"Salem and Ozpin have magic, that's where the maidens came from. Do you think he's got magic, too?" Ruby asked. "Do you think maybe that's why he's so strong?"

"Maybe. Probably." Yang answered. "He's really, really dangerous. And Blake's right we have no idea what will set him off."

"Thank you," Blake said.

"But," Yang drew out. "We can't kill an innocent man. He had the relic that means he can at least resist Salem, right? It's not a free win for her?"

"He didn't say how he broke her spell. Just that he did." I returned. "He's being evaluated by a psychiatrist as we speak."

"He's mad. Did you listen to his symptoms? Salem is driving him mad," Blake said. "He's not even safe in his dreams."

Blake had a point. Salem was driving him crazy. It sounded very unpleasant, what all he was going through. But he'd made it this far so I still had hope for him yet. He was able to resist her. He was strong enough to overcome whatever Salem was doing to him, then. I had to believe that. I wanted to believe that. Was it so wrong to believe that?

"Then we'll just have to keep him safe in his real life, right?" Ruby asked. No one truly had an answer for her.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

7 notes · View notes

utterlyinevitable · 4 years ago

Text

Carnival

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2.5k Warning: fluff and a few curse words (and PINING!) Summary: There’s a carnival down by the bay and Becca ditches her friends to spend her special day with Ethan. This takes place during OHSY.

A/N: As always thanks to @aylamwrites for pre-reading. Also sorry this has taken so long, anon! Hope you’re happy with it 😬

________________________________________

It was a warm summer day and the gang of residents finally had a Sunday off together in what felt like months. Elijah, Jackie, Sienna, Becca, Bryce and Kyra were all sprawled around the living room of the former four’s apartment, their skin itching with heat.

“I’m going to die if we don’t get the A.C. fixed,“ Becca groaned from the wooden floor.

“I called Farley,” Sienna noted from the corner of the couch. “He said someone’s coming Monday morning.“

Bryce whined, “But it’s 90 degrees today!” He was parallel to Becca, cuddling his discarded shirt as a pillow.

“Don’t you have your own place?“ Jackie retorted.

Bryce reached over to pat Becca’s stomach and responded, “I’d choose sweating my balls off with my best pal over me-time any day.“

Jackie squinted her eyes, still not too sure of the dynamic between The B’s.

Elijah was scrolling through Pictagram when he piped in, “Guys, did you know there’s a carnival in Charlestown?”

The friends responded with mixed grumbles of “no”, “really?”, and one “aren’t we too old for rides?”.

“Says there’s a beer garden, and it’s by the water,” he added in hopes of coaxing his friends into a little adventure.

It was a unanimous decision for the residents to leave the uncomfortable heat of the apartment and head to the park. The carnival was down by the bay and in support of the Boston Historical Society. The group circled the grounds twice, taking time to play one of those water racing games and sample all that the best food trucks Boston have to offer.

The tap stall was by far their favorite. The gray truck was home to six different beers and even had a game bolted to the passenger side. If you managed to get all 3 rings on the vertically hanging and impossibly tiny peg, you got a free pint and a commemorative mug. Bryce managed to win free pints for himself, Becca and Kyra - although Kyra used the cancer card when the last ring spun along the peg tantalizingly slowly before falling off the side. Bryce shot her a disapproving look as Kyra accepted the free drink. The three winners stood by while Jackie fought with the worker about how this game was completely rigged, so desperately wanting a win and free beer.

Filling up her second mug as she waited, Becca snapped a commemorative photo of her day drunk state with Bryce’s megawatt smile and wink photobombing in the background. Cheekily, she texted it to Ethan. They were friends after all. The two hadn’t crossed any intimate lines since he returned from the Amazon, though they could be caught holding hands time and time again.

Before she could respond back she was being dragged away.

“Come on, Becks!”

Bryce led them to the photobooth where they all took a string of silly pictures. It was fun to immortalize this day, but Bryce had an ulterior motive.

“Happy Birthday, Becks,” he whispered in her ear as the six of them posed with various props.

She looked over at the bright eyed and absolutely perfect man next to her, “How did you -?”

Becca didn’t like birthdays and she certainly didn’t tell people when hers was. The only people who knew the significance of today were her mother, aunt, and HR representative at Edenbrook.

All he offered was a wiggle of his manicured brows and “I have my ways of persuasion.”

“Hospital database?” she matched.

Bryce chuckled and slung an arm over his best friend’s shoulders, “I’ll never tell.”

As the sweltering afternoon set in, the group settled into the grass of the secluded beer garden and enjoyed the band playing some classic rock cover songs. She was leaning into Bryce when Becca noticed a familiar gray sweater passing by.

Her eyes furrowed thinking she was hallucinating. Who in their right mind wears a cardigan in this heat!? After blinking a few times she was certain he wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

“Be right back,” she hopped up so quickly she nudged Bryce in the ribs. “Sorry,” she mouthed as she ran after the tall and notably refined figure she’s come to admire.

“Hey!” she called from six feet away, “Dr. Grumpy!”

Ethan turned towards the recognizable sing-song voice and let her catch up to him.

Becca had the biggest smile plastered onto her sun kissed cheeks when she said, “You came.”

“It’d be a shame not to support such a worthwhile cause,” he shrugged as he crossed his arms, trying hard not to let her smile infect him. “Also there’s a gourmet mac and cheese truck I’ve heard is a must-try.”

In her current tipsy state she didn’t catch most of his words but knew she texted him about Mac Attack’s presence as a follow up to their conversation about comfort food from last week.

With a deviously elated smile, Becca slung her arm through his and tugged, “Lets go.”

Ethan was stunned by her forwardness in such a public place, however, for some reason he didn’t care.

“Where to?” he asked with a faint smirk as he shuffled along with her.

“I’ve been thinking about fried Oreo’s all day,” Becca all but moaned, licking her lips.

He quipped, “I’d like some sustenance to combat the imminent heart attack.”

“Mac Attack it is!” she said in complete elation before skipping along, dragging Ethan alongside her.

They stood fourth in line at the popular bright yellow and red food truck. The clear blue sky started to turn shades of wandering pink and purple as the sun began to set. Becca was staring up at the sky as Ethan was studying the limited menu with distaste.

“That looks awful,” Ethan groaned, pointing at the bucket of everything-on-top gooey mac-and-cheese one of the patrons was walking away with.

“Well if you didn’t want to eat greasy comfort food, why’d you come?”

Ethan dismissed her comment, sheepishly caving, “Fine, let’s share.” The beam radiating off her freckled cheeks was all the reassurance he needed. “You like truffles?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’. “I like crispy onions and bacon.”

Their eyes met and Ethan let the slightest of smiles find home on his lips.

Ethan paid for the meal and the two carried the carton over to an empty wooden picnic bench. He held the cheesy heaven in his large palm stably for them to pick at with their two-pronged forks.

“I concede,” Ethan began after the second forkful, “This is rather tasty.”

“Told you!” Becca lit up. “And you should wash it down with…” she patted her body and looked around their seating area for her mug. “Crap, I left it with Bryce.” Her doe brown eyes went wide as realization washed over her. “Shit, how long have I been gone for?” she said more to herself.

Becca stood up, grabbing her phone from her jean short pocket and texted the group chat a single emoji.

“All good.” She put the phone back in its place and bent down to shove the last big forkful of gooey goodness into her mouth. “Whatcha wanna do now?” Ethan gazed at her as she not-so-eloquently spoke with a mouthful. “Riiiides?”

“I don’t do rides.”

“Heh,” she tried and wonderfully failed to hide her smirk at the naughty remark she could have made. One and a half more beers and she would have made it.

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Your options are: ferris wheel, sizzler, or photobooth and beer garden,” she listed off a few things she wouldn’t mind doing. “Fair warning, my friends are camped out in the beer garden.”

He sighed, “Ferris wheel.”

“So romantic!” she winked.

“I regret this already.”

The two chucked the rubbish in the nearest garbage pail and made their way to the side of the park with the rides. They walked side by side, their hands brushing against the other’s every now and again. In the bubble of waning alcohol and heat of this surprising summer day her pinky extended to caress his before capturing it as her own.

Not far from the Ferris wheel entrance, they noticed Baz, Zaid and Ines in conversation by the ticket booth. With a timid look at one another Ethan took her whole hand in his and promptly changed course;

“Photobooth.”

She can’t say she minded.

Becca tugged back on his hand stopping him in his tracks. Ethan whipped around, eyes pleading. He did not want to be caught, lest by Baz.

“Beer first. You gotta catch up,” she enlightened. “I don’t want four photos of Dr. Grouch. I want Ethan.”

Lucky enough they were at the east entrance while her friends were still camped out by the west. Even more in Ethan’s favor, one of the stalls was a local whiskey distillery.

“Someone knew you were coming,” Becca joked as she pointed to the wooden stall.

After some bargaining, the doctors were graciously allowed to down two flights of samples in exchange for Ethan placing a decent-sized delivery order.

“Last one.” He inspected the liquid. “I will not be offended if you can’t stomach it. Though I will judge you.” He lifted the dixie cup up and she saluted hers as well.

The thick brown solvent smelled like sweet gasoline and tingled against her tongue. Becca pursed her lips in an attempt to keep an indifferent face. She couldn’t do it. Her mouth begged for air and a chaser. “It burns,” she choked.

Everything about Becca was endearing. Her cheeks were flushed and her freckles were more prominent than he had ever seen, even in the dusk and illuminated by harsh floodlights. A brisk night breeze washed over them sending a shiver up her spine. Without a second thought, Ethan shrugged out of his cardigan, holding it open for her.

Becca closed the gap between them, turning her back and slipping her arms into the baggy sleeves of the soft fabric. The closeness and wafts of his cologne were another type of intoxicating. She fell into it. Her back pressed into Ethan’s chest, she tilted to see the ebullient blue eyes gazing down at her. His supple lips parted. The pleasant whiskey-laced breaths enticing her.

Their locked eyes were glazed, a telling signal that it was about time to let loose.

Ethan licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Where’s this godforsaken photobooth?”

With the kindest of smiles she broke the trance, pulling his cardigan tightly around her and moving onto the next activity.

They moseyed on over to the photobooth, coming full circle on her special day out.

Being just over 6’4”, Ethan was too tall and the photographer signaled him to sit on the stool. Becca gazed at the box of props in consideration, deciding to go au naturale. She already had the silly photos from earlier, anyway. Looking at Ethan sitting there impatiently Becca bit her lip, deciding on an audacious move.

She sauntered over, fitting herself perfectly in the space between his legs. She perched herself on his left thigh and draped her arm over the back of his shoulders, feeling every tense muscle along his upper back. Ethan reflexively closed his legs tight to give her better balance and wrapped his left arm securely around her waist. The much too big cardigan slipped, exposing her bare shoulders. Their eyes locked. His free hand flew to the exposed skin of her leg as it lifted to lay across his lap on its own volition. The corners of her lips perked before she turned her head to the camera, letting the photographer know they were more or less ready.

They both gave their best candid smile.

Click.

Becca was so close. Ethan was drawn to the sweet scent of vanilla and gardenias on her neck. His eyes hooded as he relished her, and his left hand grabbed a wanton fistful of sweater.

Click.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him inching closer, and tilted her head towards him. Their noses brushed.

“It’s my birthday,” she whispered, their lips mere centimeters apart.

“Is it?” he murmured.

Click.

She nodded sheepishly, her half-lidded eyes never leaving his.

His wide eyes never looked more crystal clear.

A signature smirk took place as he hinted, “Then I supposed ‘Happy Birthday’ is in order.”

His heated breath was sweet with the last notes of whiskey and lingering of mint. It surrounded her, pulling her closer to him. His shallow breaths picked up as her lungs stopped working. It was as if he was breathing for her, giving her life in his simplistic existence. A fleeting pound against her side gave her a push.

She kissed him. For the first time in months they became one.

Their lips overlapped, capturing his plump bottom lip between her own. His shoulders rounded under her touch. Neither dared to deepen the moment. Her tender kiss became bruising as he gripped her tighter, closer - as close as their flush bodies could become.

Click.

Ethan pulled away, “Reb-”

She pressed her index finger to his lips. “Shh, that’s my present,” she sighed with her forehead against his.

They sat there longer than acceptable, hearts racing and eyes conveying all they wish they had the courage to say.

The loud grumble from the photographer brought them back into reality.

Becca waited a few steps away from the booth as Ethan apologized and paid for the photographs. He bought two copies; folding one delicately in his wallet before walking over and handing the other to her.

Becca stared at the first photo on the strip, her thumb hovering over their faces. “I can’t believe you’re smiling,” she contentedly muttered. Her eyes trailed down to the last. Looking up at Ethan she told him in earnest, “Best present ever.”

Ethan’s hand flew to rub the back of his neck as he averted his gaze down to the dewy grass. “I - I knew it’s your birthday, Rookie.”

She raised a brow, “Came down to celebrate with me?”

“Something like that.”

Becca found the hidden smile in his features instantly. She went to take a step closer to him, daring for their lips to meet once more.

But the universe had other plans.

The loud bellowing voice stopped her motions, “Becks!”

“Becca!” another rang.

“Over here!” Bryce shouted once more from a fried food stand.

They both let out a breath of air.

Becca bit her lip as she looked from Ethan to Bryce and back to Ethan. “I… should go.”

Deep brown met clouded blue, both filled with restrained sorrow.

“Don’t get into any trouble.”

“No promises.” She winked as she slipped out of his sweater. He accepted the fabric, now envious of how it was able to hold her all evening long. A lightbulb went off in Ethan’s mind as she started to turn away.

“Oh.. right,” Ethan called her back to attention. She spun around, hopeful. “Here.” He handed her an ivory envelope from his back pocket with her name written out in his fluid script.

She held the card in the same hand as the photos, looking down at it longingly. “Thank you.” Becca brought the weighted paper up to linger over her heart as she took one more look up at his sapphire blue eyes glistening along with the stars.

Ethan gave a single nod, “See you tomorrow, Rookie.”

________________________________________

Taglist: @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @aylamreads @binny1985 @ramseysno1rookie @interobanginyourmom @queencarb @perriewinklenerdie @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @choicesficwriterscreations @heauxplesslydevoted @schnitzelbutterfingers @purpledragonturtles @ramseyandrys @ermidc @mrsdrakewalkerblog @doilooklikeiknow @overwhelminglyaquarius @drethanramslay @edgiestwinter @rookieoh @lucy-268 @mvalentine @lilyvalentine @starrystarrytrouble @angela8756 @pitchblackstars @custaroonie @ezekielbhandarivalleros @sanchita012 @thegreentwin @openheart @tsrookie @adrex04 @togetherwearerapture

#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ohsy #choices fanfic #choices oph2 #oph series #oph2 #choices oh #bryce lahela #oph #oph ff #ff

135 notes · View notes

illshowyourhurricanes · 5 years ago

Text

Back to the Beginning

Who wants a little peek into the life of our favorite musician to brighten their Monday? Look no further! I hope y’all enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading!

Image prompt 6: Ryan Brenner x reader (requested by @thisisparadisemylove)

Rating: PG due to absolute and adorable fluff.

Word count: 1946

Tag list: @dylanobrusso @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @ms-delos @lexxierave @madamrogers @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @bicevans @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @ladyofnaps @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes @crushed-pink-petals-writes

Follower event tag list: @luminex3 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @witchygagirl @breanime

If you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list, please just send me an ask!

This is related to (later down the line) A Familiar Face, which can be found in my masterlist.

The air in the city was dense and heavy. Before you could take anything in, to appreciate your time there, you had to train your lungs to breathe in the atmosphere; it was imperative to get acclimated to the moisture that hung invisibly around you. It was so thick, the humidity was almost strangling.

But when you hit that point where you could breathe again, to inhale that air with ease, the sensations surrounding you were breathtaking.

The uneven, crumbling brick paving the sidewalks were littered with people: tourists with strands of colorful beads hanging from their necks, carrying styrofoam cups; older couples holding hands while taking leisurely strolls; giggling teenagers ducking into shops with signs in the windows boasting shrunken heads and Voodoo dolls. The air carried with it succulent smells from various restaurants, and dance troupes occupied the middle of narrow streets to entertain. People spray-painted in metallic tones from head to toe stood frozen like statues, so still it was as if they weren’t breathing. Depending which street you were on, the energy around you would flip between an electric buzz or a warm leisure-- the kind that was the reason behind the city being coined The Big Easy.

But one constant in New Orleans, whether in the French Quarter, down Magazine Street, or lost just beyond the corner of Decatur and St. Peters’ expanse of the French Market—crowded with vendors selling silver jewelry or art, fresh vegetables and homemade soaps offered in booths at the farmers’ market further down the street, or finding hidden treasures buried deep at the flea market adjacent to the famous Cafe du Monde— was the music.

Street performers playing various flavors of music occupied almost every street corner in the New Orleans area. But Royal Street— Ryan had told you it was pronounced roy-AL, like a duo of two male names sewn together— that was where the real music was, the music with heart and soul and life, no matter the sweltering heat and thick, suffocating humidity. Thirteen blocks through the French Quarter and several leading down toward Frenchman Street was the city’s epicenter of live music. It was where Ryan wanted to take you.

“There’re all types of musicians down here, Y/N,” Ryan said, excitement apparent. Soft-spoken by default unless he was singing, full-bodied and soul on fire, Ryan’s smooth, soft drawl was a pleasure to hear, even if you had to strain to hear sometimes. But the enthusiasm of what he was set to explore with you— to share with you— added volume to his voice, thickened his drawl just a touch, and shifted his intonation to the point that his words sounded more like song than speak. “Jazz is the front-runner but you name it, and you’re goin’ to hear it. I reckon there ain’t a place like it anywhere else in the world.”

Ryan tore his eyes from a two-story brick building, balconies adored by wrought-iron and punctuated with lush hanging plants. You’d read that most of the businesses in this part of the city hailed in structures that were built centuries ago. You smiled as your attention turned to Ryan’s face, lit up with a wide, Cheshire-like grin. His happiness was your happiness, and when he gifted you with that big, toothy, genuine smile,, you felt like a Mega Millions winner. You knew you’d hit the jackpot with this man.

He’d ditched his pack in the bed and breakfast you’d booked days before, despite his protests.

”This was my idea, Y/N. “

“But I wanted to come.”

Slowly nodding his head in agreement, Ryan gently pointed out, “I asked you to join me—“

“And I accepted.”

He eyed you with his eyebrows quirked, and you continued. “You let me come with you, and you let me live life your way for a few days. It’s been exhilarating and uncertain and I feel more alive than I have in a long time.” Your eyes were full of sincerity, and Ryan took a few steps toward you, only stopping as stood right in front of you. He reached to tuck your hair behind your ear. “So let me find us a warm bed to sleep in and cold air conditioning to lay under.”

Finally, he conceded. “If that’s what you want, Y/N, you know you got it. But I gotta tell you, it’s not a usual part of my way of livin’.”

You bit your bottom lip thoughtfully and narrowed your eyes playfully. “Maybe it’s your way of livin’ with me.”

He’d left his pack, but still carried his guitar case. His tattooed fingers were laced with yours as the two of you walked; you had a destination: the flea market just a few blocks away. But first, Ryan wanted to take a slight detour.

“I really want to experience the music. Appreciate it. Take our time, if that’s alright.”

You’d nodded immediately, agreeing with him. You wanted the same thing, wanted to be there with Ryan and join him in his elation and opinions and feel a bit of that love he felt for music.

“And I know you want to go to the flea market—“

“I need to go to the flea market.” You interjected, and he laughed. You shrugged. and he shook his head

“You’re somethin’ else.” The slight smell of coffee wafted through the air, and as the smell became stronger, it took on an almost sweet scent. Applause broke out from somewhere ahead of you, momentarily drowning out an increasingly loud dissonance of chatter.

“You know, I think you’ve told me that before. Once or twice.” Before Ryan could answer, you found yourselves standing just outside the open-air, renowned Cafe du Monde. The scent, the chatter, and the perfect, faraway backdrop of a nearby trumpeter’s solo version of When the Saints Go Marching In was classic New Orleans. You felt a sense of nostalgia wash over you, and you knew at that exact moment that this city, so full of culture and history, art and Cajun food, voodoo and ghost tours, jazz and zydeco and blues and swing and swamp pop— this city meant something to you, and it was your first time visiting.

Ryan gently led you to an occupied table, smack in the middle of the cafe. He pulled out your chair for you with a boyish smile before sitting in the chair across the small table, guitar case close by his side. He leaned forward on his elbows so you could hear over the noise.

“The menu’s not your traditional menu,” Ryan warned you. His eyes danced from across the table, and he added, “Not that New Orleans skimps on tradition, but they do it their own way. ‘S their style.”

You found yourself leaning in as well, caught you in the cadence of Ryan’s voice as well as his words. Ryan wasn’t a huge talker, he didn’t need to be, but when he got on a roll about music or traveling or something that he was passionate about, he spoke up more than usual and you loved those moments. This was one of them.

“ ‘Bout a half-dozen choices to choose from. It’s slim pickin’s, but you can’t go wrong with what they’re offerin’.”” Ryan had been to New Orleans many times; there was just no other place like it. He held up his left hand, calloused fingertips and vertical lines inked between mid and lower knuckles of each finger. “You’ve got coffee—cafe au lait. Fresh-squeezed orange juice, milk…”

You had started to shake your head as Ryan went on. He stopped before he rattled off a variety of sodas and coffee over ice; he knew what you were saying without words, and had known as much before he spoke. The two of you shared a smile, intimate with understanding. Opening your mouth to share a sentiment, you were stalled as a waitress appeared tableside, vibrant purple hair pulled back and piled atop her head. She was around your age and looked frazzled. You smiled at her. Many days at the diner had you in the same state at some point.

“A cafe au lait and order of beignets, please,” Ryan said politely, inclining his chin to order while looking at the server, not just rattling off what he wanted. He was always attentive, and actually talking to someone rather than at them was something you valued at work. Ryan just did so naturally without a second thought. “Same for my girl here.” He looked at you adoringly with an expression asking for confirmation.

“You got it,” you said, meeting Ryan’s eyes for a beat of time, then looking to the waitress and nodding appreciatively. “Thank you.”

In his typical fashion, Ryan followed immediately, offering the woman a small smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

When she turned to walk away and Ryan’s attention was yours again, he immediately noticed the way the corners of your lips turned upward. He looked at you as you appreciated his features from across the table.

“I’ll wait,” he teased gently. Leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretched out as much as possible beneath the table without invading your space, you nudged his knee with your own.

“Wait for what?” It was a rhetorical question; it was all in your expression, the way you sometimes got as quiet as Ryan himself and just looked at him like he hung the moon. Ryan had called you his girl, and you supposed it was true, but to hear him say it was another thing entirely. He had you reeling. It took you a moment to get back on track. “I was just thinking about your thank you ma’am. How it sounded familiar, and how someone else is bringing us coffee instead of me bringing it to you… which, in hindsight, is why we’re here. Together. It’s all come full circle in a sense.”

It seemed like a lifetime ago. As you and Ryan enjoyed your beignets, you relished in little memories, and that was what made your relationship so special. Ryan had taught you just how important simplicity was. He laughed as you balked, tasting your cafe au lait without adding sugar first, forgetting there was chicory in the drink. You stood from your chair to brush powdered sugar from a beignet out of the scruff on his chin. He taught you the difference between zydeco and swamp pop, and insisted on paying for your coffee and beignets.

“There you go again, Ryan Brenner. Fighting me over sweets and tips, bringing it right back to the beginning. You’d finally made it to the flea market, but before you could walk in, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You let out a sigh.

“I like the present much better, Y/N,” he said, speaking into your ear. Your shoulder shrugged involuntary, his whiskers and breath tickling your ear. “The beginning was real nice, but this,” he paused, pressing his lips to your temple, “What we have now, it’s been on my mind since that first cup of coffee.” You looked up at him with a look of awe; it was a confession he’d never made before, and it felt like the perfect moment for him to do so, there in this huge flea market in New Orleans. You had words on the tip of your tongue, but they were stuck there.

When you didn’t reply, Ryan just smiled down at you. It was one of those small, simple, yet significant moments. You’d had so many with him. He let his arm fall from your waist to link his fingers with yours again, leading your further inside. “You make a damn good cup of coffee, Y/N.”

#dani's 150 followers event #drabble requests #ryan brenner x reader #image 6 #a familiar face #aff #look into the future

29 notes · View notes

madblog1 · 6 years ago

Text

Song Slam / Dance Works

As a short project we were asked to create fliers for two events being held at Burton Brewhouse. The fliers had to include the times, cost, title, location and date of the events. Information on the content of the events was limited to “a variety of music types and styles” and the names of both of the events.

First, I started with the event called Song Slam. As suggested in the title, it was safe to assume that it was to be a music festival of sorts and as I wasn’t given a a specific genre of music, I had to develop a design that works for all genres of music, for this, I thought a world design would work best as it represented music from around the world. In developing this design I had a light blue background, dark blue and green planet and light pink waves at the top and bottom. I then added circles around the design in white to represent the various locations of the music and whilest trying design ideas douplicated this over again, shrinking them as I went and adding a darker colour the further ‘back’ they went. This addition was a much needed influence that represented the Slam factor of the design. As I moved on to look for a broken font that would suit the tile, and giving up and making one instead, I found that the new broken title didn’t go well with the delicate design I had created. To accommodate for this, I decided to change the design slightly to keep the planet but to make it broken and being smached by the ‘orbs’ I had made earlier. I then changed the background to a circular gradient to emphasise the central design and look more like it were in space which gave the whole layout a much more eerie feel and epic look. I lastly chose to change the pink into black and use white as the writing. I did find that having both the top and the bottom black made it dark and so changed the colour to white in an overlay layer and to emphasise the title more, I made a black shadow of smooth letters in the back. I did experiment slightly with adding more than one planet but they took away focus and I wanted the design to be simple.

For the second poster, I decided that as both events were in the same place, at the same time and on close dates to each other, that they should have the same appeal and overall appearance to create associations in a viewers mind. The similarities it took was the circular gradient, waves and black and white text. I decided to make the Dance Works poster much lighter as the title was less violent than the other and would make a great contrast to show difference between the two, I chose the colour purple as it was a gender neutral colour whist also being fairly feminine. As Dance was a very gentle word in contrast to Works, I decided that Dance would be in an elegant font where as Works would be in a more structured font. I made sure that both of the fonts I chose were flowing fonts much like dance as a medium and then moved onto the design.

We were then told the client ha been in touch and informed us that they had had some budget cuts and could no longer have two separate designs and instead needed us to merge the two flier designs into one.

With this information, I decided to take a different approach to the design. Originally I had planned to do a silhouette of a dancer in the centre and then use a separate white silhouette in the centre of the dancer however this was quite time consuming and I knew that I had to expect some kind of altereations to the designs. I instead decided to try a different approach. As dance, whilst being a flowing medium, it is also very structured. With this in mind I decided to change the design to something that both flowed and was structured: a circle. This was mainly influenced by my first design and so to add further differences, I decided the circle should be hollow, have a strong white edge and there should be moe than one to indicate the steps in dancing. I used three circles in the end as I felt it looked appealing and also flowed from the top to the bottom of the page well.

With both designs finished, I moved onto merging the two. As the events were both held in the same place, at the same time, at the same price, the only thing that had to be shuffled around was the date. As I had kept everything else in hierarchy at the bottom, it felt a little empty and still looks a little off with the date in a separate place, however, I still believe most of my heirarchy is suitable. Because most of the information was already filled in at the bottom, I thought a vertical divide would best show that it was two events. With both designs cut in half and placed onto the poster I found the Dance Works design to no longer work as before the circle were i the centre in descending size order where as that design didn’t work well with the Song Slam and was very over powered as it covered less area than the other. To compensate this, I placed the biggest circle, which was the same size as the planet in the centre and then included the others in a diagonal flow toward the bottom, keeping the flowing element. I then moved the dates to underneath the event title and changed the main colours of both to match each event.

During a class crit it was commented that I could have had the event that came first on the left hand side as people read from left to right and that my hierarchy needs work, however, that the poster itself seemed to capture the essence of both titles of the events.

As I still had some time left, I decided to also do a design that looked more connected than the first. The colours in the background were in a gradient in place of separate shapes and the design was fairly simple to alter. Removing the planet and extra circles while re-introducing the remainder of the ‘orbs’ made the design look more whole. This design was less preferred as it appeared to be a single event from afar, though this being a flier, that wouldn’t necessarily be a problem.

It was commented that I also could have explored cutting my design horizontally or flipping the flier but I am glad with what I managed to produce.

#flier #song slam #dance works #quick #designs #layout

1 note · View note

pawnshipper247 · 6 years ago

Text

Crossdress Bet

“Well, looks like you lost the bet Yugo,” Yuto said with a smirk. The banana-haired duelist groaned,

“Gah! Fine! Pick your punishment then.”

Yuya patted his synchro counterpart on the back, “There,there Yugo.” Yuto's smirk turned devilish, “Now then, for your punishment. You have to model Yuri's designs all day and you have to let him take you out this afternoon.”

Yugo's face turned pale at the mention of 'Yuri' and 'model'. “Ugh. Fine. This is the worst day ever,” the synchro user grumbled.

Yuri, the fusion user, was know to design clothes, but very specific kinds. Yuri was a crossdresser and a very convincing one at that. He liked to design outfits that suited 'his kind' as he put it. His clients could be any kind, but his taste in models was very specific. Fortunately, or unfortunately in his case, Yugo fit those tastes perfectly; slender body, cute youthful face, and a hint of attitude. Yugo sighed as he resigned himself to a horrible afternoon.

The bell on the door sounded a pleasant chime as Yugo entered Yuri's studio.

“I'll be with you in just a moment,” the fusion user's voice sounded from deeper in.

The sky-and-sunshine haired boy followed the sound of the voice to find Yuri in his work zone. Violet locks pulled back into a low ponytail, mulberry eyes focused on the design adorning the mannequin before him, Yuri sat primly with a pair of pins tucked between his full lips. Yugo leaned against the door frame, watching in silence as the piece slowly took shape under Yuri's expert hands. The first thing that jumped out at Yugo about the outfit was that it was in his colors. A long sleeved, light blue Chinese style blouse edged in darker blue on the cuffs and a ribbon on the collar blossomed out into a sunshine yellow, mermaid-scale patterned skirt that stopped at the knees. Yuri gave the ribbon one final tug then sat back to admire his work with a satisfied smirk on his face. Then those magenta eyes came to rest on Yugo.

“Well this is certainly a surprise,” Yuri smirked, a knowing lilt in his tone, “Usually the only thing that gets you to visit me here is if you've lost a bet with Yuto. He does know how I simply adore your company. So to what pleasure do I owe this unexpected visit today my dear Fusion?”

Yugo bristled at the mistake on his name, “It's Yugo! And from your tone, you already know damn well why I'm here!”

Yuri giggled daintily into one hand, in a manner Yugo would have found adorable if it had been anyone else. This time, Yuri relented his teasing. “Very well. I'll have you start with this one then,” he gestured at the outfit he had just finished. Yugo sighed but nodded, “I didn't have anything better to do today I guess.”

The morning went on with Yugo trying on dozens of Yuri's designs. Some were okay but others were just downright embarrassing. Like the latest one that Yuri had to practically force Yugo into.

A sleeveless white blouse that ruffled down the front and a white jacket that flowered at the cuffs, a short, mid-thigh deep blue skirt with vertical thin stripes of red and yellow that ruffled at the hem and had three buckles at the waist. Deep blue gloves covered his hands and pale white stockings crept up his legs, ending with lacy garters at his thighs. And a pair of dark blue, almost black Mary janes completed the outfit. Yuri came over and fixed a little white top hat, decorated with a pale blue rose, into Yugo's hair. Then he stepped back to give him a once over.

“Yep that about does it,” Yuri crooned at him, “And what a lovely sight you are.”

Yugo stood before the mirror, twisting this way and that.

“I can't tell if you really mean that or if you're just teasing me again,” he muttered, half to himself, but Yuri heard him anyway. The plum haired boy walked over and took Yugo's face in his hands, forcing him to look Yuri in the eyes.

“I do mean it,” he cooed at his counterpart, stroking his thumbs over the other boy's cheeks, “You look absolutely radiant. The sun itself can't compare to your splendor.”

Yugo was silent for a moment, then his cheeks burned red as his mind grasped what Yuri had just said. His crystal blue eyes flitted about, trying to look anywhere but at Yuri's face,

“T-That's embarrassing you idiot!” Yuri giggled at Yugo's flushed face, “You really are too cute. I'll go change and we'll head out for a little bit.”

The sky-and-sunshine haired boy's face paled at the prospect of going out dressed like this but he had no choice in the matter.

“Alright,” he sighed, “Let's go.”

After a while Yuri came out of the changing room and Yugo's jaw dropped open. Yuri wore a full-on dress. The top was ruffled and basically sleeveless with lavender ribbons making a corset-like pattern. A short expanse of lavender fabric circled Yuri's waist before blooming into a gray plaid skirt that fell to his knees. The gray fabric was dotted with dark purple roses and light purple carnations. The skirt was split at the side with another purple ribbon. Another ribbon was tied in the fusion user's violet locks, just above his ear. Yuri's stockings were the same pattern as the skirt, extending up to his mid-thigh before ending with a pair of lacy garters. A pair of simple white flats covered Yuri's dainty feet. A final purple ribbon was wrapped around his left arm from his elbow to his wrist, accentuating how slender his limbs were. As he walked across the room Yugo saw that his eyelids were darkened by lavender eye shadow and his full lips were shiny with gloss. It gave him the appearance of a porcelain doll. Even is hair had been curled slightly.

“Are you ready to go now?” Yugo asked.

Yuri snickered behind one perfectly manicured hand, “I am but you're not.” Yugo blanched as Yuri sat him down before a mirror with make-up in hand.

“Now hold still and don't move,” Yuri ordered, “If you struggle then this will take longer. So close your eyes and let me work.”

Yugo sighed and did as he was told. Yuri fussed with his hair for a while before leaving one side in what felt like a curler. Then he turned his attention to Yugo's face. Yuri's touch on Yugo's skin was surprisingly gentle, tenderly brushing over his eyes, his cheeks, even his lips.

Then he patted Yugo's shoulders, “You can look now. You did very well for your first time with make-up. Most boys put up a fight.” Yugo opened his eyes slowly and his jaw dropped, which Yuri closed with a hand under his chin. The person in the mirror couldn't be him. The right side of his bangs was curled into a perfect spiral. His eyes were accentuated by light blue eye shadow. His cheeks were a rosy pink.

“How did you even manage this?” Yugo breathed, completely in awe.

Yuri basked in the praise, “I'm just that talented I suppose. Now shall we head out on the town my dear?”

Yugo looked up to see Yuri with a single hand extended to him. He took the offered hand and stood up next to Yuri. The plum haired boy latched onto Yugo's arm, hugging it close to his chest. Yugo blushed at the proximity between them.

“W-What are you doing?” he stammered, looking down at the other boy. Yuri looked back with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, “I'm making sure no one else tries to steal my beautiful date from me. You make quite the catch.”

Yugo flushed deeper at that comment. “Don't joke like that you jerk,” he growled, “There's no way any idiot is going to flirt with me.”

Yuri smirked at the sky-and-sunshine haired boy, “Oh I beg to differ my dear Fusion. As far as any guy on the street is concerned, they'll be all over you as soon as they lay eyes on you. Such a naive young lady would be easy prey for them. But don't you worry your pretty little head. I'll fend those brutes off for you.”

Yugo gave his companion a worried look, “I hope you're being serious and not just yanking my chain.” Yuri's eyes turned sharp and dangerous. “I'd like to see them try to get anywhere near you,” he snarled, “I'll show them that it's the prettiest flowers that hide the sharpest of thorns and the deadliest of poisons.” Yuri then fished out his phone, “But first, a picture to commemorate this occasion.” Yugo rolled his eyes as Yuri pressed himself against Yugo's side.

“Smile~,” he cooed.

Yugo let a shy smile cross his lips. Then, all of a sudden, Yuri pressed his own lips to Yugo's cheek in a kiss. As Yugo's expression morphed into one of surprise, Yuri quickly snapped the picture and pranced a few steps back. “Yep,” he sang with a smile, “That one's a keeper for sure.” He turned the screen to Yugo, showing off the picture. The moment of realization was evident on Yugo's face and Yuri's lips were still pressed to his cheek.

“What was that for?” the synchro duelist yelped, holding his burning cheek, as if Yuri's touch had burned him. The fusion user simply snickered, “I was only laying claim to what's mine.”

Yugo's blush darkened to abysmal crimson, “What do you mean 'lay claim to what's yours”?” Yuri smirked and snaked his arms around Yugo's waist, reeling the stuttering boy flush against him. “It's just what I said,” he whispered huskily, “I'm claiming what's mine.” The plum haired boy planted another kiss to Yugo's nose, sending the flustered boy into another sputtering fit.

After he had a chance to calm down, Yugo stared into Yuri's mulberry eyes. He was startled to see the depth of affection in those eyes. He sighed and mirrored Yuri's hold on him, putting his arms around the other boy's waist and holding him close.

“Let's go Yuri,” he said, moving toward the door and holding out his arm for Yuri to hold onto. Yuri's eyes sparkled as he hugged Yugo's arm to his chest once more,

“Okay. I promise I'll show you a good time.”

Yugo looked thoughtfully at the smile on his companion's face. Then he leaned over and captured Yuri's lips with his own, thoroughly startling the other boy. Yuri relaxed into the kiss, shifting his arms around Yugo's neck. They stayed like that for a few moments before the need for oxygen overpowered them.

“Personally, I think the guys are more likely to go after you rather than me,” Yugo panted after he caught his breath, “After all, you're much better-looking than I am. Since you know how to act in this sort of outfit and I don't.”

Yuri shook his head, “You're more of a natural in that outfit. Plus, your first reaction if someone flirts with you is to get shy and embarrassed. Mine is to flirt back.” Yugo let one hand rest on Yuri's hip, “Then I guess we'll have to look out for each other.” That got Yuri to really smile, “I think Yuto took Yuya out today as well. Shall we see if we can find them?” Yugo nodded and followed Yuri out the door.

The outing wasn't all bad. Though Yugo wasn't sure what to make the hungry looks guys were giving him. He'd seen them look at Yuri like that before but it was rather uncomfortable for him. But Yuri kept his promise. Whenever one of the boys tried to approach Yugo Yuri would send the unfortunate soul a searing glare, daring them to try to steal the blond-blunette from him. And when they tried the same thing with Yuri Yugo would pull the plum haired boy close to his side. The pair found Yuto and Yuya sitting at a cafe. They both walked up behind Yuto, motioning for Yuya to keep quiet. Then they threw their arms around the dark duelist shoulders. Yuto let out a startled yelp, indicating that the pair had successfully surprised him.

“Gotcha,” Yuri whispered into the onyx eyed duelist's ear.

Yuya snickered along with Yugo and Yuri at Yuto's reaction. Then the entertainer's attention shifted to Yugo. “Wow!” he said with a smile, “You look really good in that outfit Yugo. Stylish.” Yugo blushed at the compliment but Yuri beat him to answering.

“Of course he looks good. I wouldn't settle for anything less,” the plum haired boy huffed, sidling up to Yugo and latching onto his arm once more. Yugo sighed but curled his arm to give Yuri a little squeeze.

“Looks like you two are getting along better,” Yuto smirked, “I was sure that you would be at each other's throats by now.”

Yugo shared a knowing glance with Yuri, who then shared one with Yuya. Yuya snickered slightly and nodded. The tomato haired boy held up a single white sphere. He bowed with a flourish and threw it at his feet. A plume of white smoke obscured Yuya from view. As his silhouette came into view he moved over to Yugo and Yuri, hiding behind them. Yuto seemed confused, trying to look around to see why he was hiding. But the other two blocked his view. Then all three of them approached him at once. Yugo settled behind Yuto, holding him in place. Yuri stood before him, giving a dainty curtsy. Then he stepped aside and took a spot next to Yugo on Yuto's other side. But Yuto's attention was focused solely on the boy before him. Yuya was clad in a sundress. The top was ruffled around the collar and the sleeves were slightly puffy. It had a sort of corset-like waist with a white rose on the side. Then it blossomed out into a crimson plaid skirt that only fell to mid-thigh and had a single strip of white lace near the hem. Yuya wore a pair of pale white socks that cut off at his ankles and white flats decorated with red ribbons. The socks exposed a generous expanse of Yuya's creamy thighs to Yuto's eager eyes. A white headband with a large white rose sat atop the boy's scarlet and emerald locks. As he walked, Yuto could only watch as those slender hips swayed before his eyes, enticing and alluring. Though Yuto wasn't the only one who thought so. From the corners of his eyes Yuto could see almost ever other male's eyes lock onto the adorable entertainer. But Yuya remained oblivious to this fact. He was more interested in Yuto's reactions. Yuto abruptly stood up, shaking off both Yuri and Yugo's grip on his shoulders. Then he strode over until he stood only inches from Yuya. He gripped his long, black cloak and wrapped it around the pendulum duelist, holding him close to his chest and hiding him from all the stares of other males in the area.

“You shouldn't carelessly expose yourself like that Yuya,” Yuto whispered, “You might give someone the wrong impression. Even I'm having a hard time restraining myself right now.”

Yuya cocked his head to the side curiously, “Restraining yourself? From what?”

Yuto held Yuya closer and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “From dragging you back home and into the bedroom. You're very tempting in that outfit. Even my resolve has its limits.” Yuya's face flushed red all of a sudden,

“Did you maybe consider that perhaps that was my intention?”

Yuto's onyx eyes widened at that comment. Yuya looked up at the boy holding him, like a knight defending a princess, “I'm not as innocent and naive as you think.” He pressed closer to the amethyst haired duelist. Then he pulled his shirt open slightly. Yuto's face burned at the sight before him. Through that tiny gap, black, silky fabric edged with rich purple lace peeked out at him. Yuya's crimson eyes were playful and hopeful as he smiled up at Yuto.

“And just in case you were wondering, the curtains do match the drapes,” he smirked suggestively, “Care to come and see for yourself?”

Yuto didn't answer. He just simply scooped Yuya into his arms, earning him a surprised yelp from the tomato haired boy, and proceeded to carry him down the street towards their shared flat. He waved over his shoulder at the other two and left.

“Well then,” Yuri snickered, “I think that went rather well. Yuya's in for a long night it would seem.”

Yugo tilted his head, “What do you mean by that?” Yuri sighed at Yugo's naivety. He tapped a finger to his chin in thought,

“Hmm. How to put this? Well, Yuto has been pining after Yuya for ages. I figured at this rate his patience would run out eventually. I just...helped them along.”

Yugo smiled at the plum haired male beside him. Then he wrapped his arms around the shorter male, “Are you satisfied with your meddling now?” Yuri smirked and curled up under Yugo's chin,

“Did you have something more entertaining in mind?”

Yugo's grip slid down so his hands caressed Yuri's slender hips before circling his waist tightly, “I may have a few ideas.” Yuri smiled gently, holding out his hand, “Then will you take me home then my brave prince?” Yugo smiled gently as he took the offered hand, bringing it to his lips, “I do believe I will my beloved flower.” Yuri giggled as he wrapped his arms around Yugo's bicep,

“Well then lead the way my love.”

Yugo smirked, “ I think I can do better than that.” He tucked his arms under Yuri's knees and back and lifted him off the ground, being mindful not to give anyone around them an up-skirt peek. Then he strutted off down the street, cuddling the adorable plum haired boy in his arms.

#pawnshipping #yuya sakaki #yuto #yugo #yuri #yugioh arc v #crossdress #counterpartshipping #so floofy

16 notes · View notes

silverfootstepswrites · 7 years ago

Text

title Sunday Nights summary Conversation doesn't help us pairing itasaku, tobisaku, headaches

White mist streamed out of her mouth as she looked at the city. Her skin almost felt like paper. She rubbed her fingers against each other. Then against the front of her coat. She tucked them into her pockets. Leaning against the railing, she stared at the passing faces. Each one blurred into the next, like a carousel of strangers looping around and around. Hoping, straining to see the one face that would stand out from the rest.

When Sakura opened her eyes, she was staring up at an eggshell ceiling. She turned onto her side, fingers pressing to her eyelids. The light that streamed in through the blinds pierced. She fumbled until her fingers connected with the cord. With a hard yank, she closed off the light from outside.

The quiet pooled along with the darkness in this bedroom. It was only until she rolled onto her other side that she could tell which room this was in which apartment. Not that they were much different. They were empty, for the most part. Pale walls with paler furniture. No photographs, no personal trinkets. Just enough outfits in the closet. And if she ran out, she could have more brought in.

These apartments were all interchangeable pieces in a puzzle without colors. Where there was no hunting and matching the jagged edges. One could replace the other. And in a way, that was easy. Because they were all unfamiliar ceilings. They were all lonely places. No one place hurt more than the other.

Sakura grabbed her phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up blue at her touch. She scrolled through the list of missed calls and messages that had sat unread. Emails notified her of bank transfers and meetings scheduled. It was the same pattern of clicking and dragging through one message and then another. Instructing the boys on how many knees to break and how many arms to twist.

She rolled onto her back, arms stretched out at her sides. Staring up at the ceiling, she counted back the days since she had returned to Tokyo. And then counted forward to the days until her next birthday. Paused as she forgot, for a moment, when her own birthday even was.

"I should shower," she announced to no one. As if the words would motivate her. They sort of did.

As she sat up, she caught sight of the one pop of color in the room. A plain glass vase filled with purple flowers. She didn't even remember the name of this particular variety. Itachi had sent her so many different kinds over the course of a month that she had stopped reading the labels.

Just purple and just pretty enough.

She sat for too long in the hot spray, mulling things over. And then she lingered in her towel, staring into the foggy mirror without seeing. She wiped the mirror with her right hand in broad strokes. Until she could see the cherry blossom tattoo running up her right arm. Turning, she followed its bath over her shoulder. On the back of her ribcage was an old poem. She didn't even remember where she had first heard it. Didn't even remember why she had liked it so much in the first place.

She stared at the person in the mirror. Met her eyes. Looked her up and down.

"You're going to be strong today," she promised her. And the woman in the mirror, for a second, looked like she gave a smirk of approval.

Itachi came to the club again. An enormous armful of light pink roses clutched to his chest. His right arm hung at his side. It wasn't in a sling anymore, but she could see that it was still difficult for him to use. She met him by the door, her nude heels pointed like the blade of a knife.

"Do you really not have anything better to do than play delivery boy?" asked Sakura, coming down the stairs. Yet she still accepted the flowers. Her fingertips skimming over the back of his hand. And she must have been smiling because the tip of his gloved thumb touched her lower lip.

He took off his hat. But when he struggled to undo his scarf with one hand, she reached up and unhooked it from the back of his neck. And then he took her hand, neither smiling nor frowning. He turned her hand over, looking at her knuckles, at the thin gold band on her pointer finger. At the two faint cigarette burns on her knuckles. Itachi ran his thumb over them. So gently, as if they were still raw.

She was about to say something else when she felt a hand tug on her elbow. She lifted her head so that Sai could whisper in her ear.

"Uncle Tobirama is heading here. Just him. Not an entourage." And then Sai's eyes darted once to the oyabun standing in their shop. She understood. Putting her hand on his cheek, she whispered instructions to him. Sai's brow furrowed as he took in her orders. Nodding, he slipped away to relay the news to Tenten.

“If I ask you to leave, will you?” she asked, turning to Itachi. He shook his head, so she grabbed the front of his shirt.

“You can't be here right now. He definitely won't like it,” she warned. He grasped her forearm in return.

"Who?" he asked, his eyes not at all serious.

"Who could be so intimidating that he rattles even the great Jing-Mei?" he demanded. Her temper flared, she shoved at his chest. But he held on the same, eyes never leaving hers. And she hated the way that he seemed to see through her, like she was painted onto glass. Gritting her teeth, she tried to shove him again. He didn't even budge. Injured or not, he was evidently stronger than she was.

"Why?" he tried instead.

When she tried to pull away, his hold tightened.

"Fine," she relented, sagging. And then he released her.

She shook her arms, letting her sleeves fall back where they should. Fixed her hair, pretended to fuss with the buttons on the front of her dress before she looked at him again.

"It's...complicated. I don't really have time to go into detail," she admitted. His expression didn't change.

"That was the most non-answer answer I've ever heard," he criticized. Her eyes narrowed.

"That's all I can say for now. And it'll be much easier for me to deal with if you're not here," she added with a pointed look at the door.

Itachi didn't budge.

They were beginning to draw curious eyes. So she leaned in close, meeting his gaze straight on. She rose on her tiptoes. And his head bowed to meet her. Placing her hands on either side of his face, she whispered:

"I'm asking you. If you stay, please, just don't let him see your face."

Before he could react, she slipped away. Her tapping heels urgent against the tile. Sai was only a few steps behind her, suddenly barking orders and moving the staff around.

The air in the club seemed to sharpen, somehow. Some of the customers who had been laughing and clinking glasses with the girls changed. Exchanging looks with the staff, and then their eyes trailing Sakura. Following her as she went up to her office and them came back downstairs. Everyone else was oblivious, of course. There were pockets of nervous eyes amidst the laughter.

When the front door opened, a small ripple went through the room. The tiny action of hands edging toward concealed weapons. Fingers tightening around glasses that became easy blades when smashed.

It was just one of the regulars who had dropped in for round two after work. One of the girls hurried up to usher him to a table, hanging onto his arm.

Itachi took a seat at the far end of the bar, his back to the door. Before he could order, Tenten poured him a drink and pushed it down to him. Her towel gave a sharp snap before she resumed wiping glasses.

Their eyes met. Itachi had never seen Tenten look so unsettled before.

The door opened a second time. Winter clung on Tokyo's heels, refusing to make room for spring. The smell of the cold blew in. And two men stepped in after. The noise in the room faltered for just a moment.

"Welcome!" Ayu exclaimed, offering her best smile. And it was a very charming smile- showing off her twin dimples.

Itachi spotted Tommy sitting in his usual spot. Tommy's gaze darted to the two men, and then he looked back at Itachi, shaking his head.

"What's wrong? Aren't you having fun?" asked Moegi, tugging on his wrist. Grinning, he put his arm around her.

"Sorry, ladies. I was just stunned by your beauty for a second, yeah," he replied.

"Oh, you flirt!" they scolded, laughter swelling around them. And that seemed to pop the bubble of sudden quiet. Like someone had paused a song and then pressed play again.

The yakuza were certainly intimidating with their dark sunglasses and identical black suits. Some of them rolled up their sleeves to show off their tattoos.

These men were unsettling in a different way. They scanned the room for a long moment, unsmiling. One had a vertical scar over his left eye. He was in a long grey coat with black leather gloves. Gold and sapphire buttons on his sleeves. Gleaming shoes that were so unscuffed that they belonged on mannequins.

The other was Tobirama, who wore a black jacket with a fur hood. But the fur was a silvery-grey that blended in with his hair. Combined with his height, it made him look like a giant wolf filling the doorway.

Neither of them spoke. So Ayu tried again in her awkward English.

"Can I help you?"

But then Tobirama glimpsed pink hair past the curtain in the back. He murmured something to his companion.

"There's no need," he then replied to Moegi in excellent Japanese. And they walked around her, as easily as if she were a piece of furniture.

The man with the scar spread his arms wide as he pushed past the curtain.

"Jing-Mei," he drawled. Sakura's turned, her expression flat. She pulled out her gun, the gold gleaming between her fingers. She pointed it dead-center between his eyes.

"I thought you were dead," she stated. He seemed unconcerned as he collapsed in the seat across from her. Kicking up his shoes on the table, he draped his arms across the back of the booth.

"Kakashi."

Both of them looked up as Tobirama walked up. One hand in the pocket of his tailored black pants. His white shirt was a little wrinkled, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He draped his jacket over his left forearm.

"Don't be rude," chastised Tobirama. When Kakashi didn't move, Tobirama reached into his back pocket. Leisurely as if he were getting a stick of gum. Instead, he took out a pistol.

"Maybe you’re hard of hearing now, old man? Feet," Tobirama snapped.

Heaving a sigh, Kakashi lowered his feet- one at a time. Tobirama pockets his firearm, settling beside Sakura. Not exactly close, but not far either.

Sakura kept her arm steady.

"You know, there was a time when you two called me 'Uncle'. Now I'm getting scolded like a schoolboy," lamented Kakashi. He opened his coat, shedding his gloves. Half of his left pinky ended in a stump. But there was a silver ring on it, as if rewarding it for its ugliness.

"That's not true, Kakashi. Schoolchildren at least know basic manners," retorted Sakura. And then, she lowered her gun. Her pointer finger rested on the trigger. With her other hand, she snapped, bringing Sai over.

"Daai lou," he greeted the two men, bowing. Tobirama nodded. Kakashi looked him over, not saying anything.

"Whiskey, neat for our guests. Pinot noir for me," Sakura said. Sai bowed again before ducking past the curtain to head for the bar.

"I was wondering why it was so quiet. That one’s not in Hong Kong to start trouble. He’s just like you, Jing-Mei," Tobirama observed, staring after him. Sakura turned her head away, scoffing.

“He was just a little errand boy in my time. I never assumed he’d catch your eye,” Kakashi said.

At this, Sakura crossed one leg over the other. The high slit in her dress opened and her thigh peeked out. She felt Tobirama glance at it but ignored him. Pinning Kakashi with a glare, she opened her mouth.

"Well you made an assumption that I wouldn't kill if you showed your face here. Looks like you aren't doing so hot tonight, Mad Dog," she threatened. Her voice all silken and soft.

"Aiya, Sakura, don't be like that," sighed Kakashi. "Us halfies have to stick together, you know?"

When she had first come to Hong Kong, she hadn't really felt like she belonged anywhere. Kakashi had a Japanese father and a Chinese mother. He claimed that his old man had died of cancer, although there were rumors that Kakashi had slit his throat for leaving his mother.

"We halfies have to look out for each other, right?" he always said. Dropping off weapons and packages for her to hide. Slipping her candies from Japan in case she felt homesick. In her youth, those little kindnesses had warmed her heart.

But as Hashirama brought her into the fold, he made a point to keep Kakashi far away from her.

"Be careful, Jing-Mei. Mad Dog talks nice, but that's the problem. He's all talk. He's the type to bring a book of poems to a gunfight."

Eyeing his easy smile, Sakura scoffed.

"Kakashi," she said. (Which wasn't even his real name. Because who would name their child 'scarecrow'?) "Kakashi, the only thing you are is half 'jack' and half 'ass'."

Tobirama snorted as Sai arrived with drinks. Sai placed the tumbler in Tobirama's waiting fingers before setting the other glass in front of Kakashi. Without looking up, Sakura raised her hand over her shoulder. Sai slipped the stem between her knuckles. Her palm molded to the shape of the glass.

"Thank you, Sai," she called after his retreating back.

"Yeah, Mama," he replied, also not looking at her.

"But seriously, don't be like that, Jing-Mei. We had a deal, remember?" insisted Kakashi, leaning forward. His elbows on his thighs. He cracked that old grin- the one he used like a lockpick to always wiggle his way in.

Sakura eyed him over the rim of her glass. She took a long sip. The wine was the same color as her lips, staining her teeth black for a second.

"I can't recall," she answered.

Kakashi huffed. He picked up his drink and took a sip. Made a noise of approval. Took another sip.

“This is some good shit,” he commented. And then, eyes narrowing, he pointed at her.

“You look like you’re doing well for yourself, Haruno. This is a swanky joint,” observed Kakashi, looking around. At the high ceilings. At the gleaming floors and twinkling string lights. Something in his gaze shifted. Leaning back in the seat, he continued pointing.

“I always knew you would make it big, Jing-Mei. Which is why I gave you so much,” Kakashi insisted. Rolling her eyes, Sakura set her glass down. She stood, walking over to adjust the curtain. As she peered past, she saw Charlie staring at her. Her eyes darted to the bar and then back to him. He got up, ignoring the way the puzzled hostesses called after him.

“You didn’t do shit for me, Mad Dog,” Sakura retorted, still staring out at the club. She stepped back to her table. Sank into her seat. Just a little closer to Tobirama than before. She could smell his cologne. When she reached to pick up her wine again, her arm brushed against his elbow.

And then, she tilted her head back, considering the chandelier. It was a custom-made design flown in from New York City. The clusters of glass flowers glowed soft yellow. Casting golden shapes across the ceiling like many reaching hands.

She spun the stem of her glass between her fingers. Let her eyes flutter shut.

"Ah. Yes. Now I recall. You were supposed to give me your territory. In exchange, I would help you disappear," she stated. Eyes falling open. Mouth curling on one side. She pointed with the hand holding her wine.

"Whatever happened, Mad Dog?" she questioned.

His smile faltered. Clearing his throat.

"Now, Jing-Mei. You know that things got messy. I didn’t realize the Red Arrow gang would move in so quickly," he began, holding up his hands in front of him.

"Oh. I see." Her eyes narrowed. She took a sip of wine. Licked her lips.

"And remember that it all worked out in the end? You have the Mid-Levels now. Those are some high-ranking people under your protection. Plus I gave you Charlie Lau. Don't you like Charlie Lau? He's useful, isn't he?" he reminded her. Beside her, Tobirama scoffed.

"I thought that the deal was all you owned. Whatever happened to your slice of Aberdeen?" Tobirama pointed out, examining his nails.

Kakashi shot a glare in the other man's direction.

"I thought you were here to help me talk to her," he grumbled. Tobirama looked guiltless. His gaze darted toward Sakura. And then he shrugged.

"The deal was that I get her attention. I never said anything else," scoffed the Red Pole. He leaned back, arms draping over the top of the booth. Sakura glanced at him, almost laughing. And their eyes locked.

"What was in it for you, Tobirama?" she queried. His eyebrows arched.

"Let's just say that drinks are on me tonight," responded Tobirama. She looked back at the man sitting across from them.

"At any rate, you didn't hold up your end of the bargain, Mad Dog. Cleaning up after that mess was a pain in my ass for months. What makes you think that I'll ever listen to another word you have to say?" she demanded.

Kakashi suddenly looked small. It was hard to believe that he had once been a Red Pole just like them. His eyes darted around. That was his speciality- finding a way to charm his way out of every sticky situation. He spread his hands, shrugging.

"My rugged good looks?" Kakashi ventured.

She leveled her Desert Eagle at him. The barrel glinted. She took another sip of wine with her other hand.

"Try again," she said, unsmiling.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his head. Letting out a sigh, he stared down at his feet. And then he rubbed his face with both his hands.

"Fuck, Jing-Mei. My wife is pregnant," he confessed in a muffled voice.

Her gun didn't waver. "So?"

His head shot up. Leaning forward, he slammed both his hands down on the tabletop. The club suddenly went silent at the noise.

"Mama? Is everything alright?" called Moegi from her table.

"Everything's fine. Don't worry, dear," replied Sakura, her voice light and pleasant. That didn't stop Sai from sticking his head behind the curtain. He took in Kakashi's aggressive pose. Sakura's gun pointed at his forehead. She could see Sai reaching for his own firearm concealed under his black vest.

"Unnecessary. I would like some more wine though," Sakura stated. She held Sai's gaze until he lowered his hands.

"Of course, Mama," he ground out. Shooting Kakashi one last glare, he disappeared behind the curtain.

"Are you serious? Come on, Jing-Mei? How long have we known each other? That really doesn't matter at all to you? Do you seriously have no loyalty left for someone you used to call a 24K brother?" demanded Kakashi.

"You told me once that all that brotherhood talk wasn't worth shit. That it's more important to watch out for yourself. I'm just following your advice, daai lou," retorted Sakura. But after she considered him a while longer, she lowered her gun. Left it on the seat beside her.

"But congratulations, I suppose," she then added. Folding her arms across her chest, she leaned back. Her shoulder knocked into Tobirama's hand. But she didn't flinch away.

"So. What do you want?" she then questioned.

"To get the hell out of Hong Kong," he replied without hesitation. Hands clasping together, he let out a sigh.

"I thought just getting off the island would be it. Kowloon seemed safe enough. But now shit's going down and I don't want my kid growing up near any of that," Kakashi explained. And then he looked up. His eyes met hers.

And she hated how she understood that expression right away. Because she had seen it so many times in her mother's tired looks. Her soundless sobs as she washed her muddy and blood-stained uniform.

Hadn't been kind enough to stop fighting. Hadn't been smart enough to lie whenever her mother asked if she had failed her.

"I need six months to gather my funds to move to America. Let me stay here in the meantime," requested Kakashi.

Her expression didn't shift. Even as she felt Tobirama's fingers trail down the back of her neck.

"You won't be invisible in Japan, Kakashi. You still have a lot of enemies," Sakura pointed out. But she looked him over as she considered. At the weariness etched into his posture and his gaze. Calculated that, although taking over his territory had been a true pain in her ass- he had made her much richer.

"Six months from tomorrow. Not a day later," she relented. Before he could thank her, she glared.

"You step one toe over the line, you are and your wife are dead, Mad Dog. Pregnant or not. Now get out before I change my mind," she warned. Kakashi bowed low, forehead almost touching his knees. Gathering his gloves, he got to his feet. Nodded at Tobirama. And then he left.

Because even if he had a reputation for being all talk, Sakura didn't.

Tobirama and Sakura didn't look at each other for a while. The club cooled as the door opened and shut. Sakura swirled her wine around in the glass.

"Now, I'm curious. Have you found York yet?" she asked, eyes trained on her knee. She measured the distance between each word. Careful. Light.

His fingers on the back of her neck stilled.

"Not yet. Rumor's say he's still here. He's starting to really piss me off," replied Tobirama, sighing. She glimpsed him running his hand through his hair.

"I see."

Drinking the rest of her wine, she set the glass aside. She examined her nails as she spoke: "I'll let you borrow Charlie Lau for a couple days. He's good at finding rats. He'll be helpful, especially since this is his turf. Doesn't make him look good either if York's running around under his nose."

Lifting her head, she met Tobirama's eyes.

"Good?" she asked.

“I’ll be out of the city as soon as I find Ng,” he responded. Getting to his feet, he handed her a few bills. More than enough to cover his whiskey and Kakashi’s.

“Fine,” answered Sakura. And then he walked out the door, pulling on his jacket as he went.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Tenten sagged against the bar. Sai did the same, his hands clenching into fists.

Itachi stared at them.

“Was that someone big?” he questioned.

Sai squeezed his eyes shut, a visible shudder running up his spine. Tenten, grimacing, nodded.

“That’s one of the other Red Poles. He goes by Tobirama, even though that’s definitely not his real name,” she explained. And then she cast a look toward the door. Like Tobirama might walk back in.

“I wouldn’t ask too many questions about him, daai lou. That man is dangerous,” added Tenten.

Sakura counted through the bills. Sandwiched in the middle was a brand new credit card. Sleek and black. Apparently, Tobirama was planning on creating a mess if he was giving her such a nice present. She slipped just the card into her bra.

“If you’re done gossiping, I need you to call me the car, Tenten,” Sakura called out.

“Shit, she has good hearing,” Tenten hissed, patting her pockets to find her phone.

Sakura walked over to the bar. She leaned against it just beside Itachi.

“The Uchiha’s don’t touch drugs. So you wouldn’t happen to know anything about the whereabouts of a dealer named York Ng, correct?” she asked. Itachi shook his head.

“I hope you’re telling the truth. Because it’s about to get really ugly in Yokohama,” Sakura predicted. Heaving a sigh, she stood up straight. Itachi took her hand, turning her toward him.

“Jing-Mei-”

“Go home for tonight, Itachi. I have some business to take care of now,” she interrupted him. She could feel him looking her face over. But unlike with either Hashirama or Tobirama, she didn’t feel exposed. He couldn’t see through or into her. Her expression was a mystery to him. But it was no mystery to her that he was worried.

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Itachi. His thumb ran over her knuckles. She pulled away, smiling. She touched his cheek with the back of her hand for a second.

“You’re sweet, Kumicho. But this is 24K business,” she answered. Blowing him a kiss, she turned to head for the door. Sai was waiting for her with her white fur coat and purse.

“Have someone follow Mad Dog. Report in every hour,” she whispered as she pulled her hands through the sleeves. Sai nodded. She patted his shoulder, slipped him the money that Tobirama had left. Was out the door, into the frozen streets. The smell of wine and roses mixing in her nose. Lingering like an unwanted guest long after the party had ended.

Sakura glanced around. Then looked down at her watch. The car was nowhere to be seen. Sighing, she shifted her coat over her shoulders. Craned her neck to peer down the block both ways.

She jolted when she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

“Sakura.”

“Itachi, I’m serious. Go home.” She turned on her heel. Saw the expression on his face and paused. He was still in the neon lights, the blues and pinks washing the color out of his face. The collar of his jacket was crooked again. She reached out to fix it.

“I’ll wait with you. A lady shouldn’t be alone on the streets this late,” Itachi responded, completely serious. The smile that came to her lips almost hurt.

“Have you forgotten who I am? I’m not in danger,” Sakura reminded him. She reached into her coat for a cigarette. Stopped when she heard him chuckle.

“It’s more of a courtesy than anything. You’re still a lady,” he simply said. Holding his hand out to her. She watched it, wary.

“What’re you playing at, Uchiha Itachi? You already have my favor. No need to kiss ass any more than this,” demanded Sakura, eyes narrowing. She pulled the cigarette out, holding it between her pointer and middle fingers. And when she looked up, his lighter was waiting for her.

She stared at him through the flickering flame. At the way he cupped one hand around it to protect it from the wind. At the way he watched her through his eyelashes. How, unsmiling, he looked more and more like his father each time she saw him.

“Do you really hate it so much?” queried Itachi.

Sakura touched her cigarette to the flame. Waited for the smoke to rise. She took a breath, leaned away.

“Not particularly,” she admitted, not meeting his eyes. A smile curled at his mouth.

Before he could respond, a black car rolled to a stop beside them. Sakura didn’t recognize the shape or the license plate. Both the front and back windows opened. Itachi was already pulling her out of the way before she could react.

“This is your only warning, bitch,” a voice said from inside. And then they opened fire. Gun smoke and the crack of bullets erupted into the night. And the nearby civilians screamed, scrambling for shelter. Itachi pulled her behind a utility pole, his good arm digging into his jacket pocket.

The door to the club slammed open. Tenten and Sai emerged, guns blazing. They had thrown random customers’ scarves over their heads to hide their faces. But Sakura could pick out Tenten from the way that she was shooting with both hands.

Sakura felt a vibration inside her coat. She pawed through the layers of fur until she found her phone. She could hardly hear Tommy through all the screaming and gunfire.

“Boss, just called for backup. Where are you?” he shouted. Sakura peered around the pole, jolted back when a bullet ricocheted off the edge. She glanced over at Itachi, he was also shouting into his phone. But when he met her eyes, he grabbed her by the front of the coat and held her close.

“Out front. I’m behind cover with the kumicho,” she replied.

“We’ll be fi-” Glass shattered somewhere behind Tommy. And then he heard one of the girls begin shrieking. “We’ll be fine! Just get out of here for now, Boss!”

Hearing her name, Sakura looked up. She saw Tenten was taking cover behind another pole, reloading her gun. Sai crouched beside her, attempting to pick off the driver. But all the bullets did were bounce off the reinforced sides of the car. Tenten gestured for her to go with a sharp jerk of her hand.

“Diu,” she hissed to herself. And then she cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder as she dug back in her coat. Her fingers curled around her Desert Eagle.

“Call Rock Lee. I don’t care what he’s doing. Fly his ass over here! I’ll leave things to you three,” Sakura shouted.

“Mou man tai. No problem, Boss,” replied Tommy. And then the call ended. Sakura shoved her phone back into her pocket. Grabbed Itachi by the front of his coat.

“You got a ride, Kumicho?” she asked. They both flinched as bullets peppered the wall precariously close to their heads. Itachi reached back to pull a pistol out from under his jacket. He pointed down the opposite end of the street with it.

“I’ll cover for you. Get us out of here,” Sakura said. Nodding, Itachi scanned the area. He fired a couple shots off at the car. Sakura lifted her arm to do the same. Her bullet squeezed in through the gap in the window. Red exploded out from inside the car.

They darted out from behind the pole. Tenten and Sai unleashed a rain of bullets down on the car to cover them.

Sakura looked over her shoulder. Squinted through all the smoke and debris at the license plate of the car. Saw a chrysanthemum etched into the side of the plate. Nearly stumbled. Itachi took her hand and pulled her forward.

“Fucking shit. Tobirama,” she snarled as she ran as fast as she could.

#eastern suns #itasaku #tobisaku #triad!sakura x yakuza!itachi #writing #guess who's back from vacation #aloha my children #triad!au

143 notes · View notes

lovingitaromantic · 4 years ago

Photo

[ID: 9 demiromantic combo flags. In order is rainbow, lesbian, gay, nonbinary, trans, ace, pan, ply.

flag 1: A demiaro rainbow combo flag. There are 4 vertical stripes with a diamond in the center of the third stripe. The colors are dark purple/green/yellow/orange. The diamond is dark purple.

flag 2: A demiaro lesbian combo flag. There are 4 vertical stripes with a diamond in the center of the third stripe. The colors are dark red/light green-gray/white/burnt orange. The diamond is dark red.

flag 3: A demiaro gay flag. There are 4 vertical stripes with a diamond in the center of the third stripe. The colors are dark brown/green/white/muted purple. The diamond is dark brown.

flag 4: A demiaro nonbinary combo flag. There are 4 vertical stripes with a diamond in the center of the third stripe. The colors are black/gray/white/gold-yellow. The diamond is black.

flag 5: A demiaro trans combo flag. There are 4 vertical stripes with a diamond in the center of the third stripe. The colors are dark teal/yellow-gray/white/light blue. The diamond is dark teal.

flag 6: A demiaro ace combo flag. There are 4 vertical stripes with a diamond in the center of the third stripe. The colors are black/green/white/purple. The diamond is black.

flag 7: A demiaro bi combo flag. There are 4 vertical stripes with a diamond in the center of the third stripe. The colors are dark blue/dark green/light purple/pink. The diamond is dark blue.

flag 8: A demiaro pan combo flag. There are 4 vertical stripes with a diamond in the center of the third stripe. The colors are dark blue/like green/yellow/pink. The diamond is dark blue.

flag 9: A demiaro ply combo flag. There are 4 vertical stripes with a diamond in the center of the third stripe. The colors are dark blue/green/mint green/pink. The diamond is dark blue. End ID]

[ID: The reblog contains 9 demiromantic combo flag variants in the original flag with the triangle on the left side and three stripes. In order is rainbow, lesbian, gay, nonbinary, trans, ace, bi, pan, ply.

flag 1: A demiaro rainbow combo flag. The flag has a sideways triangle on the left side and three stripes with the middle one being thinner than the others. The triangle is dark purple. The stripe colors are yellow/green/orange.

flag 2: A demiaro lesbian combo flag. The flag has a sideways triangle on the left side and three stripes with the middle one being thinner than the others. The triangle is dark red. The stripe colors are white/gray-green/muted orange.

flag 3: A demiaro gay combo flag. The flag has a sideways triangle on the left side and three stripes with the middle one being thinner than the others. The triangle is dark brown. The stripes are white/green/muted purple.

flag 4: A demiaro nonbinary combo flag. The flag has a sideways triangle on the left side and three stripes with the middle one being thinner than the others. The triangle is black. The stripes are white/gray/yellow.

flag 5: A demiaro trans combo flag. The flag has a sideways triangle on the left side and three stripes with the middle one being thinner than the others. The triangle is blue. The stripe colors are white/green-gray/light blue.

flag 6: A demiaro ace combo flag. The flag has a sideways triangle on the left side and three stripes with the middle one being thinner than the others. The triangle is black. The stripe colors are white/green/purple.

flag 7: A demiaro bi combo flag. The flag has a sideways triangle on the left side and three stripes with the middle one being thinner than the others. The triangle is dark blue. The stripes are light purple/dark teal/pink.

flag 8: A demiaro pan combo flag. The flag has a sideways triangle on the left side and three stripes with the middle one being thinner than the others. The triangle is dark blue. The stripe colors are yellow/lime green/pink.

flag 9: A demiaro ply combo flag. The flag has a sideways triangle on the left side and three stripes with the middle one being thinner than the others. The triangle is dark blue. The colors are mint green/green/pink. End ID]

Demiromantic combo flags

Rainbow | Lesbian | Gay

NB | Trans | Ace

Bi | Pan | Ply

Triangle versions under the cut, in the same order

Keep reading

#pride edits #combo flags #demiaro #gay #lesbian #gay man #ply #nonbinary #trans #ace #pan #captioned #long post #queue

27 notes · View notes

reekierevelator · 7 years ago

Text

The Art of Success - Chapter 2

Rain lashed down from the black clouds traversing a leaden sky. It was summertime in Edinburgh.

Peter stood squeezed inside a building resembling a large bus shelter, the glass-walled waiting room for the crematorium chapel. He regretted the warm sunshine he had left behind at his home in Tuscany but was pleased to have made it to the funeral of the woman whose help he appreciated so much.

He watched through the rivulets of rain that ran down the smeared windows as, thirty metres away, the doors of the chapel opened and a small crowd of elderly people were exiting. They queued for a brief word with the line-up of the bereaved, and once outside some briskly shook hands with friends before fleeing to the car park under hastily erected umbrellas. The doors of the small adjoining secondary chapel then also opened, and the mourners were joined by an additional handful of people likewise hurrying away as fast as possible.

A wispy line of black smoke rose from the crematorium’s aluminium tower and disappeared into the dark sky.

Peter surreptitiously checked his watch again, and self-consciously fingered his powder blue tie, wondering if the colour of his face was still an object of curiosity in Edinburgh. He looked down concerned that his scarlet waistcoat might be visible under his buttoned-up jacket. His left foot tapped nervously. He waited for Georgy Brown’s funeral procession. In the timetabled queue of the dead it was scheduled to arrive outside the chapel in the next few minutes.

The waiting room was steamed up. Peter glanced around him. The damp, dark-clad crowd of the middle-aged and the old who were crammed into the room looked uniformly miserable. Peter imagined them as ideal film extras, straggling along behind a horse-drawn black carriage, part of a slow procession led by a man in a black tailcoat suit and a tall black hat. A suitable crowd for a Victorian funeral. They stood silently or talking in whispers.

Georgy’s circle of friends and relations appeared to be much wider than he had expected. Peter quickly squinted round the shelter searching the motley assembly for anyone he might know. But there was no-one. All the other faces were elderly and white.

The door of the steaming room was flung open, letting in a draught of cold, fresh air together with a smattering of rain. A large woman with a broad smile enlivening her flushed, podgy face fought her way inside, pushing and jostling. Dozens of eyes stared at her incredulously. She wore a clear plastic rain cape with hood, but the clothes beneath were as brightly coloured as a child’s painting. A floral pattern on a bright yellow background was clearly discernible. Pulling back the hood she revealed long hair dyed in green and blue streaks, silvery roots not quite invisible; a pink Alice band helped to hold in place a broad collection of daisies, buttercups, and dandelions which had been woven into her hair.

In the waiting room there was a collective, audible, intake of breath.

Crushed up next to Peter he noticed the woman’s large dark blue eyes twinkling under emerald green painted eyelids and black eyelashes. The blue and green of her hair and eyes lit up her chubby face like a Christmas tree.

“What an awful lot of people,” she muttered to no-one in particular. “Who knew she had so many friends?”

“Yes, a big turnout,” Peter responded quietly, hesitantly, “Like you, I was honestly under the impression she was more an insular kind of person.”

Having found an audience the woman felt confident enough to speak more loudly.

“I do like your tie, dear” she said. “Lovely shade of blue. Wasn’t it splendid to make a last wish for the funeral to be a jolly affair; everyone to wear bright clothes to celebrate a life lived and enjoyed, rather than having to pretend to be solemn, sombre, and stern-faced. No point just sadly grieving over a meaningless corpse. Just ashes to ashes, nothing to do with human spirit after all.”

Consternation registered on various dour faces nearby.

Peter amused himself speculating about the otherwise absent bright clothes which had been specified. Perhaps as word spread there would follow a flurry of activity in the room. Men would remove black ties and find bright coloured handkerchiefs to put in their top pockets. Women would remove hats, search their handbags and apply bright red lipstick. Jackets with bright coloured linings would be turned inside out. The sound of staid Calvinism would be replaced by a festive hubbub of renewed vitality.

But Peter’s daydream was cut short as he followed the collective gaze which focused, through the rain battered windows, on a large cavalcade of black limousines arriving. The cars drove into the wide circular turning point immediately in front of the main chapel. Emerging from the first car the undertaker’s pallbearers carefully unloaded a polished walnut coffin while they studiously ignored the rain beating down on them. They carried the coffin into the chapel by its delicate black metal handles, respectfully, with much ceremony.

An usher suddenly threw open the door of the waiting room and cold damp air rushed in. He announced loudly that the chapel was now available for those attending the funeral of George Brown.

Peter and the brightly dressed woman were pushed out of the door ahead of the bustling crowd, which hurried en masse, almost running, through the rain in order to achieve sanctuary from the weather in the main chapel.

Peter held back from following them, his face scrunched up in confusion. The brightly clad woman likewise stood beside him, a frown contorting her face, as the rain watered her floral headdress.

“Did he say George Brown?” Peter asked.

“Yes, I think that is indeed what he said.”

“Do you think he made a simple mistake with the name?”

The rain eased off as the ushers made to close the main chapel doors. Peter took a few hesitant steps towards them.

Just then an antique VW Dormobile, painted canary yellow, pulled up outside the small adjacent chapel, just the other side of a small grassy knoll. Transfer stickers, large childlike purple, red, and blue flowers, covered much of the vehicle’s bodywork. A huge wreath of red-berried cotoneaster threaded with pink and scarlet roses and golden sunflowers was tied to the roof.

As the clouds passed, the sun took the opportunity to shyly blink through them.

Peter was surprised to see six people emerge from the car. The first to appear was a serious looking older gentleman in a crumpled sky blue linen suit. Then, two men in vertically striped boating blazers. One was quite corpulent in a maroon and white blazer, large black spectacles giving prominence to his fat, almost bald, head. The other was a slim black man in a navy blue and white blazer. Both blazer wearers sported panama hats and gleaming white trousers. And there came three slim ladies. One wore her blonde hair very short and a dazzling white dress gleamed under a pink coat. There was a petite Asian looking woman in a bright orange coat over a lemon yellow jacket and candy striped leggings. Finally, there was a third lady, dressed conventionally, almost entirely in jet black matching her hair. But under a bolero jacket she wore a top of such iridescent deep purple that she looked as outlandishly out of place at a Scottish funeral as all the rest of them.

“That’s more like it,” shouted Peter’s companion, and waved at them furiously.

Peter waved too, smiling as he recognised the characteristic dark skin and neat black beard and moustache that belonged to the man in the navy blazer. It was the man he’d once admired and been acquainted with all those years ago. Of course, until the recent phone call he’d long since lost touch with him. It crossed Peter’s mind that disappearing, losing touch with people, had been his way of life for a long time. After seven years he doubted there would be anyone else there he’d know. But at least he’d recognised Josh McAlpine.

Together, Peter and his new found lady friend hurried over the little hillock towards the merry group.

Georgina Brown’s funeral might well be a more intimate affair, but it looked like it would be a much jollier and more energised congregation than the one he’d just left behind.

“I’m Peter by the way,” he said, finally introducing himself to his florally flamboyant companion as they approached the excitable group hopping around beside the yellow car.

“Oh, so you’re Peter. I’ve heard you mentioned. You paint, do you not? Of course. I’m Tabby, Tabitha Fitzgerald.”

“Also an artist?”

“A poet, my dear. Well, I write verses.”

“Yes, I think I remember Georgina mentioned sponsoring a poet.”

“How odd we’ve never met before.”

“Busy lives. I’m based in Italy. Irregular visits home, I’m afraid. And Georgy didn’t share much; seemed more of a hermit. Even in the few months I knew her we only spoke two or three times. To be honest, I haven’t seen or heard from her since I moved abroad. I send my pictures to her but I’m only ever contacted by her assistant.”

“I think she was perpetually stuck in her little room, her little hidey-hole, for many years, beavering away, churning out book after book. And never really getting that much recognition.”

“Maybe posthumously….”

“You know Peter, I’m thinking there will be plenty of time for us to get to know each other at the reception. Well, I say reception, I use the term loosely. I suspect it will be more of a boisterous Irish wake. Drink will no doubt be taken. If I’m home early tonight I’ll be disappointed.”

“Yes, I think I might be too. It will be good to catch up with old friends again.”

#short story #Reekie Revelator #art #Crime #edinburgh

1 note · View note