#Because I got to write Ga On when he was more fierce | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amethystina · 2 years ago

Note

If The Gentle Light had continued, what, do you think, would Yo Han's immediate thoughts/feelings have been upon seeing Ga On again?

Well. I mean. I don't really think — I know. Because I'm sometimes forced to write down the Yo Han bits that just won't leave me the fuck alone. Usually just short snippets, often ones that aren't even connected, but yeah. If I don't, they'll keep looping inside my head, slowly driving me insane.

So anon can have some Yo Han POV, as a treat:

Yo Han took another sauntering step forward, gaze wandering over Kim Ga On's terrace. Pots, plants, and various tools littered the space, but it was by no means cluttered or disorganized. Everything had its proper place, either tucked away in practical plastic crates or arranged in neat little rows. Even the plants were positioned with great care, lining the otherwise empty space — enveloping it, turning it into something more than just a terrace.

Like a small oasis of life — delicate yet vibrant — right there in the heart of Seoul.

Yo Han shook his head and walked over to the shelf placed against one of the walls, plants of all shapes and sizes crowding together inside it.

How very like Ga On, to surround himself with so much life.

And to be so desperate for something to care for that he hoarded these frail little plants, showering them with the love and affection he couldn't find an outlet for elsewhere. It seemed that Kim Ga On might very well cease to exist if he wasn't allowed to care for and nurture the living and breathing things around him, the need going beyond instinct into outright compulsion.

That innocence and selflessness was a weakness — a big, blinking target, so easy to exploit — but, at the same time, so breathtakingly beautiful it only added to Ga On's radiance.

Yo Han was frustrated by how much he adored it.

He reached out and slowly ran his finger along the leaf of one of the nearby plants. Yo Han was no expert, but it looked paler than it probably should have — closer to yellow than green. He frowned, his gaze flicking between the plants in front of him.

Almost every single one of them looked the same.

Discolored, with drooping leaves, some even edged with dry, crusty browns.

A small flicker of discomfort — of dawning realization — was all the warning Yo Han got before his chest clenched. He had no time to brace himself, the bloom of concern fierce enough to almost knock the breath out of him.

The implication was all too clear.

Kim Ga On might be withering away faster than Yo Han had anticipated.

___

Though I guess that's technically BEFORE he sees Ga On? So here's the one when he actually turns around and sees him for the first time in months:

Yo Han had pictured the moment many times over. He'd wondered — maybe even fantasized — what it would be like to see Ga On again after so many months apart. But none of those scenarios, each studied and evaluated down to the smallest detail, could prepare Yo Han for what he actually found when he turned around.

Not even once, at any point during his musings, had Yo Han thought that the first thing he would feel was a sharp, painful pang of guilt.

The eyes meeting his — those soft doe-eyes, usually so bright and vibrant — were flat and empty. They looked too big on Ga On's face, too black and bottomless against the paleness of his skin. As if there was nothing but a gaping emptiness behind them.

There was no spark. No light.

Nothing.

The world seemed to shift, just a fraction, but still enough to make Yo Han's stomach drop. The curl of dread was paralyzing.

He'd always known he was fated to eventually smother that gentle, fragile light, but he hadn't expected it to happen like this.

Not this soon.

He wasn't ready for that loss yet. He honestly never would be.

And so, for once, Yo Han didn't know what to do — or even how to react. The longer he stood there, staring into those blank eyes, the more the guilt grew. He could feel it seeping into his veins, slowly taking hold.

It hurt to breathe.

A pain which didn't ease even when something finally did shift inside Ga On's eyes. Because what Yo Han saw wasn't life, excitement, or even hope, but the heart-wrenching hunger of a desperate, half-starved creature, so weak it was a miracle it could even function.

The emptiness in Ga On's eyes suddenly made sense.

He was empty. And Yo Han could see the hunger growing — the near-frantic need to fill that cold, hollow space. And he knew exactly what had caused it.

Exactly what Ga On needed in order to fill that void inside of him.

If Yo Han had wanted to make Ga On less dependent on him, he'd failed.

___

... I guess the short answer would be: "... oh fuck."?

Bear in mind that I currently have no plans (or time) to write another chapter from Yo Han's POV, but yeah. I hope you enjoy the snippets?

Also, to be entirely honest with you all, it fucking hurts to write Yo Han's POV, especially these emotional scenes x'D Like, I feel for Ga On when I write about him and his struggles, I definitely do. But Yo Han is too similar to me in how he deals with and processes emotions so I'm, like, in agony when I write stuff like this because I can relate to it too much.

So some of my stubbornness not to write his POV is honestly sheer self-preservation at this point x'D

#Amethystina Replies #Anonymous #Who Holds the Devil #The Gentle Light #The Devil Judge #Amethystina Writes #And it fucking hurts #Like #I cannot stress this enough #It might very well break me if I had to write certain scenes from Yo Han's POV #I COULD probably do it #But MAN #Would it hurt #Me most of all #But all of you as well #Though some of you are gluttons for punishment #So I know you probably won't be swayed by that argument xD

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zoeykallus · 3 years ago

Text

Arcane - Little Flower Part 4 – Before You Killed Me

Silco x female!reader

Warning: 18+

Violence/Blood/Near Death Experience/Drowning/Hurt/Strangulation/Pain/Drama/Brutality/Cursing

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Author's Comment:

Heads up, reader is going through hell in this chapter. Buckle up if you are ready or skip it if you are faint of heart.

A shitload of Drama ahead.

I don't know why, I just blame the music again, if it's making sense or not. On repeat while writing: Too Many Tears

------

What Happened Before:

Little Flower

Little Flower Part 2 - Safe And Sound

Little Flower Part 3 - Cupidos

Part 4 - Before You Killed Me

The time you spent with Silco was almost always determined by languid tenderness. Still, your heart raced every time his hand touched you, his gaze crossed yours, or he entered the room you were in. But by now you had seen more of him, more of things you perhaps should not have seen. Things you couldn't forget. The underlying skepticism and fear that had always been there was still present, not severe because you didn't have to fear his wrath, but unyielding.

By now you spent most nights with him, though often alone in his bed as he worked late into the night. Sometimes, though, you would wake up in the morning and he would be lying next to you, sometimes awake, one arm wrapped around you, watching you sleep. Sometimes asleep, lying across the bed any one or more of his limbs tangled somewhere in the covers with you.

You had even made friends with Sevika by now. Well, more or less. Somehow she liked you much more now than at the beginning. You didn't exactly have the same interests, but in a certain sense you respected each other. You admired her loyalty, her courage and her strength. You witnessed the latter from time to time, Silco rarely got his own hands dirty. There were only a few exceptions.

The small syndicate that produced Cupidos, he took into his own hands, personally. He even took you with him. You remembered the day very vividly... Silco had given you a mask, a filter mask, he was wearing one himself when he walked into the building and threw a grenade created by Jinx into the room. Poisonous gas had spread to every little corner of the room. People had gone down gasping, bloody foam coming out of their mouths as they died in great agony, eyes wide open. The images still haunted you sometimes in your sleep.

Yes, you had wanted Silco to take the matter in hand and put an end to Cupidos, but it was more than just an ugly thing to witnes it. He had taken you with him because he wanted to show you that he kept his promise. But seeing those people die had been terrible. You had watched everything, not daring to look away because he was watching you. A part of you was still afraid of him. Even if you loved him by now, and sometimes you doubted yourself because of that.

You were sitting with Jinx in her cave working on a plan for a fancy revolver you were going to give to Silco. The gun looked elegant and fierce. A long muzzle, a big barrel with 12 chambers, an elegant grip with filigree engravings. Anyway, when the weapon was finished, it was supposed to look awesome.

Silco's daughter and you had become close, were almost like sisters by now. Jinx had experienced one or more traumas at some point in her life that she had never been able to come to terms with, something had broken inside her and led to her strongly fluctuating behavior. But by now you had figured out how to deal with it. She often sought your closeness, your comfort and she let you calm her down when she had one of her outbursts again. Basically, Jinx just needed a lot of attention and someone who listened to her, responded to her and gave her the feeling that she was not alone with everything that was going on inside her. Silco loved her, but he manipulated her much more than he helped her. But you didn't think he really realized how much of the damage she had done over the years came from him. Their relationship was an emotional dependency that had unhealthy traits. But you'd be careful not to say a word along those lines to Silco.

"Here look," Jinx said delightedly, holding out the drawing to you.

She had completed the pattern on the handle, it looked like angel wings swinging around a skull.

"That's really impressive, Jinx," you admitted honestly.

Around the skull were delicate rose vines you had drawn.

With a proud grin, the girl said, "I'm sure he'll like that, it was a great idea, Y/N."

Yes it had been your idea. Silco didn't talk about his birthday, so you decided without further ado that you would just give him something anyway and let Jinx in on your plan. The girl had immediately been on fire for your idea with the revolver and you had gone straight to work, discussed how the dimensions should be, which ammunition you wanted to have made for it, which blacksmith you wanted to commission with the individual parts and so on. You had been with her since morning and by now it was almost evening.

"I should probably get back to Silco now, he'll probably be annoyed that I've been gone so long, he doesn't like it when he can't see me for too long," you sighed in surrender.

"Man, he shouldn't make such a fuss!" said Jinx, rolling her eyes.

You laughed softly.

"I might even get him out of that habit someday, who knows".

On the way back, you were already a little nervous. Silco tended to pepper you with questions when you were gone too long, he was a sceptical and jealous man with serious trust issues and you weren't sure how good you were at hiding the fact that you and Jinx had been working on a gift for him. You weren't very good at lying, it was basically uncomfortable for you, so you were pretty bad at it and Silco had a talent for seeing through people, you in particular.

However, when you walked into his office, he was sitting behind his desk, elbows on the table, hands folded and resting against his forehead.

"Hey, I'm back."

Silco looked up at you very slowly. Something he actually did a lot when he was angry or wanted to intimidate someone, slow predatory movements. You blinked nervously, sensing immediately that there was something lurking behind his behavior.

"You've been gone a long time," he said simply in his smooth way.

"Yes, Jinx and I have been working out plans."

After a few seconds he said, "I see."

Unsure of what to say or do, you decided to do what you had planned anyway.

"Is it okay if I take a bath?"

He nodded and finally stared into emptiness again. Something was up, but usually he was coming on to you and he didn't like being probed or pushed. He liked to be in control of everything- how things were handled and when he shared what information with whom, was part of it. You had never seen him angry with you before and you weren't going to, so you shut up and silently made your way to the bathroom.

You poured yourself some water, made yourself a bubble bath and lay down in the tub. With a relaxed sigh you closed your eyes, let the warmth creep into your muscles and bones and felt how you gradually felt more and more weightless.

When you heard footsteps, you opened your eyes and saw Silco approaching the tub. His facial expression seemed strangely stony. Worried, you looked up at him, frowning.

"Is everything all right?" you asked cautiously.

Wordlessly, Silco sat down on the side of the tub. He reached out an arm to you and his hand gently rested on your sternum, just below your neck, and let it rest there, bent over you. The touch was gentle, yet it sent a chill down your spine, despite the hot bath water.

The expression on his face, it wasn't just stony, there was more, but you didn't know how to describe it. Something dark, angry and at the same time sad, was hiding behind his sea green eye.

"What plans have you worked out with Jinx today?" he asked quietly.

You blinked nervously, again, and knew immediately that he realized you were about to lie. What he didn't know was that you were just trying to hide a birthday gift.

"You weren't with, Jinx, were you?"

His voice had taken on a rough undertone and his chest heaved up and down heavily with each breath.

"What? Yes I was!" you protested.

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" he suddenly exploded, making you wince.

"I'm not lying," you said very quietly.

He gritted his teeth and the next moment you found yourself underwater. Startled, you tried to come back up, but his hand on your sternum held you down. Panic rose in you. What had happened, why was he doing this to you!!! You swallowed water, your hands tried to pull yourself up at the edge of the tub, without success, Silco was stronger. Your fingers clawed at his arm, you managed to wriggle out from under the arm in the water and for a moment your head came above water.

Silco jumped into the tub, fully clothed, sat over you so that you could not escape from him again. Anger burned under his skin, anger and a deep sadness that caused him physical pain.

You coughed, clinging to his arms whose hands were around your neck. He didn't squeeze yet, didn't push you under either, just looked at you for the moment as you lay under him in the water your eyes widening, your lower lip quivering before a sob comes out of your mouth.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"You betrayed me," he growled.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, crying.

"You weren't with Jinx, you were at the docks! You were seen there, with the Firelights sabotaging one of my shipments!", his voice growled hoarsley.

You didn't have the faintest idea what he was talking about, before you could react, your head was under water again and Silco's hands were squeezing. Absolute panic flooded your mind, your fingers clawed into his dress shirt and tore the fabric apart.

There was only one thing that kept flashing through your mind, aside from the panic, the bottomless fear. Why? You had always known who he was, but still, fatally and naively, you had never expected him to do such a thing to you. You had done nothing wrong. Yet your head was under water, above you an angry Silco, with wet clothes, his hands around your neck, wet strands hanging down his forehead, a wild look on his face. For the first time you actually saw it, the monster.

The water that came through despite his stranglehold burned in your nose, your throat, your lungs, like liquid fire. The senseless fight for survival that your body waged without your conscious intervention lasted for what felt like eternities. Eternities full of fear and pain. At a certain point you wanted it to be over, it should stop, you couldn't bear it anymore. Suddenly your thoughts became fuzzy, your vision blurred, it no longer burned. You knew your eyes were open and yet it went dark. Finally.

"Everyone betrays me, everyone does at some point and now you did too..." he pressed out between clenched teeth.

A single tear rolled down his cheek. The pain was unbearable. He had trusted you, Silco had loved you, the more violent had been the shock when his informant told him what you had done. It ate him up inside within seconds, his reason dissolved into nothing.

Your resistance weakened. Your eyes were open, staring at him, blank yet reproachful. His arms and shoulders shook with tension and pain, there were scratches from your fingernails all over his arms, some were pretty deep and bleeding.

"What are you doing?!" he heard Sevika ask in horror.

He hadn't even noticed how she had come in. She had never dared to enter his private chambers before. Presumably she had heard something and had come to look and found this scene.

"She betrayed me..."

Sevika had never interfered or contradicted her boss before, but here and now, she grabbed his shoulder and hastily pulled him away from your motionless body.

She lifted you out of the tub with ease, as if you were just a doll.

"Fuck!" she cursed "Why did you do that?"

"She was at the docks this afternoon, with the Firelights, when our Shimmer delivery was sabotaged, Ronon saw her," he explained in a breaking voice, watching Sevika check for your pulse.

"Have you lost your mind!!! She was with Jinx all day, I was keeping an eye on both of them like you told me to! Why didn't you talk to me first!!!"

Silco felt the world suddenly spin around him faster, he felt sick and his chest seemed to tighten.

"That can't be... he saw her... he was sure of it," he muttered, staring at your motionless body.

Sevika began to perform CPR and mouth to mouth resuscitation like she had seen on the docks before.

"Come on girl," she pressed out between ventilations "Breathe!"

Silco climbed out of the tub on wobbly legs and slumped down next to you and Sevika, leaving a trail of water, everything was wet.

"What have I done...?"

"You've lost it," Sevika grumbled "You snapped and acted without reason, that's what happened"

You just lay there and didn't move, didn't breathe, your eyes stared into eternal nothingness and ice-cold fear seized Silco, dragging him with it into an abyss without light.

"I didn't mean to do it..."

Sevika shot him a somber look, "Then why did you? I thought you loved her"

"...I do"

The next moment your body reared up, coughing. Sevika hastily turned you on your side so you could cough the water out of your lungs. She reached for a towel and placed it over your naked body.

Silco was still sitting there, slumped over, not daring to touch you. He stared at his hands then back at you. Those hands had killed you, the woman he loved, in blind rage, how could he ever let those hands touch you again?

Your body was trembling, but your eyes were closed, you were not quite yourself yet.

Sevika carefully wrapped you in the towel, lifted you up and carried you into the bedroom, where she laid you on the bed and covered you with a blanket.

"I don't know if she'll wake up again, but she's alive," she said to Silco who had silently followed her.

He suddenly felt very helpless for the first time in a long time and it scared him.

"Bring me Ronon," he said somberly.

When Sevika went to get Ronon, that snake, Silco changed into dry clothes. Just as he was closing the last button of his vest with trembling fingers, he heard a groan from you.

"Y/N? Little Flower, are you awake?" he asked softly and quietly, climbing onto the bed with you.

Another moan, finally your eyes opened fluttering open. When you saw his face above you, your eyes went wide. You wanted to scream, but from your throat came only a hoarse croak.

"I'm sorry, it's okay, don't panic...", he spoke to you.

You crawled away from him in panic, your heart running marathons.

Wrapping the covers around you, you struggled out of bed to get as far away from him as possible. You felt dizzy and almost fell, but managed to grab a bedpost. Silco got off the bed and approached you, wanting to help you, but when your head jerked in his direction and you looked at him with a look that resembled a cornered, injured animal, he stopped.

"I'm so sorry," he spoke softly.

"I don't care," you said, your voice hoarse and almost unintelligible.

Your hand went to your neck, feeling over the now dark marks where his hands had choked you. You wished so much for all of this not to be real, just a bad dream, but you knew it was real.

He lowered his head and looked at you like a beaten dog.

Very quietly he said, "That's not true."

"Yes it is, I want to get out of here!"

He gritted his teeth. It was understandable that you were scared and angry, you had every right to be, but this knowledge did not make the situation any easier for him.

Gently he asked you, "Where do you want to go? You don't have anywhere else to stay?"

"I don't care, I just want to get away from you!" you pressed out between quivering lips while tears streamed down your face.

It was not only your throat that hurt, it was everything, your whole existence hurt.

There was a long pause of silence in which you looked at each other, both full of pain and fear. But finally Silco took the floor again.

"Please don't go, little flower," he spoke in an husked voice.

"Where are my clothes?" you asked bitterly, ignoring his request.

"In the... In the bathroom, I think"

The next steps happened as if by themselves, your perception was still fuzzy and your overwhelmed mind blanked out a lot, among other things any sense of time and also some of the words Silco addressed to you. But you got the overall tenor. He was afraid to lose you, he didn't want you to leave.

"You should have thought about that before you killed me," you said flatly as you finally got dressed and walked past him out of the bedroom.

Only a moment later, he heard the door to his office open and slam back into the lock.

You didn't know where to go, first of all you wanted to get away from Silco. You had to sort yourself out, think, come to rest, plan next steps. But as soon as you reached a calm place, you sank wearily to your knees, breathing heavily and fighting another crying fit. Everything in you seemed to be on fire, your chest, your throat, your eyes, everything. You forced yourself to breathe deeply to calm down, but the next moment you were shaken by sobs again.

Sevika showed up at Silco's shortly after you left, with Ronon. Handcuffed, the stocky man with the red curls knelt in front of Silco. There was an icy silence, only Ronon's nervous breathing could be heard.

"You lied to me. I don't know why, but honestly I don't care. Y/N wasn't at the docks like you said," Silco finally addressed the man kneeling on the ground.

Ronon said nothing, he knew it didn't matter, he knew he was dead, now he could only hope it would be quick. But Silco would not do him that favor.

Silco walked up and down, Sevika as well as Ronon were silent, no one dared to say anything.

He was thinking about all sorts of things. He had never been a particularly accessible or loving person. The life he had lived up to that point had simply never allowed it. He himself had never experienced affection until you came into his life. Even if it had been rather bumpy in the beginning and he expressed his affection mainly physically, it was still there. It was something special, something he deeply appreciated. Today that had almost been taken away from him.

In his mind's eye he saw you under him in the water, his hands closed around your neck. How could he ever forget that image? How could he ever make you forgive him? How could he ever forgive himself? Quite abruptly, he threw a punch, hitting Ronon in the head and knocking him over. The man remained lying, not daring to get up.

Hot anger burned in Silco, consuming his every thought. He thought of what Vander had done back then, and the irony was biting. He had done to the only person he really cared about, aside from Jinx, what Vander had done to him.

Silco kicked, hitting Ronon square in the face with the heel of his boot, hearing his nose break and the man groan in pain.

Again and again images of you flared up in his mind, with each image he kicked. Teeth broke, cheekbones.

Ronon choked on his own blood, coughing and whimpering through broken jaw and teeth, "Please, have mercy."

"Sorry, all out of mercy," Silco growled, stomping on his face again and again and again.

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tennessoui · 3 years ago

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Pleaseeee do 43 or 46. I love your work btw

(insert months late panicked noises about how I thought 45 was 'falling in love with best friend's partner' and so wrote hold me fast for it, but actually 43 is 'falling in love with best friend's partner' very whoops very my b)

so i did 43 again anyway, but in a modern au and where the couple is actually in love (but it is an obikin happy ending because kit did write it)

(wife is unnamed the entire time so no character bashing it could literally be anyone ive been calling her rebecca in my head lmao)

43. Falling In Love With Best Friend's Partner (2.7k.......)

Obi-Wan’s kettle goes off with a whistle right as there’s a fierce banging on the door. He almost drops his favorite mug in surprise, which puts him in a bad mood from the get-go. But for the love of Christ, who would come call at his house at nine at night? It’s more than rude; it’s downright indecent.

He stalks through the house until he can unlock the door to give the person on his porch a piece of his mind, but then he sees who it is.

It’s Anakin, and he’s crying.

If there’s anything that can make Obi-Wan quiet his temper on a normal day, it’s Anakin Skywalker. A distressed Anakin Skywalker brings out every ounce of his compassion.

“Anakin?” He asks immediately, stepping forward to touch the man on his arm gently and guide him inside. He doesn’t even have to suppress a sigh when Anakin doesn’t remember to toe off his shoes in the entry way--that’s how worried he is at Anakin’s tears and the way they only increase in frequency and sound when Obi-Wan moves his hand to his back and pushes him further into his house, all the way to the dining table where he urges him to sit down.

Anakin still hasn’t said anything resembling actual words yet, so Obi-Wan goes to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. It’s either that or give into the temptation to thumb the tear tracks off of his cheeks and that’s a little more revealing than Obi-Wan likes.

He’s not that brave, for one.

For another, Anakin is a married man. A man married to one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends, a previous grad student turned co-author of at least seven publications, with more on the way. He can’t risk tenderly wiping away her husband’s tears because Obi-Wan Kenobi has been at least a little in love with him since they were introduced four years ago, when he’d swanned up to him holding two champagne glasses in one hand and stuck out the other to shake. “My wife talks about you nonstop, Professor,” he’d said. “I used to be so jealous until I sat in on one of your lectures when I was still in school. Made sense then.”

Obi-Wan had not known what to do with that, but had taken the proffered champagne glass and assured this strange man he had nothing to worry about.

After all, Obi-Wan wasn’t the sort of man to chase after former students or people in marriages.

Over the next few years, however, it became quite clear to him that there was a big addendum needed in his moral code: people in marriages to former students drew his eyes apparently the way no one else has ever managed to in his life.

Or perhaps it was just Anakin. Perhaps it’s always been just Anakin.

Coming to terms with the shameful, quiet love he carried for a man who flirts like it’s second nature and always has a warm touch or word to bestow on Obi-Wan had been difficult, to say the least.

Anakin’s wife had been one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends. His inconvenient and persistent feelings for Anakin had turned her into one thing only: his wife. They could not be friends when Obi-Wan spends half his nights wondering what it would be like to sleep with his arms around her husband. They could not be friends when the last dozen times the married couple had invited him over for dinner, he had paid more attention to her husband than to the food or to the other topics of conversation or to her.

And she has to know. She has to know why their latest paper has taken eight months to write. She has to have seen the way Obi-Wan perks up so obviously when Anakin brings his wife her lunch, the way he has to turn away from their chaste kisses, the way he listens keenly to any information she gives him on her husband, the way he had excused himself from the room when he heard her tell another colleague that they were trying for children.

In academia, you learn fairly quickly that it is useless to resent someone for having what you do not. It seems that Obi-Wan has to learn this lesson all over again when it comes to people. It’s hard. It’s selfish. He hates that he loves Anakin. He hates that he loves Anakin the way he does, that it’s been four years and he still loves him, that not even his happy marriage, his love for his wife, the fact that his wife is Obi-Wan’s friend, can change it.

Anakin considers them friends now, which is so much worse and yet still more than a pathetic old man like Obi-Wan deserves. Worse, because when Obi-Wan had started rejecting dinners at the Skywalker household, Anakin had pushed back with worry. When he’d noticed that Obi-Wan’s lunch most often consisted of whatever cold cut sandwich was on sale at the gas station next to campus, he’d started bringing Obi-Wan a lunch along with his wife. When Obi-Wan had stopped responding to his texts, he showed up to drag him to a night out.

Worse, because being Anakin’s friend is nothing like being his husband, and the differences make him ache as much as the acts of kindness make him want to weep.

It’s still more than Obi-Wan deserves. He knows that intimately, the way he knows that nothing can ever happen between the two of them because Anakin loves his wife. And his wife--

“She cheated on me,” Anakin gets out between uneven breaths.

Obi-Wan promptly drops his favorite mug and watches it shatter on the floor.

“Oh!” Anakin exclaims at the loud noise, peeking around the corner, and looking like he’s about to offer to help. Obi-Wan shoos him out of the kitchen, and grabs the remaining mug of tea to follow him. The mess can wait for a later time.

“What did you say?” he asks carefully, nudging the mug over to Anakin, who wraps his hands around it.

Anakin blinks up at him wetly. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Obi-Wan drags his chair closer and dares to lay a hand over Anakin’s arm, watching his face for any negative reaction. Anakin just looks at it though, as if he can’t even comprehend it.

“Please, tell me what happened,” he entreats softly.

Anakin blinks and takes a sip of the tea. It’s chamomile, which is the only tea blend Obi-Wan knows Anakin likes.

“I, um.” Anakin clears his throat and reaches up to wipe at his eyes. Obi-Wan thinks his breath leaves his body for a second when he sees the slighter lighter ring of skin around Anakin’s fourth finger. He never thought he’d see what that sliver of skin looks like.

“I came back early from a work trip, cause. Um. Cause we’ve been having problems,” he starts with a quick side glance at Obi-Wan. “Just some fighting. Going to bed angry. I guess stuff you’re never supposed to do.”

Obi-Wan tries to arrange his face in an expression meant to convey that he definitely knows what stuff one is supposed to do in a marriage.

“So I thought I could, you know. Surprise her. But when I got in, there was someone else in the house. In our bed, Obi-Wan, she fucked someone else in our bed. I--” Anakin starts crying dropping his head into his hands and dislodging Obi-Wan’s arm completely.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmurs, at a loss for what to say. He settles for kneeling down next to Anakin and rubbing his knee. This is platonic.This is fine. This isn’t taking advantage of Anakin in this state.

Obi-Wan has absolutely no desire to take advantage of Anakin in this state, not when he’s so hurt and sad and in need of comfort. Obi-Wan just wants to provide him with comfort, but it feels like a grievous violation to touch Anakin like this willingly. It breaks one of his most cardinal rules.

But it turns out he’d break a lot of rules for Anakin, apparently.

Especially when Anakin responds so well to his touch, practically throwing himself out of his own chair and into Obi-Wan’s arms, tea forgotten on the table.

“How am I supposed to go back there?” He sobs into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I thought...we were supposed to raise kids in that house and she...she’s been...she’s been cheating on me in our bed--”

Obi-Wan tentatively strokes through his hair, adding pressure when Anakin reacts positively. He hates seeing him like this, so torn up and aching. He’d loved his wife, it’s so clear to see.

But Anakin has always struck Obi-Wan as the sort of person to put loyalty over everything else. For his wife to break his trust so suddenly and quickly must spell the death of his love for her. That must be what Obi-Wan is witnessing now, with Anakin, sans wedding ring, sobbing into his arms like this. This must be how Anakin’s love dies.

“I’m so sorry, Anakin,” he murmurs into the man’s temple, pressing his nose there at his hairline and inhaling as softly as he can. He’s disgusted with himself. He can’t help himself. He--

“She said she loved him,” Anakin sniffles, seemingly unaware of anything but his own pain. Obi-Wan gathers him closer at these words and rubs at his back, offering silent comfort. To have Anakin close like this is agony, but to be an appropriate distance away from him as he fell apart would also be agony of a different sort.

And if the last four years have proven anything, Obi-Wan will choose the agony that causes Anakin any modicum of happiness he can give him.

“She said--” here Anakin pauses and takes several deep breaths against the cotton of Obi-Wan’s now damp sleepshirt. “She said she didn’t when they started, but then I--I didn’t notice and it--she said it just happened, but--”

He breaks off and freezes in Obi-Wan’s arms quite suddenly. Obi-Wan stills his own hands in response. “But?” he asks, barely more than an exhale.

“But she said she couldn’t feel sorry about it,” Anakin whispers back, pulling away so that he can look at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan stares at him, uncomprehending. Anakin’s wife is the unapologetic sort of woman, yes, but to be caught cheating on her husband and then refuse to apologize for the betrayal? That’s something else entirely. “What?” he stutters out in a completely unflattering way.

Anakin’s eyes glisten, but he purses his lips and flexes his jaw before he speaks again. “She said she couldn’t feel sorry about falling in love with someone else because it’s quite clear I’ve done the same thing. And--and she may have physically cheated on me first, but I’ve...I’ve been emotionally unfaithful to her for years now.”

Obi-Wan blinks quite a bit and very fast, tightening his hold on Anakin before pulling away just as quickly. “That’s absurd,” he spits out, trying to calm his rushing heartbeat. “Anakin, you’re the most loyal person I know. You would never--”

“She was right,” Anakin cuts him off, breaking eye contact with him to look over his shoulder and then down at...at his lips. “I didn’t even realize she was right until she said it, but. But I’ve been in love with someone else for three years of my five year marriage. I--I’m not who we thought I was.”

And his eyes well up with tears again and Obi-Wan isn’t strong enough this time from stopping himself from reaching out and brushing one of his tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Anakin, you’re not…” thinking straight, serious, in your right mind, in love with anyone but your wife. “You’re hurting, Anakin,” he settles on saying. “You need to...sleep. To rest.”

You need to stop saying things that will break my heart in a few days when you realize you don’t actually mean them.

But Anakin has always been stubborn, especially when it comes to Obi-Wan’s demands. “Obi-Wan,” he insists, shoving his face forward so that their heads connect with a thump. “Obi-Wan, it’s you. It’s been you. For. For longer than I knew. For three years at least. Maybe longer. It should have been you from the beginning. When--”

“Anakin, please,” he finds himself begging, scrambling up and off the floor and away from this troublesome man. “Do not say anything you cannot take back. You are in distress, you’re not thinking clearly.”

Anakin follows him to his feet. “I need to say this,” he says, voice breaking. “Please, Obi-Wan. Let me say this.”

Obi-Wan has never known how to say no to Anakin. He closes his mouth instead.

“Before we even started dating, that’s when I sat in on your lecture. When we were seniors. I just wanted to see. Wanted to know why she liked you so much, measure up my competition. But then I liked you, more than I’ve ever liked a guy before. And it only got worse after I met you again, at that party, I don’t know if you remember, but. The days after, I drove my wife insane asking questions about you and your work and your interests and your hobbies, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

“You were just...you were so amazing. But I loved her so much I didn’t even notice I had any love left in my heart to give to anyone else, but then there you were. There you were and every time I saw you it was like...coming up for air. Like I was living someone else’s life and then sometimes I just got to be myself and it was only ever when you were around and--I didn’t know it was love until my wife told me tonight that she fucked another man because she couldn’t stand that I fell in love with one first, and I knew immediately who she was talking about. It was you. It’s...Obi-Wan, it’s always been you.”

Anakin closes the distance between them slowly, as if he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to run. Obi-Wan does consider it, he won’t lie, but he stands stock still as if frozen to the ground. Anakin reaches up gently and wipes at one of his tears. Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized he started crying.

“Please don’t cry,” Anakin whispers through his tears. “I understand if you--if you don’t feel the same way, but I couldn’t be quiet about it once I realized. I don’t know how to love quietly.”

Obi-Wan does. Obi-Wan’s spent four years loving Anakin quietly, and now he doesn’t have any words left in him to love him out loud.

Anakin’s hand falls away from his face at his continued silence and he looks, if possible, more heartbroken. “I...I understand,” he murmurs. “You don’t feel the way I do. I--yes. I get it. I...deserve it.”

At this, Obi-Wan has to say something because it’s been one of the tenets of his world for years now that Anakin Skywalker deserves all the love there is in the entire universe. “No,” he says roughly, dragging the words kicking and screaming from the pit of his stomach. “It’s not that. It’s--”

Anakin looks at him with wide, wet, blue eyes.

“It’s that if you...if I say it and then...tomorrow you decide you don’t mean it...darling you have to know there would be no recovering from that, for me. I’ve been so obvious.”

Anakin blinks as the words register in his brain, and Obi-Wan can tell the exact moment they do because he inches closer and clutches tightly onto his shirt. “You’ve not been obvious at all,” he murmurs, eyes still shining, even as he directs his entire attention to his lips.

“What would I need to do?” Obi-Wan breathes, aching to wrap his arms around his waist and terrified that doing so will startle Anakin away from him. “What would I need to do for you to understand how much I...how much I’ve loved you for all these years?”

“Kiss me,” Anakin whispers, leaning down as if drawn by some magnetic pull.

Obi-Wan knows he will hate himself in the morning for giving in when Anakin is so obviously grief-stricken and looking for no-strings-attached physical comfort. And yet, he meets him halfway anyway.

#asks #prompt fill #lets be real these havent been ficlets for months let alone snippets #these are just. fics lmao #anyway i couldnt choose who to hurt/comfort with this prompt so ii actually went with both haha #very on brand #anakin's pov would of course contain the famous 'oh. OH.' of realization #obikin #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #i have so many amazing asks to respond to and im going to do it tonight #i just wanted to post this and then spend like a solid eight hours on my paintings because they have a really real and fast approaching #deadline #cw: cheating #married with a twist au

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my-mt-heart · 3 years ago

Note

Hi again! Do you remember me still? I left a couple of reviews before for Diverged and Find Me. Thank you for all that you do on here. I read your review, and wanted to show my support again. My only disclaimer is that I cannot catch everything but these are my thoughts. Here you go.

1. First up, the laughable theory that Leah would be coming back with Daryl's child has been permanently debunked. It seems like no one can pass gas in peace without the Pope sanctioning it, so pushing out a whole baby is out of the question. :P

1b. On a serious note, however. It seems that Leah prefers and values a family that wars together, a family she can "create" over a family she is related to by blood. This is like Carol and Daryl. But darkly inverted.

2. It was not lost on me that Leah and Daryl's first meeting and reunion was mediated by Dog. But you know what I caught, as well? This is interesting. You do not see Leah interacting verbally with Dog at all. There's nothing. And Dog is very obedient, with no character at all. I have a hunch that this is set up that way on purpose. Because when Carol is introduced to Leah (and trust me, I feel she will be) we are going to see a very animated Dog. That bonding with Carol in Diverged was not there just for filler or giggles. Pay attention to all of the scenes. With Dog. Daryl, most importantly. With what outsiders in Leah's group are making of Daryl and Leah's relationship and sex life. It is setting the stage for Carol to appear.

2b. On a lighter note, Dog is totally a ladies dog. Because if Leah was named Leon instead and was a man, Dog would still be with Daryl. I am sticking with that theory. And I'm not sorry. :P

3. Carol's absence. Seriously. Think about it. In Find Me, there were constant comparisons in the scenes between Leah and Carol. But there is none in this episode. That is not lazy writing. The reason Carol is contextually absent in this episode, is because there is nothing in Daryl's mind about Carol to relate Leah to. Not only is she not the Leah we saw in Find Me, but she is NOTHING like Carol in Daryl's mind. He knows Carol is loyal, fierce, and a warrior. She would do anything for her family. But she is not cultish and ruthless, unlike Leah, who is.

4. Did we notice that Daryl and Leah got a chance to speak a few times this episode, a couple times they spoke about them, their relationship? I. LOVE. THIS! Why, oh why, you may ask? Because, it is the exact opposite problem Carol and Daryl are having right now! They aren't taking about THEM. EACH OTHER. Their RELATIONSHIP. The fact that they show Daryl and Leah speaking openly about it, with her group making jerkface comments about it, juxtapose to Daryl and Carol always speaking privately about their relationship and everyone just knowing and honoring the bond Caryl share afar off, shows that strength of the Caryl relationship and its superiority over the Daryl/Leah one. Again, the fact that they can speak openly shows communication was never their issue. And that their relationship was not really special. But something about the Caryl dynamic seems very sacred and a space just for the two of them. And to put it more simply, communication is an issue for Daryl with Carol unlike with Leah because his feelings for Carol run far deeper.

5. Pope mockingly talks about Leah having a "fishing expedition" with Daryl. Interesting word choice, methinks. Because 'expedition' conjures up images of exploration, don't you think? Which is in the future for Caryl via the spinoff. But when Pope uses it in reference to Daryl and Leah, I understand that the technical definition of expedition is exploration for the purposes of war or research. Which means...that sort of confines Leah to this category where Pope is basically telling her that her feelings for Daryl are really serving their family. It isn't of her own doing. Hmm. But Carol chooses to love Daryl and her feelings for him are as boundless and borderless as whatever exploration they undertake.

6. Pope seems to think because he is "chosen" that also makes him a prophet, apparently. That comment about Daryl's true motives wanting to be intimate with Leah shows he knows no more than the rest of his people and he clearly doesn't know Daryl. Because, sure, that's what he would be thinking about, knowing that Maggie and her people are in danger, he is trying to get some. 🙄 but if they misread Daryl's feelings, that works for me. I think Daryl would want to be misinterpreted in these circumstances if it camouflages him a bit.

6b. Do not want him having to have a trial of being intimate with Leah to prove anything, though. Unlikely. But because Pope is willing to set other people on fire, I cannot honestly say it would beneath him since...well, that is my next point.

7. *Sigh* I will start this off by saying, the next statements I write are for educational purposes only. I am not making any claims to spark a debate on religion and its factions. These are just my findings and how I believe they shade in Pope's character more. (1) First, the dark lighting, the candle lit rooms that do not look romantic or homey in the slightest, the jargon their group uses, Pope speaking in riddles like he's received some divine enlightenment that makes him judge Jury and executioner, and their rituals come across as positively cultish. Cult movements characteristically strip its members of their individuality and brainwash them into believing that they are special for all the wrong reasons. This repeated indoctrination allows them to commit merciless and ruthless crimes. Their understanding of love and devotion is warped. It is strange to me that God, Jesus and other figures from the Bible are at the focal point, since the early movements of Christianity were movements of brotherly love, servitude in love, self-sacrifice and a nonviolent approach to the problems of a corrupt society. But here, Pope thinks that he is ordained to put someone else's life on the line (Leah) or take another's life (Ossie/Aussie his name was?) To judge if another is worthy or chosen/validated? This is abusive. And I can see him abusing his authority in making Leah throw herself at Daryl or testing Daryl with it (particularly when Carol comes into play) regardless of it being likely or not. Their view on sex seems to be a war tactic, as well.

8. It is interesting that Pope loves the "forging/trial by fire". It has a Biblical feel to it, and I can see the parallel in the prophetic ending of the world by fire, and those making it through the fire are the chosen ones, which Pope seems to echo. If that is the case...Carol and Daryl coming through this and venturing out on their own into the world (totally new and unseen to them) makes them a post apocalyptic Adam & Eve, doesn't it?

9. Sadly, cults and gangs have one thing in common: you can't ever really freely leave. Getting killed typically is the only way out. Which to me...foreshadows Leah's demise. I could be wrong. But that is what I am picking up. When Pope says that you "never leave your brother in a fire" that seems to be indicative of something pertaining to someone in that group. Daryl and Leah can't ever really be brother and sister since it is established their relationship was categorized as romantic at one point, and Leah reiterated that in the episode. However, she is a sister to the rest of them there (and a 'beloved' daughter of Pope. That will be tested. And I think she will fail. And then will be scorned when she learns that Daryl did indeed lie to her -and by omission- since I am willing to bet she does not know about Carol. At. All. Leah is going to crash and burn after that.

10. Bonus notes: the abuse Daryl is put through in this episode makes me miserable. I am sick of him being handled roughly, and put in a cage. Carol would never subject her family and loved ones to that, not even putting on an act.

11. I love how when Daryl and Leah meet again, there is literally no hug. I mean, it reminded me of the No Sanctuary/Terminus Reunion. In the woods. Daryl escapes the people out to get him. Leah appears out of nowhere. Just like Carol, Daryl thought he would never see Leah again. Emotions are heightened. Aaaaaannnndddd....no hug. LOL! That is a big clue right there.

12. When Leah says "you're filthy" to Daryl...like, yeah. That's his M.O. Duh. That is not new. Now if she looked at him and said "you're clean" THEN I'd be concerned.

13. Daryl sounding like his earlier season self in this episode gave me feels! 😍

14. Leah saying that they "wouldn't have worked out, not in this world." It is not because of the lives they lead, really. It is because Carol happens to BE in this world.

15. This interpretation of fire in this episode is perfect for Carol's kind of fire and what that represents in her life. She is the Phoenix of TWD.

16. BONUS: Also, the way the Pope talks about trial by fire is so different than the way the original team family experienced it. They relied on each other. Rick never sacrificed his people as the leader. He sought a cooperative effort from his family and prioritized their strengths and they fought through the world together. Daryl knows where he belongs.

17. Lastly, when Leah said that "her family found her. They never stopped looking for her." Ouch! But on a positive note, I hear Carol's lovely voice telling Daryl "until you found me." Daryl never found Leah because he was never meant to. He found Carol because she was his to find and they belong together.

Hope my review was okay!

I do remember, and thanks for taking the time to submit your own review. Some interesting observations here, particularly about all the religious ties. Don't be a stranger!

#caryl #twd #twd spoilers #twd review #twd rendition

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today-only-happens-once · 3 years ago

Text

missing from here, missing from me

Fic title: missing from here, missing from me

word count: 3347

summary: Alberto goes missing. Luca manages as best he can, which is not very well at all. Alberto/Luca, Luca and Giulia as close friends, and some dad!Massimo angst in the background.

warnings: angst with a happy ending, crying, tension in friendships and family dynamics at times, missing person, mentions of/allusions to experimentation, reckless decision making. Please let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: First time writing for Luca and it’s an absolute angst fest. Would love to know what you think! Played with structure and style here too, so I hope you enjoy it! <3

Luca knows before Giulia’s mother has hung up the phone that something is very wrong. Alberto is the first thought in his head, and it’s the one that does not let go.

He stands up so fast that he knocks back the chair he’d been sitting in as Giulia’s mother gasps. It clatters against the wooden floor and he should probably pick it up but his feet are rooted to the ground and his hands cannot let go of the edge of the table. Giulia says something, but she sounds like she’s in a faraway tunnel. Her touch on his arm is the only thing that keeps Luca from bolting out the door.

Giulia’s mother says little. “How long ago?” she asks into the reciever, followed by a “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Luca’s stomach has a lead weight as Giulia’s mother turns brown eyes onto her daughter, and then to Luca.

“It’s Alberto,” she confirms. “He’s missing.”

The train ride is long. The Italian countryside passes by in a rush of greens and blues and grays. Luca looks out the window and thinks that it would be more beautiful if he was on a Vespa, with Alberto’s chest vibrating beneath his arms as he shouts with eurphoria.

Missing.

Alberto has been missing for 13 hours and Luca feels like there’s a part of him that’s missing too.

His own mother and father, in their human forms, are there at the Marcovaldos’ place when Luca opens the door. Giulia runs straight into her father’s embrace, pressing her tear-stained face to his broad shoulders. His rumbling voice offers words of reassurance that Luca doesn’t hear.

Luca stands in the doorway and feels lost.

His mother takes a step towards him, says his name. Luca cannot bring himself to move.

“Where is Alberto?”

The police had already come, Giulia’s father explains as the adults drink coffee and Giulia drinks water and Luca tries not to throw up. What if he’s dead? Luca thinks and then immediately: Silenzio, Bruno.

There’s a crease between Signor Marcovaldo’s thick brows and a hunch to his shoulders. He is gripping his mug of coffee so tightly Luca wonders briefly it if might break apart in his hand.

“We’ll find him,” Luca’s father says. Luca opens his mouth to respond when he realizes that his father is looking at Signor Marcovaldo. That the words of reassurance were not meant for his son, but for the other father in the room.

Giulia’s dad sets his cup on the table in front of him and walks out of the room without responding. Luca sees the way he about to slam the door before he stops it, and closes it softly.

His parents offer to take him home. Luca uses as few words as possible to explain that he would rather stay here. In case there’s news. Luca expects a fight that is parents don’t give him.

His mother hugs him extra long before they leave. Luca returns it, if only because he knows it will help his mom feel better.

They promise to come back in the morning. Luca nods. He bites his tongue from asking them to stay, too. What if they disappear like Alberto?

Giulia is quiet that night. Luca sleeps out on the hideout and tries not to feel like the weight of Alberto’s absence will send him tumbling through the floor and crashing to the ground. Giulia leaves the window open and for that, Luca is grateful.

“Luca?”

“Hm?”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

“Do you think Alberto… ran away?”

“No.”

“I’m scared for him.”

Luca knows that he should offer some words of reassurance. That’s what friends do. But he cannot speak past the hardening lump in his throat and he stares at the lights above him that Alberto once insisted were anchovies and can feel his chest pulse with an ache he cannot name.

Alberto was always the one to quiet the fear inside of him. Silenzio, Bruno, Luca thinks fiercely, and swallows when he realizes that voice sounds an awful lot like Alberto.

Luca smooths his hand over the poster to adhere it to the wall. His hand does not linger no matter how much he wants it to. Neither does his gaze. If he does either for too long, he will begin to cry.

“C’mon,” Luca tells Giulia when he can feel her worried stare boring into the side of his face. “We have more posters to hang up.”

“Hey,” she says, putting her hand on his shoulder.

He shrugs out from under her grip. “I’m fine.”

He knows that he is a terrible liar. He knows that Giulia can read him better than anyone. He waits for Giulia to call him out on it, unsure of what he will say in response.

She says nothing. She can, after all, read him better than anyone. So she hands him the next poster, and they get back to work.

I’m gonna fix this. That was his promise to Alberto a year ago. He wants that to be his promise now. He wants to say it—wants to scream it—wants it to be true.

Luca doesn’t know if he can. He thinks of the clock at the bottom of the ocean and wonders if it is still counting the seconds. Luca is.

He makes it to noon before he cries.

Signor Marcovaldo starts to make Trenette al Pesto and stops halfway through. Luca watches from the dining room table as his parents and Giulia’s mother have a hushed conversation in the next room over. Signor Marcovaldo’s hand wavers as he reaches for the garlic cloves, then drops to his side.

“Perhaps we should… order something instead,” he says.

“Papa—”

He leaves. Giulia sighs. When she starts chopping the garlic, Luca busies himself by draining the pasta. He pretends he doesn’t see Giulia wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her striped shirt, and he decides to return her watery smile.

“Maybe he ran away,” the police say the next day. Early afternoon sun filters through the open windows, the salty ocean air tickling Luca’s nose.

“He didn’t,” Luca interrupts. He has spent most of his life not knowing things, but he knows this. Alberto didn’t run away.

“Sweetheart,” his mom begins, and Luca’s stomach rolls. He steps back when she reaches for him.

“He didn’t.”

“I know he’s your friend, kid,” one of the officers tells him, “but we found plans and maps at that island you said he used to spend his free time at.”

“That’s different,” Luca says, his throat tightening. “That was before. He wouldn’t run away! The life he has here is important to him. I know it.”

“Luca—”

“No! I know Alberto! He didn’t just run away.” Luca can feel his heartbeat pounding in against his ribs, like it wants to break free of his confines of his chest. As desperate to reach Alberto as the rest of him is. Luca’s eyes flit over the room to settle squarely on Signor Marcovaldo, who stands in the corner and stares at the floor.

“He wouldn’t abandon the people he loves,” Luca insists.

Signor Marcovaldo’s gaze rises and steadfastly meet’s Luca’s own. “And we won’t abandon him.”

“You’re going to collapse if you keep going like this,” Giulia tells him quietly the afternoon of the following day, in the middle of the town square. Luca can feel the rain against his scales and dripping off his fins.

“I’m fine.”

“Luca, you’re not yourself—”

“What do you want from me, Guilia?” Luca snaps. “I’m trying to find Alberto, and I don’t know where to look, and I don’t know who took him or why and I can’t sleep at night because I don’t know that he’s safe and I never got to tell him—”

Luca’s voice fails him when Guilia grabs him and pulls him into a hug. She doesn’t let go for a long time. And when she feels Luca’s shoulders jerk with an aborted sob, she just squeezes tighter.

Luca sleeps for a few hours the third night. He wakes up when the door opens and Signor Marcovaldo’s broad frame is silhouetted against the light form inside the house. He is wearing his hat and has a lamp in his hand. Luca slides down the ladder and calls out to him.

“Luca. You should be asleep.”

“Are you going to look for Alberto?”

There’s a beat, and Luca wonders if he’s going to lie to him. “Yes.”

“I want to come with you.”

“It is late—”

“Please, Signor.”

Luca looks up at him. He can sense, more than see, the way Signor Marcovaldo looks at him. Close and studying, as if trying to parcel something out. Whatever it is, he seems to find it, as he looks in the direction of the town, and then back.

“Alberto cares very much for you, Luca.”

Luca’s heart stutters a little. His lungs squeeze. “And I for him, sir.”

A heavy hand lands in his hair and ruffles it. “I know. Come. Walk with me.”

Luca had learned much in his year at school. He learned about stars, and spelling, and addition.

He did not learn how to deal with this.

He did not learn how to count the hours when the days bleed into sleepless nights and time itself starts to lose meaning. He did not learn how to stop counting the minutes, as if counting to sixty a million times will stave off the way his vision blurs on the edges if he stands in one place for too long.

Luca throws a tarp over the rusting Vespa and wishes that the hole in his heart could be covered as easily.

When Luca becomes too exhausted, he sleeps. When he sleeps, he dreams of Alberto.

The dreams are a patchwork quilt in memories. Alberto’s sun-warmed shoulder brushing against Luca’s, the teasing quirk of his eyebrow, the stretch of his spine when he planned to put himself firmly in the way of danger. Then the echo of take me, gravity as he disappears down the edge of a cliff to dive into the water below.

Luca follows, every time.

Alberto disappears.

Every.

Time.

Luca stares at the anchovies (stars, he knows, hot balls of gas lightyears away from here but Alberto is not here and Luca wants to hold on to the parts of Alberto that he can with both hands) when he hears the phone ring.

Signor Marcovaldo picks up on the first ring. Luca realizes he must have been waiting. He wonders how many nights he spent at the kitchen table, also unable to sleep. Luca glances at the still-open window to Giulia’s room, sees her light immediately click on, and wonders if maybe nobody in this house has slept since Alberto went missing.

Luca sits up when he hears Signor Marcovaldo knock on her door.

They have a lead. Signor Marcovaldo sits on the edge of Giulia’s bed. Looks at Luca through the window. Found some fabric that matched his shirt a few miles north.

Luca slides down the ladder to the ground so fast he feels his palms rubbed raw from the rope burn.

Luca tears the tarp off the Vespa and kicks it into gear. He hears his name being called from the house, the thundering of footsteps down the stairs after him.

“Wait!” Signor Marcovaldo calls to him, but all Luca has done for the past week is wait.

He feels a sudden weight on the back of the Vespa and sees Giulia yanking on a helmet.

“Go!” she shouts in his ear.

He turns the Vespa north and goes as fast as he can.

Luca races the moon. Portorosso gives way to a tree line, thick with the scent of dew and dirt. He thinks he can feel Giulia’s hands shaking around him, but he does not know if that is the thrum of the Vespa beneath them or if her anxiety is an echo of his own.

All he knows is that Alberto is north. So that’s where Luca wants to be.

“STOP!”

Luca sees it at the same time Giulia does and brings the Vespa to a lurching halt against the dirt trail they had been following. Giulia tightens her grip on Luca to keep them both from careening off the vehicle.

Luca blinks at the figure in the road, clearing the spray of dust from his eyes.

The moonlight filters weakly through the leaves of the canopy above them. Luca can barely see, but the headlight from the Vespa offers enough of a glow to make out the form that stands on the path. Just far enough away from the light to be a shadow in the darkness.

Luca tentatively climbs off the Vespa and takes a step forward. It has been over a year, but Luca has seen that same silhouette in his dreams every day for a week.

“Alberto?”

The answering voice is raspy and hoarse, but its familiarity thunders in Luca’s head. “L…Luca?”

And then Alberto collapses.

Luca does not reach him before he hits the ground but it’s a close thing. “Alberto!”

The bottom of Alberto’s tank top is torn, he cheeks gaunt. Parts of him are blue scales. The base of his skull has purple fins that fade up into his soft tower of curly hair. Almost like he had gone for a swim, and not fully dried off.

“He’s bleeding. And I think he has a fever,” Giulia says quietly, and only now does Luca realize that she is kneeling on the other side of him. Luca hears her voice as if he’s underwater. There’s something off about it, he knows, but he cannot place it.

“C’mon, Luca. We have to get him home.”

The trip home is quiet. They sandwich Alberto between them and Luca drives even faster on the way back.

Alberto’s weight and heat against him is a reminder of his presence—heavy and warm and here—but it’s not as comforting as Luca had thought it would be. He’s hurt. He’s sick.

I’m gonna fix this, Luca thinks, and guns it even faster as Portorosso comes into view again.

Luca does not know what he expects when he pulls up to the Marcovaldo’s home. He had not thought about it. Giulia is pulled aside by her mother, hushed and harsh words shading the concern from which they originate.

Signor Marcovaldo says nothing. He pulls Alberto up in his arm and disappears into the house. The churning in Luca’s gut spikes the moment Alberto disappears from his view, so Luca follows.

Giulia’s father takes Alberto back to his room, ducking into the small doorway. Luca lingers at the threshold and watches.

“Never do that again,” Signor Marcovaldo says as he lays Alberto down in his bed. It’s not until he turns to look at Luca in the doorway that Luca realizes he was speaking to him, not Alberto.

It is not a promise Luca can make. Not when he can see the rise and fall of Alberto’s chest for his own eyes.

“I had to, sir.” Luca takes a step into the room. “Is… Alberto going to be okay?”

Signor Marcovaldo turns to him, then sighs. He wordlessly places his hand on top of Luca’s head as he passes by.

“I need to make some phone calls,” he says in lieu of an answer. “Watch him for me, Luca.”

In the hours that follow, Luca does not leave the room.

Giulia’s mother comes in and lectures him about running off. Giulia tries to come to his defense—“we found Alberto, Mamma! Can’t you just leave him alone?”—but Luca shakes his head and apologizes, even though he is not sorry.

Signor Marcovaldo has a doctor attend to Alberto. Infected, the doctor says. But treatable. I believe he will make a full recovery.

Luca pretends he does not hear the relieved tremble to Signor Marcovaldo’s breath in response.

Luca is alone with Alberto and the sun is just barely peeking over the ocean’s horizon line when Alberto wakes up.

Alberto’s hand twitches in Luca’s. His green eyes crack open, and Luca leaps to his feet.

“Luca?” His name falling from Alberto’s mouth—dry and raspy as it sounds in this moment—is nearly enough to make Luca’s knees give out from under him.

“Sì, sì, sì.” Luca fumbles for the glass of water and straw on the table beside the bed. “Here.”

Alberto does not look away from Luca’s face as he drinks the water. Luca knows this because he, also, cannot bring himself to look away. As Luca pulls the cup away and turns to call for Signor Marcovaldo, Alberto’s grip on his hand tightens.

“Wait,” Alberto says.

In this moment, Luca does not believe himself capable of denying Alberto much of anything. So he stops, and turns back.

“You’re really here?”

Alberto has never sounded so small. When he touches Luca’s cheek, Luca goes very still.

“Sì,” Luca whispers.

He watches as Alberto’s green eyes flood with tears, and then hears the creak of the floorboards behind him. When Luca glances over his shoulder, he sees Giulia’s father in the doorway.

“Alberto,” Signor Marcovaldo says, and Alberto breaks.

Luca has to leave the room when the police come to get Alberto’s statement, but he hears whispers of it amongst the adults late at night when he is supposed to be asleep.

Word of sea monsters is spreading, Giulia’s mother says. You said Alberto said they were talking of research? I do wonder if it may have been more about experimentation—

Signor Marcovaldo’s rumble interrupts her. He escaped, Giana, and they raided the warehouse. They are not a threat any longer. That, and Alberto’s forgiveness, is all I care about.

Massimo, it’s not your fault—

It is, came the firm disagreement. Dio mi perdoni, but it is.

Two days later, Alberto sits in the hideout beside Luca and watches the sunlight filter through the leaves above them.

The quiet between them is filled with the sounds of Portorosso around them: children playing soccer in the town square, fishermen calling to one another on passing boats, seagulls squaking as they pass by overhead. Giulia was working on selling what remained of the family’s stock of fish, so her idle chatter is nowhere to be heard. Luca closes his eyes and listens mostly to Alberto drumming his fingers against his own stomach.

Alberto had been quiet in the days since waking up. Luca didn’t press him on it. The sound of the breath passing through his lungs and his footsteps when he walked was enough for Luca.

“Hey,” Alberto says suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“I never thanked you for coming to find me. That night, in the woods?”

Luca frowns and looks over at him. Alberto is still staring at the sky. “You don’t have to thank me. Of course I’d come for you.”

“Yeah, I just…” Alberto trails off, then sits up suddenly. Startled, Luca sits up too. Alberto turns to look at him, his green eyes intense. “I… I feel like I knew that. When I was… there. I can’t explain why, I just… I just knew.” He grabs Luca’s face in both of his hands.

Luca swears his heartbeat stops all together, then starts thundering in his chest. “Alberto—"

“I…” Alberto swallows. His eyes search Luca’s face like he might vanish if he so much as blinks. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again. I fought my way out for you, but even then, I… I wasn’t… I couldn’t be sure, but I kept thinking—”

“Silenzio, Bruno?” Luca supplies, and turns to kiss Alberto’s palm against his face.

Alberto’s answering laugh is watery and thin as he presses his forehead against Luca’s. It is the most beautiful thing Luca has ever heard in his life.

#luca #luca fanfiction #luca/alberto #luca/alberto fanfiction #alberto scorfano #angst #missing person #experimentation cw #crying

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cursed-or-not · 4 years ago

Text

I couldn’t get one of the vignettes to work, so naturally this sat in my drafts for way too long, but this is based on a post by @thiscastielhasflown about Cas blushing around Dean :)))

Cas doesn’t think he’s ever felt so human and so holy at the same time.

He is not who he thought he was, and neither is Dean Winchester.

When Cas accepted his orders, when he agreed to go to Hell, it was under the pretense of rescuing a righteous man. Cas expected a soul so pure it hurts to look at it straight-on, one so bright it burns.

What he did not expect were the ragged shards in front of him, thrumming like a heartbeat.

It’s not the concept of a soul, not the made-to-order design, but instead the lived-in, broken essence of a human.

It is still bright, but just enough that Cas can’t look away.

Here is a human soul: righteous and recalcitrant and real.

Cas doesn’t know how he’s supposed to move on. This is an order unlike any other, a mission he’s not sure he can complete; he doesn’t know how he can pull this soul from the fire with the clinical precision that’s expected of him. He isn’t sure he can leave the scene without leaving fingerprints, a sprawling scar that proves his guilt.

Yes, this is ordered, but it’s also intimate.

Cas knows what souls look like in theory, but this is messy and charred, and there is light shining through the tatters.

Cas is captivated by the man behind it.

Here, Cas can see the toll a lifetime takes on a human; he can see this soul’s--Dean’s-- greatest joys and miseries, can feel his pain and pleasure and imperfection.

It’s achingly, hauntingly personal, and Cas’ face burns at the intimacy of it all.

Cas doesn’t know what this feeling is, but he thinks it’s distinctly human.

Cas is already marked.

. . .

It happens more and more often now that he’s human.

Cas’s cheeks burn every time a customer yells at him at the Gas n Sip, every time Nora looks at him a little too long, every time he makes a new mistake at being human.

It never feels the same as when it’s Dean making him blush, but Cas has started to forget what that feels like.

When Dean visits, he can’t fathom how he ever couldn’t remember.

They’re in Dean’s motel room together, and Cas is trying with everything in him not to break down.

This man, this kind, beautiful, caring man is the same one who sent Cas away.

He doesn’t know how to reconcile that, and Cas feels ready to burst with everything he’s not saying.

Part of him wants to ask. Part of him wants to make Dean tell him why Cas had to leave, why he wasn’t good enough anymore, and part of him wants to tell Dean that look, this is what’s become of me since then; I don’t have a bed or a home or a family, and I don’t know what I did wrong, but I know you sent me away.

Another part of him wants to cup Dean’s jaw in his hands and kiss him until everything feels okay.

“You know, Cas, it’s real good to see you,” Dean says, and Cas almost yells at the sincerity.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair because Cas wants to hear it and Dean means it and they’re still so far apart.

“You too, Dean,” Cas tells him, because this part of him always wins out.

Dean offers a small smile, but something in his face is crumpled and wavering beneath it.

Dean lets out a quick exhale, and Cas can’t read his expression.

“Cas…” Dean begins, and Cas doesn’t want to hear it anymore.

“It’s okay,” Cas says quickly, and he can’t tell if he means it or not.

Dean closes his eyes.

“It’s not,” he shakes his head bitterly. “I’ll explain it to you, one day, but for now it’s shitty and selfish and not okay.”

Cas doesn’t know what to say. He’s still hurt and angry, but this is Dean, and today is one of the days Cas wishes that he had powers that could heal more than just physical wounds. He wishes he could lay a hand on Dean and make him better, make him smile, but even when he was an angel, the best he could do was heal battle wounds before they bled out. Today, he doesn’t even have powers.

“I believe that you had a good reason,” Cas says honestly.

He doesn’t know what else he believes, but that much has to be true.

“It doesn’t matter if I did,” Dean tells him, but he doesn’t look quite as exhausted as he did before. “I’m sorry.”

Cas smiles gratefully.

“Thank you for coming,” Cas says. “And for letting me stay with you.”

“Well, mi casa es tu casa,” Dean jokes, gesturing around the motel room. “Weird stains and all.”

Cas almost slips up, then. He almost says that a cheap motel room with Dean is better than a sleeping bag in a lonely store, but he catches himself.

“I don’t mind,” Cas says instead. “I’m grateful.” Dean huffs a laugh.

“Come on, man, it’s not like I’m doing a huge favor. It’s a shitty motel room.” Dean grins. “Not even the honeymoon suite.”

For some reason, the idea of sharing a honeymoon suite sets Cas’s cheeks ablaze.

Dean doesn’t notice under the dingy motel lighting.

Later, when Dean wakes up to Cas watching him for the first time in years, Cas doesn’t notice the blush coloring Dean’s cheeks, either.

. . .

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air like the Sword of Damocles, but Cas thinks that the only one threatened is himself.

Dean won’t say it back, Cas knows.

He isn’t sure what he expected, but Dean won’t look him in the eyes and Cas needs to say something else before this stretches on any longer and his cheeks are burning again.

Cas wishes he could write off the blush as an effect of the poison, but he thinks that whatever this is won’t break as easily as a fever.

Cas looks away.

“I love all of you.”

He leaves it at that.

. . .

Cas has been back for three days when the house of cards finally crashes.

It’s been delicate, since he got back.

He understands; you can’t just drop a love confession on someone and expect it not to get awkward. Cas may not understand everything about being human, but this, he does.

At first the lack of confrontation surprised him. Looking back, though, Cas thinks that it’s the most in character reaction possible.

Cas had come back, Dean had pulled him into a fierce hug, and then they’ve been carefully avoiding any alone time since.

Cas thinks this might be the kindest reaction, might just be Dean trying not to break his best friend’s heart, but the silence is worse.

Cas has accepted his role in all of this, and he knows not to expect more than he can have. Still, if nothing else he wants his best friend back.

Cas has never really been one to take the first step, but considering the leap of faith he took before the Empty came, he figures he can manage a conversation.

He waits until Dean’s the only one left in the kitchen.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says carefully, and Dean doesn’t look as trapped as he expected. Mostly, he just looks tired.

“I think…” Cas struggles to find a way to begin. “We should talk.”

Dean nods around his beer, taking care not to look at Cas.

Cas stays on the other side of the counter.

“I know that we’re acting like nothing has changed,” Cas begins, “And if that’s what you want, then I understand. But if you have any… concerns, then--”

“Really, Cas? Concerns?”

Cas blinks. “Maybe that’s not exactly the right word, but--”

“Cas, that’s not even the right sentiment,” Dean responds, finally looking at him.

“Then what are you looking for?” Cas asks, and he hates that even now, he doesn’t know.

“What am I looking for?”

If Dean objected to “concerns,” his offense is even greater now. Cas’s brow furrows.

Dean continues, “Cas, you told me you love me!”

Cas almost flinches.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I did.”

Cas can’t meet Dean’s eyes, but he’s not sure he wants to know what they’re saying, anyway.

“There’s-- kind of a lot to unpack there, man,” Dean says, and his voice is marginally calmer.

Cas looks up.

“I’m sorry.”

Cas knows immediately that wasn’t what Dean was looking for, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out what he is.

“You’re sorry, huh?” Dean’s voice is low, and Cas thinks there might be something ragged in it.

Cas blinks. “Yes.”

Dean huffs a bitter laugh.

“Okay, then. Think we’re done talking.”

“What-- Dean,” Cas protests, utterly confused as to how this went so wrong.

Cas steels himself to continue. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable, but Dean, I don’t want-- I can’t lose you.”

Something in Dean’s expression softens, but his shoulders stay tensed.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he offers. “Listen, I get it. You said something on impulse and I misinterpreted it and now you’re sorry, apparently. Yeah, it sucks, but you’re not gonna lose me.”

Cas feels confusion etch onto his face.

“You think that my apology means I regret it?”

Dean looks at him like it’s obvious.

“I mean, it’s understandable,” Dean replies, gesturing widely.

Cas can’t believe how wrong this conversation is going.

“Dean, of course I don’t regret it,” Cas admits, still at a loss for how Dean could have reached that conclusion. “When someone confesses something in their dying moments that they’ve been carrying with them for more than a decade, they’re not generally lying.”

Dean looks at him half in doubt and half in wonder.

“I never said you were lying,” Dean grumbles in protest. Cas thinks the sullenness is more for show than anything else.

He has moved to Cas’s side of the counter.

“Well, I wasn’t,” Cas responds, and he knows it’s not witty or clever or important, but maybe if he keeps reaffirming it, Dean will start to believe it.

“I’m glad,” Dean says, and he puzzles Cas by offering him his beer. Now, they’re shoulder to shoulder.

Cas isn’t sure why, but he takes the beer. Dean’s eyes track the motion as he raises it to his lips, and Cas’s cheeks burn when Dean watches him swallow.

This time, Dean notices.

“You blushing?” Dean asks through a cocky grin, and damn it that just made it worse.

“No,” Cas grumbles.

“Now you’re lying through your teeth,” Dean accuses, taking his beer back and taking a sip.

“Well, I wasn’t lying about the other thing,” Cas responds, trying to regain his composure.

Dean’s joking disposition crumbles, and he glances at Cas’s face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dean nods, looking like he’s milling something over.

He seems to decide to take another sip of beer instead, but as he raises it to his lips, he says, “I love you, too, you know.”

Of all the responses Cas was expecting, this never made the list.

His face is hot again, though, and his heartrate is a little too sporadic, and if Dean keeps drinking beer like it’s a normal friday night, Cas is going to go insane.

His brain finally catches up to the situation.

“You what?” Cas asks incredulously.

Dean’s casual dimeanor finally falls away, and this time it’s his turn to blush as he looks at Cas over his beer.

“Love you,” Dean mutters, and it’s barely audible, but it’s more than enough.

Cas gives himself five more seconds of shocked staring before he huffs a laugh.

“I never thought…” Cas doesn’t know where it’s going, just knows that he’s never felt awe like this before.

“Yeah, me either,” Dean admits. “But it’s true.”

Dean sets his bottle on the counter, and Cas watches the movement, heart still beating a little too fast.

There’s still too much to say and also nothing. When Cas turns to face Dean, Dean takes his face in his hands.

Cas looks at him in wonder, eyes tracing the freckles and smile lines on his face.

Dean bites his lip quickly, still considering something, and then Cas doesn’t know who leans in first, but they’re kissing.

It’s honey-sweet and molasses-slow, and Cas thinks that this has to be why freedom exists.

#idk definitively what this is #bc it's part 15x18 coda #and part destiel through the years #but it was nice to write something #spn fanfic #destiel #15x18 coda #first kiss #spn spoilers #mine

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 4 years ago

Text

Speaking her language

For the charming @empress-writes 💙💛🧡💖

Hope you’ll like the story!

The South of France is a safer place for the Basterds, as they took a break after their last mission.

They were currently hidden in a remote cottage near the small village of Gassin. Its inhabitants were kind and helpful, which was a blessing for Aldo Raine and his men.

"No news from the superiors, Lieutenant?"

"Na yet, Donny. But ya can be sure that we're gonna heard about them, one way or another!"

"So, let's enjoy our free time!" happily exclaimed Hirschberg as he ate a piece of cake.

"Can you sometimes stop eating, you glutton?" admonished Andy.

"But Mrs. Dupin's pies are so delicious!"

As the others were gently chatting, Wicki was gazing at (Y/N) (L/N), the only woman in the group. He could not help but smile while looking at her as she read a book.

If you ask him, he would probably answer that everything she did was perfection. To sum up, he fell heels over head in love with the woman.

Of course, the other Basterds were aware of it and never missed an opportunity to tease him about his crush. Even Hugo loved taunting him!

Wilhelm's daydreaming was interrupted by Utivitch, who shyly asked:

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Smithson?" answered the woman with a gentle smile.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, I was reading Les lettres de mon moulin by Alphonse Daudet. It is a French collection of short stories about Provence!"

"Okay... Wait, you understand French?"

She laughed.

"Uti, can you remind us what is my job here?"

"She is the translator, you dummy!" growled Hugo.

"Don't be so harsh, Stiglitz!" scolded Hicox.

"Indeed, I am the translator of the group."

"Of course!"

"By the way, how many languages do you speak?" inquired Omar.

A sly grin appeared on her face.

"What if we played a little game?"

"YES! A GAME!" happily screamed Andy, Michael, and Simon.

"Ouch! My ears!" grumbled Wicki.

"Okay, let's play! What are the rules, doll?" asked Donny.

"It's simple: I'll talk in a language to each of you in turn, and you have to guess how many languages I can speak!"

"Sounds good to me! Start whenever ya want, pretty!"

Suddenly, all the Basterds were quiet and waited for (Y/N).

While she was mentally choosing the first player, the other Basterds noticed the enamored gaze of Wicki towards the blonde woman. Time to play some trick on the suitor...

"I'm going to start with... Mr. Hicox!"

"I'm always ready, my dear!"

"Eres muy guapo. ¡Un verdadero caballero!" (You're very handsome. A real gentleman!)"

"Mmmmh... I would say that you speak Spanish!"

"Exactly!"

"And what did you say?"

"I told you that you were handsome, and you look like a real gentleman!"

The Basterds laughed and whistled.

"Well, milady, you're absolutely astonishing! Hearing you speaking Spanish is like listening to a nightingale!" answered the British spy with a seductive wink.

The young woman chuckled before asking:

"You sweet-talker! Alright! Who's next?"

"Why won't you ask Omar?" snickered Michael.

"Go to hell!" grunted the latter.

"Don't worry, Omar: it's only for fun. Are you ready?"

A charming smile came across Omar's face:

"Please, go ahead!"

"Okay... Nǐ hěn yǒnggǎn, wǒ hěn gāoxìng chéngwéi nǐ de péngyǒu!" (You're brave, and I'm happy to be your friend!)

Omar was puzzled.

"It does not sound like a European language..."

"You're right, it's not from Europe..."

"Mh, that's tricky... I don't know!"

"Give it a try!" she gently encouraged him.

The soldier scratched the back of his head:

"Er... Is it Japanese?"

"Sorry, but no. It was Chinese!"

"CHINESE? REALLY?" yelled Omar under the laughs of his comrades.

"Yes, indeed. I learned it when I was younger, thanks to my nanny who came from Shangai! And if you want a translation, it means that you're brave and I am happy to be your friend!"

"Alright... Well, thank you! It was beautiful! Especially when it comes from you!"

"You charmer!"

Wicki raised an eyebrow: he started to guess what his friends were doing, and he was not pleased...

"Fine, let's go back to the game, would you? The next one will be... Donny!"

"At your orders, baby doll!"

"Then, I start... Sei forte e affascinante! E amo il tuo sorriso!" (You're strong and charming! And I love your smile!)

"Ah, so easy! Italian!"

"Bravo! You're right!"

"And what did you mean?"

"I said Donny is strong and charming... and I love his smile!"

Donny put his large hands on his chest, faking to be enthralled.

"And she speaks Italian! Gosh, this woman is perfect!"

He blew her a kiss.

"Please, receive this proof of love from a Bostonian guy!"

Laughing at his antics, (Y/N) mimicked catching the kiss and holding it against her heart.

"Thank you, Donny!"

As for Wilhelm, he gets annoyed. He did not know if they were trying to woo her for real or if they were just pissing him off. In both cases, he hated them at the moment.

"Okay. For the next turn, I'll ask for... Lieutenant Raine!"

"Here I am, pretty woman!"

"Fine, let's go... 'ant qayid rayie qawiun washajae wajadhab jadana!" (You are an astounding leader. Sturdy, brave, and so attractive!)

"Uh, that's a tricky one! Sounds like the Cree language..."

"Unfortunately, Lieutenant, I don't speak Native American languages."

"Okay... So, is it Danish?"

"No."

"Hm... Perhaps Portuguese?"

"Wrong answer. It was Arabic!"

"WOAH!" exclaimed all the Basterds, impressed.

"God, you awe me! And what did you mean?"

"I was saying that you are an astounding leader and that you are sturdy, brave, and attractive!"

Aldo smirked and gave her his best seductive face.

"Girl, give me back my heart, would ya? You stole it since the first day!"

(Y/N) heartily laughed.

"Please, Lieutenant: you're a charmer!"

"Only for you, sweetheart!"

"Verräter!" (Betrayer!) gritted Wicki.

"Fine, let's go! I choose... Andy!"

"At your service, milady!"

"Okay, I start... Du är söt när du ler." (You're cute when you smile)

"Uh... Does this language exist?"

"Of course!"

"Okay, Kagan: use your brains... Ah, I know: Danish!"

"Almost..."

"Swedish?"

"Good answer!"

"Well done, Kagan!" laughed Archie.

"Thanks, sir... But I'm sure that if (Y/N) goes to Sweden, they would hate her!"

"Why?"

"Look at her smile: it's like the sun, the snow would melt in a blink!"

"Oh My God, Kagan! That was the corniest thing I've ever heard!" roared Michael as he clutched his sides.

"Well, I find it cute. Thank you, Andy!"

"You're welcome... By the way, what did you mean?"

"Oh, I said that you're cute when you smile!"

Kagan fiercely blushed.

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Pleasure is mine... Hey, Michael, do you want to try?"

"I never say no to a challenge, especially from a beautiful lady!"

"Let's see... Vy geniy i prekrasnyy chelovek." (You are a genius and a lovely man).

"Woah, Woah, Woah! What the hell is that language?"

"I assure you, this is a real language!"

"Uh... German?"

"NO!" answered Wicki and Stiglitz, offended.

"Calm down, guys! Okay, so if it's not German... It's Russian!"

"Bravo!" (Y/N) clapped happily.

"Wait a minute... If I did not miss the track, we know that you speak 6 languages! And I don't know why, but I think you know more!" said Utivitch.

"That's right! Okay, now, who wants to try?"

"I volunteer!" exclaimed Smithson.

"With pleasure! Let's see which language I use with you..." she wondered.

She got an idea and started to speak in a foreign language:

"Anata wa watashi ga imamade deatta naka de mottomo omoshirokute shinsetsuna hitodesu!" (You're the funniest and kindest man I ever met!)

"Ah, I got it! If it's not Chinese... It's Japanese!"

"Splendid!"

"Well done, chap!" laughed Simon as he applauded.

"Thanks, pal. And may I know the meaning of your sentence?"

"Of course! I said that you are the funniest and kindest man I ever met!"

"And they dare to say perfection does not exist! Obviously, they did not meet our lovely (Y/N)!" shouted Utivitch.

"Please, don't exaggerate!" blushed the young woman.

Wicki clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles went white. He swore to God that they would pay for their antics.

"Okay, the next player would be... Simon!"

"Yes, ma'am! Always yours!"

"You trickster! Fine, try to guess this one... אני מאוד מעריך את החברה שלך." (I really appreciate your company)

"No... You speak Hebrew? The language of our people?"

"Indeed."

"But it sounds beautiful when it comes from you! Okay, you know what? After the war, I'll marry you!"

"Oh, Simon! Don't be so crazy!" she laughed.

"I'm already crazy in love with you!"

"And you say I am corny, Michael..." sneered Andy.

"Forget what I said!"

After she stopped laughing, (Y/N) declared:

"So, I think we had three players last. Well, let's the game begin with Hirschberg."

"Hooray! Here I am!"

"Alright! So, try to find this one... Jesteś uroczym żarłokiem." (You're an adorable glutton)

"Well, that's unusual! Er... I don't remember hearing this language before!"

"Give me suggestions!"

"It is a Slavic language?"

"Not at all."

Gerold sighed.

"Damn it, girl! It's a freakin' riddle!"

"Watch your language in front of a lady!" scolded Hicox.

"Don't worry, Archie: I've heard worse before!" said (Y/N) with a smug grin.

"Mh, I don't know... Is it Turkish?"

"Not at all, but I am currently studying this language!"

"Er... Nope, I don't know!"

"It's Polish!"

"My my, she is impressive!" chuckled Aldo as he took a bite of his bread.

"And what did you say?"

"I said that you are an adorable glutton!"

Hearing that, the other Basterds roared with laughter.

"AH AH AH AH! Well done, (Y/N)!" shrieked Utivitch.

"Hey, that's not fair!" yelped Hirschberg.

Upset that she would offend her friend, the woman apologized.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Gerold. I did not mean to..."

"It's alright, (Y/N). Likewise, I'll always forgive you!"

"Oh, why?"

"Because you are beautiful!" answered the soldier with a huge smile.

Relieved, she happily laughed while Wicki contained himself to punch someone's face.

"Okay, now, let's go on with Hugo!"

"I'm listening..."

"I'm sure you'll recognize this language... Du erinnerst mich an einen Wolf: einsam, mysteriös und faszinierend." (You remind me of a wolf: solitary, mysterious, and fascinating.)

"German, without hesitation!" smirked Stiglitz.

"Indeed!"

"And what did she say?" asked Donny.

Hugo stood up and walked towards her.

"She compared me to wolf. She said that I am solitary, mysterious, and fascinating..."

"(Y/N) got the point!" smiled Michael.

Stiglitz arrived near the woman and kneeled with deference.

"You won... I surrender to your beautiful voice! I could not resist you speaking my mother tongue with such delicacy!"

"Nice touch, Stiglitz!" exclaimed Archie.

"Oh, Hugo! You must be exaggerating: I'm pretty sure my accent was a disaster!"

"The only thing pretty is you, (Y/N)" grinned Hugo as he gently kissed the woman's hand... while he looked out of the corner of his eyes at Wilhelm with a roguish glance.

"Trottel!" (You jerk)!" gritted the latter through his teeth.

At the same moment, (Y/N) was amused by her friends' antics: they always treated her like a queen and were very respectful towards her. But this time, she felt that there was something else, like if they were playing a prank on someone...

"You guys are all amazing! But let's finish this game with the last player: Wilhelm!"

Hearing his name, Wicki snapped out of his anger and said:

"Yes, I'm ready!"

"Okay so, let's see if you will be able to find this one... Mon cher Wilhelm, tu es un homme courageux, loyal, et séduisant." (My dear Wilhelm, you are a courageous, loyal, and attractive man.)

The Austrian Jewish man smirked:

"Without any doubt, I would say... French!"

"Precisely! You had a good ear!"

"And what did you say to Wilhelm? I'm curious..." asked Hirschberg with a playful tone.

(Y/N) slightly flushed before answering:

"I told him that he was a brave, loyal, and attractive man!"

"How cute!" laughed Aldo.

As for Wilhelm, he was struck: definitely, he was in love! With a smug smile, he said:

"Merci beaucoup pour le compliment, jolie mademoiselle!" (Thank you very much for the compliment, lovely miss!)

(Y/N) was impressed by his hidden talent.

"Oh, what a surprise! I did not know you speak French!"

"I know a few... but I'm sure I would not reach your level!"

"Don't underestimate yourself!"

"Heck, she could give some “private” lessons, if you want!" smirked Andy while wiggling his eyebrows.

"Keep your dirty thoughts for you!" snarled Wicki.

"Okay guys, calm down! Now that everyone answered (Y/N), did anyone count how many languages she can speak?" asked Archie.

"I did sir! And she speaks in 11 languages!" replied Utivitch.

"11 LANGUAGES?" shouted the others.

"Indeed, you counted well, Smithson. But I also speak Portuguese, Dutch, and Slavic languages. And I'm currently learning Turkish, Hindi, Danish, Korean, and Finnish!"

"Girl, are ya planning to learn all the goddamn languages around the world?" asked Aldo, flabbergasted.

"Maybe... Seriously, I've always been interested in languages since I was a little girl and I never stopped my passion! Luckily for me, I was gifted with a good memory..."

"We noticed it." shrugged Hugo.

"Man, we're lucky to have her with us!" stated Hirschberg.

"Well spotted, private!"

They enjoyed the afternoon, when (Y/N) had to go to the village for some groceries.

Once she left, Wicki turned his angered glare towards his comrades.

"May I know WHAT THE FUCK were you all doing earlier? Wooing her as if you did not know what I felt?"

"Don't be mad, Wicki: we just wanted to make a joke!" said Utivitch who tried to calm his friend.

"I did not find it very funny!" growled the Austrian.

"Don't be so ill-humored! We'll never steal her from you. Of course, we all love her, but she is like a sister or a best friend to many of us!" retorted Kagan.

"Damn right, Kagan. But Wil, ya better tell (Y/N) what ya feel for her! Stop tripping and man up!" ordered Aldo.

"And how I'm supposed to do that?"

"Use your brains, Wicki, and take a guess: why don't you use something she likes to declare your love?" muttered Hugo as he smoked his cigarette.

"Something she likes..." mumbled Wilhelm as he lost himself in his thoughts.

Suddenly, an idea popped up in his mind, and he slightly grinned: maybe he can try something interesting.

He got up and searched in his bag a book his mother gave him before his departure. Wilhelm felt that the answer to his issue was between the pages of this poetry collection...

Later in the evening...

The cool summer night was calm and appeasing for the Basterds as they were finishing the meals brought by their French accomplices.

At the same time, (Y/N) went for a small walk through the forest. She enjoyed the peaceful surrounding of the woods and sat on a tree stump to gaze at the shining stars who enlightened the dark blue sky.

The young woman slightly shivered as she felt the gentle breeze caress her bare arms.

"Can I join you?" asked a familiar masculine voice.

Startled, she turned and was relieved to see Wilhelm.

"Oh, it's you! You scare me!"

"I'm sorry!"

"It's fine... You can sit with me!"

Thanking her, the soldier sat close to the young woman.

He felt a knot in his stomach as he was nervous: God, this girl would be the death of him!

He straightened up himself and declared:

"It's a nice night!"

"Indeed: I've always appreciated summer nights. I don't why, but it always soothes me... And it reminds me of this beautiful painting entitled Starry Night."

"Made by Van Gogh in 1888, if I'm right?"

"Exactly. It was a representation of a starry sky in Provence... where we are!"

"Interesting, I did not know this part of the story..." smiled Wicki.

He leaned closer and said:

"You know, this landscape reminds me of a poem..."

"Really?"

"Would you like to listen?"

"I would enjoy it!" (Y/N) smiled.

Wilhelm cleared his throat and declaimed:

Es liegt der heiße Sommer (There lies the heat of summer)

Auf deinen Wängelein; (On your cheek’s lovely art:)

Es liegt der Winter, der kalte, (There lies the cold of winter)

In deinem Herzchen klein. (Within your little heart.)

Das wird sich bei dir ändern, (That will change, beloved,)

Du Vielgeliebte mein! (The end not as the start!)

Der Winter wird auf den Wangen, (Winter on your cheek then,)

Der Sommer im Herzen sein. (Summer in your heart.)

When he finished reciting the poem, he saw a beautiful smile across (Y/N)'s face.

"Wilhelm, it was amazing!"

"Danke. Maybe you know the author..."

"I think it's Heinrich Heine!"

"Exactly! It’s the poem titled There lies the heat of summer."

"He wrote such beautiful masterpieces about love."

She shrugged with a sly smile.

"I'm a helpless romantic!"

"Don't apologize: it's one of your qualities!"

He added with a slight blush on his face.

"Besides, this poem has a special meaning for me..."

"Honestly? Why?"

"Yes. Well, when I was younger, I told my mother that I would say this poem to the girl I want to spend my life with..."

"Oh, that's so charming..."

(Y/N) interrupted herself when she realized what happened.

"Wait a minute... Did you mean that..."

Wicki nodded.

"You've guessed right: I love you, (Y/N). Since the first day in our team, I knew you were meant to me. But I was a coward for a long time and I did not know how to tell you the truth... until tonight!"

There was a silence until the young woman let out a relieved sigh:

"Thank God, what a relief!"

"What do you mean?"

She fidgeted with her fingers, slightly embarrassed.

"You know, Wilhelm... You were not the only one who was shy about their feelings!"

"You mean... that it's reciprocated?"

She agreed with a slight nod and a timid smile.

Assuaged by this revelation, Wicki leaned closer to her face, letting a few inches between their lips.

"Ich liebe dich, (Y/N)..."

"I love you too, Wilhelm..."

And they gently kissed, their lips sealed in a tender moment...

Meantime, the other Basterds were spying on them, delighted smiles on their faces.

"Finally! He said it!" smirked Aldo.

"Look how cute they are!" grinned Utivitch.

"Indeed, they are. But remember guys: if you want to stay alive, don't cha flirt with her!" stated Donny.

"We took note, Don'. Should we celebrate this new couple?" asked Hirschberg.

"We'll do it when they'll come back to the camp. For now, let's them enjoy this moment alone!" tenderly smiled Andy.

"Gentlemen, we shall come back before they notice our presence. Moreover, we have a celebration to prepare!" simpered Hicox.

"The British's damn right! Let's go, boys!" discreetly cheered Michael.

"I'm so excited! It's like another Valentine's Day!" laughed Simon.

As they went back, Hugo looked back at the lovers with a small grin on his face.

"Well played, Wicki. You managed to speak her language, after all..."

Well, he was right: Wilhelm and (Y/N) found the perfect language between each other: the language of love...

Thank you for the reading!

I hope you’ll like it and I’m looking for your requests!

Take care and see you soon! 😘🥰😍🤩😷

#requests #inglourious basterds #wilhelm wicki #gedeon burkhard #rosamund pike

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the-scarecrxw · 4 years ago

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📓 :D

okay <3 I'm very fond of The Boys Retiring apparently but I have this one fic that I've just barely started but it's probably gonna be long.

So au Jeremiah going crazy plotline never happens. it's just chaos of chaos' sake. Rome still gets shot and is out of the picture for awhile. Jonathan and Jervis are up to no good until Jervis gets arrested (Jonathan very rudely does not give a fuck and doesn't help him) then like a week later Jerome emerges and together they cause chaos.

After a seemingly only Jerome attack on the gcpd (jim voice: that knockout gas hasn't been identified, tho. could be Crane.) Jim and Harvey are searching around the gcpd for any stragglers of Jerome's followers and such and whoops they check an alley and completely interrupt Jerome and Jonathan's post mission adrenaline rush bang and after some awkward back and forth (and Rome admitting he tossed his gun the moment he saw Jon) Jim is like "fuckin idiots. please cuff yourselves."

As they're leading them away Harvey makes a snide comment calling them freaks (bc Jerome made a joke about handcuffing Jonathan) and Jonathan does Not take it well and promptly elbows him and bolts, and Jerome quickly follows. Jim and Harvey take fire but the boys are able to duck out of the alley unscathed.

or so it seemed. Jerome looks back to not see Jonathan. He of course immediately turns back and oh god Jonathan is on the ground and there's blood and Jerome is panicking and getting angry because and Jim Fucking Gordon shot his boyfriend in the lung and hes probably dying.

this got long whoops one sec

Jim. feels very bad. he has very much so always felt bad about Jonathan. he always thought if he'd been quicker he could have saved him from his dad's serum. if he payed more attention to his case afterwards he wouldn't have gotten sent to Arkham. Abused there. Wouldn't have become Scarecrow. And now he just shot him. he's just a kid, really. barely 18.

Jim of course is like "okay, be mad later and help me stabilize him. get him on his side, put lots of pressure." in the bg Harvey is calling an ambulance and a patrol car to take Jerome to the precinct. Jerome very fiercely fights that he's not leaving Jonathan, who at this point is very out of it. So out of it that Jerome is very concerned and Jim is like "uhh yeah he's in shock because his lung just collapsed" and Jerome is like👌this close to strangling Jim but that would mean taking pressure off of Jonathan's wound.

Patrol car is there, ambulance another few minutes out. Officer switches places with Jim so he can take Jerome to the precinct [AND THIS IS WHERE I LEFT OFF WRITING SO FAR] but Jerome is still refusing but he eventually manages to pull him away (Harvey replaces him to apply pressure) While they're driving to the precinct Jim awkwardly tries to reassure him that Jonathan will be okay, the operation to help him rarely has complications. Jerome doesn't respond and Jim just... politely pretends he doesn't hear Jerome biting back sobs.

They keep Jerome in one of the interrogation rooms while Jim ya know washes all this blood off himself (Jerome is still covered in it) I haven't thought much about this portion of the fic, it's moreso time filler for until Jonathan gets out of surgery. Probably just gonna be Jerome refusing to talk to anyone until he can see Jonathan. Eventually Jim gets a call from Harvey that Jonathan is out of surgery, stable, and just waking from anesthesia so it would be the perfect time to interrogate him and Jim reluctantly agrees.

Jim, though, does have a heart and informs Jerome of the news and he immediately flips and demands to see him but Jim keeps refusing until Jerome yells "I'll stay in Arkham peacefully for the rest of my life if I can just get some time with him!" Jim reluctantly agrees (and helps clean him up bc they're not gonna bring him in covered in blood)

When they arrive Harvey has already been questioning him for a bit but it hasn't gone far bc Jon is still loopy and very good at avoiding questions. The moment he sees Jerome he tries to get out of bed except he's been quite literally strapped down to it so that doesn't go well. Harvey steps back and lets Jerome sit by Jon

We get very soft times from the pov of the awkward observers. Rome holds Jon's hand, occasionally strokes his face and hair and kisses his cheek while they're quietly talking and it's all very sweet and so incredibly uncharacteristic from what they're used to seeing from. well. maniacs.

As Jon really starts to get more lucid it's clear he's not comfortable being strapped down at all, he's constantly testing the straps and squirming and Jerome starts to unstrap him but Jim is quick to protest, saying he has to stay in bed and they can't risk him trying to escape while injured and Jerome snaps "he's not going to escape! he's going to stay and cooperate. He just doesn't like the straps. They did that to him in Arkham." Jim lets Jerome finish unstrapping him. they talk quietly some more for a bit before Harvey interrupts like "hey we really got to uh. talk and shit." and they both agree so the four of them sit there and after a moment of silence Jerome goes

"I'll agree to go to Arkham and stay if Jonathan can be pardoned. Blame it on temporary insanity-- something. Anything to keep him from going back there. He can function in society-- he can." Jonathan reluctantly nods and agrees

"Arkham tried giving me a medication. it quieted the Scarecrow. made it easier to ignore his suggestions and the urges he would give me. I refused to take them... But I'll take them now. If I can visit Jerome in Arkham."

Jim and Harvey of course initially protest but Rome and Jon make a really good argument. It's clear the arrangement was something they'd talked about before, but was still painful to enact. They clung to each other's hands, shaking. They didn't like the idea of being seperated. Being together kept them sane but Jerome refused to have Jonathan go back to Arkham. it had been a long argument and a lot of convincing before Jonathan agreed to the plan of Jerome going to Arkham alone.

So.... it happens. There's an actual trial this time (bc Negotiations) Jonathan is still too hurt to attend in person so lawyer in his stead and such. Jonathan watches the news with tears in his eyes in his hospital room as they get everything they planned. As Jerome gets carted off past a jeering crowd into an Arkham inmate transfer van.

I don't have much past this point. I imagine part of the deal has Jonathan being some sort of city/state ward for awhile? he's technically an adult but he'd been in basically prison since 15, so he has help getting set back up. I imagine a filler chapter of a Very Mundane Day of Jonathan's life.

Wakes up in his shitty little apartment. takes his morning meds. has a shitty poptart breakfast (he never really liked them until Jerome introduced him to the cookies and cream flavor) Goes to some classes (he's learning psychology...) where he pretends to be a normal person. Works after school (he's a library assistant.) Gets home and ponders if he needs glasses (glasses jonathan supremacy.) Has a shitty dinner while he emails his court ordered therapist that yes he is doing perfectly fine (that's a lie) no he doesn't need to see him this week, that panicked email in the middle of the night was absolutely nothing. Takes his night meds. Does homework or studies until he passes out. Rinse and Repeat until Saturday.

Saturday is his one good day. That's his Jerome day. His therapist notes an immediate uptick in his mood on Saturdays for approximately 4 days until it rapidly drops to concerning levels. Seeing Jerome sort of... Resets him. Cant quite say happy, how can you be happy when you can only see the love of your life your boyfriend for two hours once a week? For a long time they weren't allowed to touch, Jerome was handcuffed to the table. Now they hold hands his entire visit and sit close enough to whisper to each other softly, and they try to sneak kisses when the guard looks away for a moment.

Jerome's therapist notes his mood stabilizes on Fridays and lasts until Tuesday, in which he returns to the expected maniacal behavior.

....

okay I have more I want to write about this but I have to start getting ready for work so :( please enjoy this <3

#asks #b-rainlet #my writing #scarejokes #jonathan #jerome #fic: caught

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anavkourfic · 4 years ago

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here’s an excerpt from the scrapped first chapter of no place for firestarters! the only issue with it is that it’s in the wrong pov—originally, i wanted to write this story as switching between lio and galo’s points of view and started out with a galo chapter, then decided to make everything in lio’s pov, rendering this chapter in its current form unusable.

anyway, here it is!

***

Galo works forty-eight hours straight after the Parnassus falls.

It’s a whirlwind. Galo barely has time to give Lio a celebratory fistbump before they leap into rescue operations. The crew splits up: Remi, Varys, and Lucia go out into the city to do search and rescue on the crash site; Galo, Aina, Ignis, and Lio stay in the cire to get the Burnish out of the Promatech pods. They free Lio’s generals first, both of whom hug him so tightly Galo’s surprised his spine doesn’t snap, then move on from there.

Galo learns a lot of things in this process: that the burnish all seem to know and care deeply about Lio, that the pods weren’t designed to be reopened, that even though Heris Ardebeit is helping them with the rescue effort, she still can’t see what she’d done wrong. Ignis eventually escorts her elsewhere, out of range of Lio, Galo, and Aina’s combined fury.

Though, that fury is nothing compared to the look in Lio’s eyes when they get to the first empty pod.

Galo thinks at first that someone has already emptied this one—they have civilian EMTs helping as well, spread out through the engine to cover as much ground as possible—until he sees that the arm and leg cuffs are still closed and intact. They’re thick, so it usually takes monster bolt cutters or the jaws of life to cut them, but these haven’t been touched. It doesn’t make sense, unless someone managed to slip free. Which, also difficult, since the cuffs have been tight enough that it’s hard to clip them without also cutting the person they’re trying to free.

“Did they put in empty pods?” he says, scratching the side of his head. The generator behind them sputters, echoing along with the many others in the cavernous space. “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone–“

“Stop.”

Lio’s voice is sharp, and Galo stops immediately. He sees that Lio’s looking down at the floor of the pod and—oh. Oh. There’s a pile of ash on the floor. Galo’s mind goes back to the cave, to Thyma, and oh. Shit.

“Serial numbers,” Lio barks, whirling around to where Aina’s helping a Burnish to the stairs of the scaffolding “Do the pods have them?”

Aina balks for a second [Galo would too in her position; Lio looks almost like he did with the dragon, minus the colour palette change and the flaming hair.] but she says, “I’ll ask Heris. She’s in medical, and I’m headed there anyway.”

“I d-didn’t see anything,” the Burnish says. She doesn’t look that much older than Lio, but Galo has no concept of how the Burnish age; they could be twenty, or sixty. “Sorry, boss.”

Lio’s expression immediately softens. “It’s alright, Alexis, I wouldn’t have expected you to.”

“I want to help,” she insists. Galo notices her legs are trembling; she’s on the verge of collapsing, but she’s still giving Lio a fierce stare. “Please, I want to help–“

“You need to recover first,” Lio shuts her down. “Talk to me again when you’ve gotten some sleep and you’ve eaten something.”

Alexis gives him a noodley salute, and then Aina helps her down the stairs. Lio watches her go, then turns to the pod again. His hands clench into fists.

"Do you need me to get something to write stuff down with?" Galo asks tentatively. "If there are numbers. Or anything else?"

Lio doesn't respond for a long moment, but then he nods once, and Galo runs off.

It sucks. There's probably a stronger word for it, but Galo's brain is too foggy to come up with something more eloquent. So he just mutters, "This sucks. This fucking sucks," as he looks for a notepad.

The pods do have numbers; Heris says they're "for inventory" [Lio's jaw clenches so tightly Galo hears it click shut] and that there's "subject data for each one." Lio logs each number in a pocket-sized notebook, strings strands of caution tape that Galo found in the back of Burning Rescue's truck across the entrance to each pod, to make sure no one tries to step in.

"We need....urns, or something," Galo says to Ignis, when he's taking a water break and explaining the situation."Lio keeps talking about a mass grave, but I can tell he doesn't like it."

"I'll see what I can do," Ignis's face is unreadable behind his sunglasses. He's been assigned the leader of rescue efforts, meaning he gets to deal with all the bureaucratic and organizational stuff that makes Galo dizzy. "There are a few favours I can call in."

When he relays this to Lio, he gets back a "Nothing happens without my say-so," and then, a few minutes later, a very quiet, "Thank you."

Getting everyone out of the core takes up the first twenty-four hours, and then Galo suits up to help with search and rescue. Turns out that a giant spaceship falling out of the sky from several hundred feet can cause damage in a pretty large radius. He finds and frees people in fallen buildings, in piles of rubble, in the cavernous cracks around the Parnassus's launch site. And then there's the non-people related things: flooding because of burst pipes all over the city, a couple fires from damaged electrical equipment, a terrifying gas leak that nearly causes an explosion by the main medical tents. There's so much damage, and so many casualties, it makes Galo's chest ache if he thinks about it too long.

He sees Lio in bursts—working to help clear ground to set up tents for displaced people and the Burnish, talking with a group of medics from the nearby hospital, giving orders to a mixed group of volunteers and Burnish who are well enough to help. Galo grins and waves to him when he can, feels like he’s walking on clouds when he gets a half-smile and a wave in return.

After two days, Ignis calls all of Burning Rescue into a tent for a meeting.

“The SAR teams from the next cities over came in about an hour ago,” He says. “That means we’re off shift. Seventy-two hour mandatory rest time. No exceptions.”

Galo would normally argue, but the exhaustion’s starting to set in, and the numbers are adding up in his head—two full days of rescue work, ten hours from Lio's dragon to the Promare going back home, a week or so in Kray's prison. Galo's not great at math, especially when he's tired, but however many hours it's been, he hasn't gotten decent rest in a while. And not getting decent rest means he’s nowhere near a decent rescuer.

The rest of the team seems to share the same sentiment. No one argues. Ignis claps his hands.

“Let’s pack up. Galo–“

Galo snaps to attention.

“Sir!”

“Bring me Fotia and his generals. I need to ask them something before we go.”

“Yessir!”

The group disperses. Galo stops by the supply tent to grab a water bottle for Lio, chugs one himself before going out to find Lio and the others.

He doesn’t have to look far. He pushes aside the tent flap and runs directly into something skinny and green. Said skinny green thing yelps and then, with a whirl of motion, Galo's on the ground, flat on his back, and there's a very pointy boot in the middle of his chest. Galo beams.

"Lio! I was looking for you!"

Lio blinks, then seems to realize what happened and leaps back. "Fuck, sorry, sorry." He's still not wearing a shirt, and he looks cold, shaking just a little.

"No, it's fine!" Galo picks himself back up, wincing a little. That didn't do any favours to his bruises from the fight with Kray, or the other fight with Kray, or the time he fell off the Parnassus, or the other time he fell off the Parnassus. [It was a significant pile of rubble.] "Didn't mean to startle you. Do you judo-flip everyone you run into?"

"No," Lio ducks his head, the faint hint of a blush high on his cheekbones. It's cute, actually. Galo's brain short-circuits for a hot sec before he remembers what he was doing.

"Oh! I got you some water," He offers the bottle. "Though, that's probably why you were going in there, huh?"

"It was," Lio takes it. "Thank you."

He tries to open it, but his hands are too shaky. Galo reaches out to help.

"Here, let me–"

"I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself," Lio replies stiffly. The blush has spread to his ears now. He's embarrassed, and Galo would find it adorable if Lio wasn't also so frustrated."

"Doesn't mean you have to," Galo says. "Plus, your hands look pretty busted."

Lio looks down at one palm, torn and blistered. His fingers tense, just a little bit, like he's expecting something to happen. Galo realizes he's trying to call the fire to his hands, to heal the cuts. There's a flash of pain in his eyes, then he drops his hand and shoves the water bottle in Galo's direction. "Fine."

Galo cracks it open with only a little bit of fumbling. ["Wow, these caps are actually tighter than I thought." "The indomitable Galo Thymos, bested by a water bottle..." "Hey, I can do this, just give me a minute!"] Lio accepts it with another quiet thank-you.

#excerpt #promare #npffs #my writing

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the-fandoms-georgie · 4 years ago

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Okay, so this is the idea I had for a Lord Elrond X Shy! Singer! Reader!

If you would like to write these or take some of the ideas from these just tag me in whatever you write! You don't have to write it exactly like the details, if you only like some of it, just use some of it and be creative. I would hate to take the creativeness away from the writer because of my description being to detailed!

This is what reader will sing like and what she'll sing!

youtube

So this idea will take place in Rivendale!

So, maybe the reader comes from a long line of Elves whom are skilled on the arts. Like, readers mother is a singer and their father is a musician, but a fierce warrior. They come from a elves kingdom that is small yet beautiful, stationed in the woods, a snowy land where the moon shines beautifully. Perhaps Gandalf is a friend of readers mother. But reader had snuck from her home, wanting to see the outside world. Reader meets Gandalf, someone who they see as a father-figure. Reader had always sang when they were little but had stopped when they heard news of what happened too her kingdom and found their parents were missing. So, reader stays with Gandalf a while til their arrival at Rivendale. Reader stays there while Gandalf heads out to meet with a dwarf, Thorin. Gandalf, gave reader a dress and hair piece before he left hoping to see her on her birthday.

In their tone being at Rivendale, Reader becomes fond of Lord Elrond and finds herself writing songs about love. It surprises reader because they had stopped writing and singing when they were little. Gandalf had only heard their voice once. Reader was extremely shy around the other elves, especially Elrond. Reader talked to Lady Galadriel every once in a while but that was it. So, readers birthday, wearing their dress and hair piece, goes to Lady Galadriel and speaks with her. Then Reader gets word that Gandalf had arrived in Rivendale with dwarves and a hobbit. Reader races to go Greer Gandalf in an almost tackled hug." Father! It's so wonderful to see you today!" Reader sat happily, having thought he'd miss their birthday. That is when she realized that at this moment, dwarves, a hobbit and the elves were looking at the two oddly, surprised at the fact Gandalf was a father for he never mentioned it nor did the reader til now. Of course, reader only realized that there were others in the room due to a hobbit and a few dwarves either choked or spit out their ale at her "father" comment. Gandalf got a bit defensive at their reaction and had sarcastically questioned them with a "What? Is it hard to believe that I could possibly be a father?" With a chuckle and a roll of his eyes he hugged reader back. "I see you are wearing the dress I got you for your birthday. " Gandalf says to reader. Lord Elrond had heard Gandalf and maybe he's surprised to hear it's their birthday, because reader didn't tell anyone and about Gandalf being their father. Reader tells the story about how he found them after they snuck away from their kingdom wanting to see the outside world. Maybe reader gas one to many cups of wine while telling their story and Elrond just becomes so interested in reader that he doesn't even realize how a smile formed on his lips. Reader even let's the fact that more of her parents were musicians and everyone just asks her to sing, Elrond completely in awe at this, wanting to hear her sing. Reader looks over at Elrond and maybe says, " Only if Lord Elrond doesn't mind. I haven't sung since I was a child so I apologize if I'm rusty" He gives them permission, curious about reader. Reader takes a deep breath before standing, patting Gandalf's shoulder with a smile. She goes over to the elves playing instruments and asks kindly if they can borrow their harp. Reader begins to play ' Carry Me' with the harp and begins singing. Gandalf is in awe, not having heard reader sing in so many years, and Elrond is in love. You could practically see the hearts in his eyes. The company completely like shocked. Them she finishes the song, everyone surprised but loved the song. Later that night, maybe Elrond visits readers chambers and like asks her about her inspiration for the song and maybe they confess to Elrond of her feelings? Maybe they kiss or something?

Tags: @trxblemaker @moony-artnstuff @narnvaeron @legolaslovely @dumbassunderthemountain @thorinthehottotty @tolkien-fantasy @0chemicalwaste0 @theelvenhaven @entishramblings

( hope you guys don't mind me tagging you!)

Let me know your thoughts on this idea!!

#Big Daddy Gandalf #daddy gandalf #lord elrond #elrond x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #someone write this #thank you

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amethystina · 2 years ago

Note

Hello, for the questions for fic writers :

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

<3 <3 <3

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

Since this question was listed twice I'll just go ahead and give two concepts/AUs!

The first is a Soulmate AU. I've always liked the concept but haven't really found an idea that I like enough to actually want to write it. I'm so busy and have so many other projects going on that I don't really have time to go searching for fic ideas. Instead, my brain has to present a fully formed idea and basically pitch it to me before I'm willing to even consider writing it. And since Soulmate AUs haven't really been high on my list of priorities, that hasn't happened yet. I guess my brain has been busy plotting other fics instead?

(Well, aside from that The Devil Judge Soulmate AU I suddenly came up with and am very intrigued by. So maybe? Who knows?)

The second is a Vampire AU. I cannot believe I've never written a Vampire AU. That's not to say that I'm necessarily obsessed with vampires (I like them a normal amount) it just surprises me that I've never written one. So that I definitely want to do at some point!

(And, unlike the Soulmate AU, my brain has actually tried to present me with a number of ideas for Vampire AUs (the latest one being a The Devil Judge fic, predictably) but I've kept myself at bay for now because I already have too many fics to write. Woe is me.)

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

The sequel to Gravitational Pull? Though "currently working on" might be slightly misleading in this case. I wrote 840 words two months back and have been staring blankly at the document ever since x'D I think I just need to sit down and force myself past that first hurdle because I know exactly what's going to happen, I just need to write it down. But yeah, here's an excerpt:

Ga On tried his best not to look at Yo Han.

The tension lay thick inside the car, the silence pushing against Ga On's eardrums. Judge Oh, who sat in the back, probably assumed it was because of the crisis at hand — apprehension at the thought of what lay ahead of them — but that was only partially true. Ga On was also struggling with an insistent, nerve-wracking hum of concern, making his spine stiff and throat tight.

Yo Han shouldn't be here. He was still injured — only just over a day had passed since he got shot.

No matter how grave the situation was, Yo Han should be at home, resting, not driving them to an area of Seoul that was quickly becoming as chaotic as an active war zone.

Ga On gritted his teeth — until his jaw began hurting from the strain — and looked down at his hands. They were tightly clenched in his lap, his thumb rubbing restlessly over the other. Perhaps Ga On was being too selfish, but he didn't want Yo Han to put himself in danger like this — not when he wasn't at his best. Ga On could admit that Yo Han hid it well but, since Ga On knew where to look, he could see the subtle delay in Yo Han's movements and how he held himself slightly more rigidly than usual.

Yo Han was still in pain.

He still had a hole in his stomach but pretended that he didn't.

And Ga On had to play along, since Kang Yo Han couldn't show any weakness. The people around them could know that the chief judge was injured. The fact that their opponents did was already bad enough — and was probably why they chose now to try and overthrow him. They didn't think Yo Han would be able to fight back as fiercely — with as much precision — as he normally would.

They were expecting an easy victory.

But, even injured, Yo Han was a force to be reckoned with and, as always, would do whatever it took to win.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Possibly TMI incoming and TW for bullying and verbal abuse.

I think I'll take this opportunity to say how happy I am that I started writing fanfics. Which is extra hilarious when you consider the fact that it started with a thought as basic as: "I want to write at least one before I die." And then, ten years later, here we are. And I'm in no way exaggerating when I say that it changed my life.

One concrete example is that had I never written Autonomy, I would never have met the people who finally told me I was a good person — after hearing the exact opposite for over two years. To make a very long story short, there were several people in my life at the time who, when in pain, took it out on me, often by projecting. They told me how selfish, self-centred, and unsupportive I was. That I lacked empathy and always put myself first. That I was arrogant and a bully, who belittled everyone I spoke to and thought way too highly of myself, my intelligence, and my worth. And, well, I believed them.

Because I can be very firm and dominant, especially in person. So it's very likely that I might (unknowingly) assert myself too much. And since this abuse only happened in private, none of my other friends or family knew about it. This narrative of me being a terrible person was, for about two years, the only thing I heard. Because, to all my other friends, I was so stable and confident — how could I possibly be doubting myself? And why should they remind me that I was a good person since, surely, I knew that?

Except no — I didn't. Because I only heard the opposite. For years.

Until, suddenly one day, I got a DM on Tumblr asking me if I wanted to join a Discord server because they'd read one of my Winteriron fics and loved it. And so I did. Despite being scared to death because oh no, now these people who really like my fic are going to find out I'm a terrible person and they're never going to want to read anything I've written ever again.

But, to my absolute surprise, the opposite happened.

The people on this server LOVED me. They genuinely seemed to enjoy my company. And I quickly earned the nickname Steve (it was a Marvel server — I promise it made complete sense to us at the time) because I kept everyone in line and, apparently, was always ready to throw hands for a good cause.

I even had my own gif! The command was !amy and was used when someone was misbehaving to signal "You're on thin fucking ice, buddy."

Sometimes, I'd even wake up to find that the gif had been used in my absence, when other members on the server had basically gone: "Oh man, Amy's going to be soooo disappointed in you when she gets back RIP it was nice knowing you."

And rarely have I been so confused. Or felt so much like a liar.

Because that's what I thought I was doing. I thought I was lying to these people about who I actually was. That I was somehow able to masquerade as a Good Person all while actually being a despicable, selfish monster behind the scenes who hurt every single person I came into contact with.

And, eventually, I cracked. Not in a very visible way to most people, but enough to ask my most trusted friends on that server if I was a bad person. And I was unanimously met with a VERY confused: "What? Why do you ask? You, of all people?"

Because, according to them, not only was I the one who kept everyone in line, but also one of the kindest, most considerate people on that server. I was the conscience. The voice of reason. The one who always listened. The one who always knew exactly what to say when people were hurting. The one who made sure to de-escalate a situation before it could turn into something dangerous or hurtful.

And that changed my life.

Because, all of a sudden, I had a completely different narrative that competed with the one I'd heard for two years. In a matter of days, my world was turned upside down. We're talking a full-blown existential crisis. Because everything I thought I knew about myself was suddenly called into question and I had to figure out where I ended and the lies I had been told by other people began. It was a painful, gruelling, and utterly exhausting process but well worth it for how much it helped my mental health and self-image.

All because of a fanfic. Kind of amazing, isn't it?

The point I'm trying to make is that you'll never know in what place or what shape you might find the support and stability you need to have the kind of epiphany that I did. Perhaps it starts with a gigantic Space AU you wrote because it sounded fun, followed by an invitation to a whacky Discord server? Who knows?

And that's why I still write. And why I still post. And why I try to reply to every comment and ask if I can.

Because I know there are people like the old me out there. People who aren't seen or heard in the way they deserve. And maybe I won't be able to give them that with my limited reach, but I can at least try. I can write stories they relate to, stories that give them solace, stories that make them realise things about themselves, that make them question the abuse they've been submitted to, without even knowing it. That makes them see. That makes them want to forgive themselves and love themselves. That can help them find community and like-minded people.

If my writing can offer comfort, safety, and a feeling of belonging, then it's all worth it.

If I can help one person in the way those people on that server helped me, then it's worth it.

And that's why I'll always be grateful for deciding to write fanfics. Not just because of how it's helped me, but because it's given me the opportunity to help and bring people together.

It's never "just" a fanfic.

So, if you've ever read one of my works, I'm so grateful for your time and attention. And I hope I was able to make you smile or, perhaps, made you feel a little less lonely, even just for a short while.

I appreciate you and wish you all the best. Take care 💜

Questions for fic writers

#Amethystina Does Ask Memes #Anonymous #Well #That went to places I didn't plan #I guess I'm a little sentimental or something xD #But genuinely #Find your people #Find your support #It doesn't matter if it's through fanfics #Or music #Or knitting #Just whatever #Find the people who will help and treasure you #It will do wonders #Also brief sidenote:#No my name is not actually Amy xD #It's just the shortened form of Amethystina and it caught on #So to many I'm known as Amy

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omoi-no-hoka · 4 years ago

Audio

Hi, guys! Sorry for the rather long hiatus. Work is still...soul-consuming haha. But I wanted to make a post about one of my favorite Japanese artists and this really cool song he released a little bit ago! All of his songs just got added to Spotify finally yesterday!

His name is 米津玄師 Yonezu Kenshi, and he is amazing. He started out making Vocaloid music under the name Hachi, in which he programmed all of the instruments and vocals. Now he mostly does music with his own vocals, and he writes and produces all of it. He also used to do all the illustrations for his music videos, and he does the cover art for his albums! I’m always swept away by his creativity and the poetry in his lyrics.

And you know how big a nerd I am about words, so here’s my English translation of my favorite song from his latest album. The song is called ひまわり Himawari (Sunflower).

This is a bit long, so I’ll put a “Read More” thing here. If you open the whole post, you’ll see my translation, and also a breakdown of my favorite kanji and words he uses. Hope you enjoy!

I hope that everyone studying Japanese can take a look at these lyrics, my notes on them, and see that even just listening actively to music can be a good way to study. 💗

ひまわり　Himawari　Sunflower

悲しくって　蹴飛ばした　地面を強く Kanashikutte kettobashita jimen wo tsuyoku Sorrowful, the ground I had sprung away from 跳ねっ返る　光に指を立てて Hanekkaeru hikari ni yubi wo tatete pulled me back strongly. I raised my finger to the light 愛したくて　噛み付いた　喉笛深く aishitakute kamitsuita nodobue fukaku Longingly, biting down on your lips and whistling deeply その様が　あんまりに美しくてさあ Sono sama ga anmari ni utsukushikute saa That visage is simply too beautiful 舌を打って　曠野の中　風に抗い Shita wo utte, kouya no naka kaze ni aragai Click your tongue, defy the wind of this wasteland 夜もすがら　嗄れた産声で歌う yo mo sugara shagareta ubugoe de utau Sing in the hoarse cries of a newborn through the night 遠く遠く見据えていた　凍て星の先まで tooku tooku misuete ita ite hoshi no saki made Shine the light of your bruised heart 痣だらけの心　輝かせて aza darake no kokoro kagayakasete all the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance その姿をいつだって　僕は追いかけていたんだ sono sugata wo itsudatte boku ha oikakete itan da That silhouette, I had always been chasing it. 転がるように線を貫いて　突き刺していく切っ先を korogaru you ni sen wo tsuranuite tukisashite iku kissaki wo I pierced through those stabbing blades as though I were falling 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も夏を待っている hikage ni saita himarwari ga ima mo natsu wo matte iru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still waiting for summer 人いきれを裂いて笑ってくれ　僕の奥でもう一度 hito ikire wo saite waratte kure boku no oku de mou ichido Break through that stifling air and laugh for me, deep within me, once more 消し飛べ　散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ keshitobe sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he Erase it all and fly, fire the shotgun into tomorrow 吐き出せ　北極星へ舵取れ　その手で hakidase hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Get it all out, take the oar to the North Star into your own hands 傷ついて　静脈を不意に巡るエレキ kizutsuite joumyaku wo fui ni meguru ereki Wounded, electricity flows unexpectedly in the veins 掻き毟って　吹き荒び　鳴る哀歌 kakimusshite fukisusabi naru erejii Rip it away, rage upon it, let this elegy ring out 聴こえているあの時から　少しも絶えぬまま kikoeteiru ano toki kara sukoshi mo todaenu mama It never dies down, not even the slightest, from the time I first could hear it 震えるほど全て　消えないぜ furueru hodo subete kienaize It won’t go away, to the point that I’m trembling その姿がいつだって　僕を映し出していた sono sugata ga itsudatte boku wo utsushidashite ita That silhouette, it was always reflecting me もしも同じ街で生まれたら　君のようになれたかな moshimo onaji machi de umaretara kimi no you ni nareta kana If we had been born in the same town, could I have become like you? 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も海を見つめてる hikage ni saita himawari ga ima mo umi wo mitsumeteru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still watching the ocean. 聴こえるなら強く叫んでくれ　僕の名をもう一度 kikoeru nara tsuyoku sakende kure boku no na wo mou ichido If you can hear me, scream my name one more time. 鳴き声　かんかん照りの街路で　佗び戯れ nakigoe kankan teri no kairou de wabizare A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor 解き放て　乱反射して遠くへ　鳴り響け tokihanate ranhansha shite tooku he narihibike Let it out, that bent refraction that echoes far into the distance その姿をいつだって　僕は追いかけていたんだ sono sugata wo itsudatte boku ha oikakete itan da That silhouette, I had always been chasing it. 転がるように線を貫いて　突き刺していく切っ先を korogaru you ni sen wo tsuranuite tukisashite iku kissaki wo I pierced through those stabbing blades as though I were falling 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も夏を待っている hikage ni saita himarwari ga ima mo natsu wo matte iru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still waiting for summer 人いきれを裂いて笑ってくれ　僕の奥でもう一度 hito ikire wo saite waratte kure boku no oku de mou ichido Break through that stifling air and laugh for me, deep within me, once more 消し飛べ　散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ keshitobe sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he Erase it all and fly, fire the shotgun into tomorrow 吐き出せ　北極星へ舵取れ　その手で hakidase hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Get it all out, take the oar to the North Star into your own hands

A Quick Note on Translating Lyrics

I’ve got to say that it’s really hard to translate song lyrics haha. Sometimes the word order is so different between Japanese and English that I have to swap the lyrics.

遠く遠く見据えていた　凍て星の先まで tooku tooku misuete ita ite hoshi no saki made Shine the light of your bruised heart 痣だらけの心　輝かせて aza darake no kokoro kagayakasete all the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance

The Japanese is actually in reverse order of the English here. Technically, a very direct translation would be “All the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance, shine the light of your bruised heart.”

Interesting Words

舌を打って shita wo utte click your tongue

In Japanese culture, doing that “tch!” sound by clicking your tongue is rude. It shows that you are impatient, irritated, or frustrated. Many English speakers click their tongue when they’ve been asked a question and need to think about it. If you are a tongue clicker and you go to Japan, try to curb the habit!

The full lyrics here are: “Click your tongue, defy the wind of this wasteland.”

So this really expresses the pent-up frustration and anger in this person.

嗄れた shagareta, kareta hoarse

What I love about this word is the kanji and its radicals. We have 口 (mouth) and 夏 (summer) put into one kanji. Can you imagine what it would be like if all the heat and dryness of summer was in your mouth and throat, and how hoarse and miserable you would feel? What a cool kanji! (Note: this is a very low frequency kanji.)

切っ先 kissaki point (of a sword, etc.); pointed verbal attack

I had a hard time translating this line for a lot of reasons, but in particular I wasn’t sure whether this kissaki was a sword or a verbal attack. I can only assume that because this song talks about crying out and singing so much that it must be the verbal meaning, but Yonezu uses many metaphors so I could also see it being blades.

人いきれ hito ikire body heat from several people in close quarters; stuffy air

This was a new word for me. Again, I found myself unsure of which meaning to use when I translated it. I went for the “stuffy air” meaning in the end because it was more succinct, but I imagine that Yonezu was probably imagining the former meaning, because he mentions streets and cities, which I imagine to be crowded. He’s also asking a person he’s lost to call out, and perhaps they are lost in a metaphorical sea of people. Then again, summer imagery is strong in this song as well. His word choice is just so GOOD. I wish he’d marry me.

散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he fire the shotgun into tomorrow

This evokes much more beautiful imagery in Japanese. The kanji for “shotgun” are 散弾銃 (sandanjuu). 散 means “to scatter” or “to spread,” like fallen cherry blossom petals scatter in a gust of wind. So rather than evoking the image of someone pulling a trigger, it evokes the image of the pellets scattering into the air like fireworks or petals almost.

北極星へ舵取れ　その手で Hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Take the oar to the North Star into your own hands

Ahhhh this is just so freaking pretty. “Take the oar to to the North Star into your own hands.” In other words, determine your own fate, take charge of your life. I just love the “oar” here.

吹き荒び fukisusabi to blow fiercely; to rage, to play (a flute, etc.) for fun

Again, I wasn’t sure how to interpret this line because of the multiple meanings woven into this word. Japanese is SO. COOL. you guys.

哀歌 aika lament (song); elegy; dirge; sad song

My man Yonezu out here bein tricky. Though the official lyrics use the kanji 哀歌, he actually sings this as エレジー (elegy). And that rhymes with the last word of the previous line, エレキ (ereki). Typically, Japanese songwriters tend not to think too much about rhyming. In fact, in Japanese in general, rhyming isn’t thought of as frequently as it is in English. So the fact that Yonezu used this interesting play on words with 哀歌 was pretty cool to me.

震えるほど全て　消えないぜ furueru hodo subete kienai ze It won’t go away, to the point that I’m trembling

I just didn’t have a way to translate the feelings in the ぜ here. “Ze” is a sentence-ending particle that usually shows a person’s confidence. So for him to use it here as he describes himself trembling, is like he’s putting on a front of confidence when really he’s deeply troubled.

佗び戯れ wabizare ???????

This was my favorite word in the song, and also the hardest one to translate! It doesn’t appear to be a real word in the dictionary, but it’s an imperative made of two different words: 侘び and 戯れ.

Have you ever heard of the term “wabi” or “wabisabi?” It’s this concept of Japanese culture and aesthetics that focuses on the beauty of impermanence and solitude, and an appreciation for the sorrow that comes with the transience.

To look up the definition of “wabi,” it means “taste for the simple and quiet; rustic simplicity; austere refinement; wabi,” or “enjoyment of a quiet life.”

But to look up the kanji of wabi (侘), we learn that it means “proud, lonely.”

So this is a very nuanced word! I think that the “wabi” of our word “wabizare” is meant to conjure the meaning of the kanji wabi, “proud, lonely.”

Now, 戯. Zare means “pleasantry; joke; tomfoolery.” There is also a word 戯言 zaregoto, which means “nonsense” or “wishful thinking bordering on nonsense.” I imagine that when Yonezu created this word 佗び戯れ wabizare, he wanted to combine the “proud and lonely” with “wishful thinking bordering on nonsense.”

鳴き声　かんかん照りの街路で　佗び戯れ nakigoe kankan teri no kairou de wabizare A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor

In other words, he’s asking this person to call out to him, but he knows that they are far away, too far for him to hear. He wants them to give out a cry, one that will sound as lonely as it does nonsensical because there is no way it will reach him.

Uh... What Does This Song Actually Mean?

Disclaimer: This is entirely my own opinion and it could be totally wrong! I always believe that everyone can interpret any piece of art how they like.

The tricky thing about Japanese is that you can omit subjects, and Yonezu does that a lot. So unless there’s an imperative or a use of pronouns, I’m not sure which line is about whom.

But basically, I think that there was this beautiful person that the singer came to know, someone that they loved and admired. But that person fell into a very dark, hopeless situation. They are “a sunflower blooming in the shade, waiting for summer,” and the singer wants that person to reach out to him. “If you can hear me, scream my name one more time. A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor.”

The chorus is all imperatives, telling the person to leap into tomorrow, to get it all out, to take the oars into their own hands and head for the North Star.

I think that this song is all about the singer wanting to help a person they care deeply for, and imploring that person to take action rather than suffer passively.

The End!

I hope that you guys liked this post and that maybe you learned some new words and even found a new artist you love!

Would people like to see more lyrics translations? They’re kinda fun!

#japanese lyrics translation #japanese language #study japanese #learn japanese #song lyrics #japanese vocabulary #study kanji #learn kanji #kanji #kenshi yonezu #米津玄師 #Stray Sheep #jrock #jpop

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waywardfacegarden · 4 years ago

Note

What is your ult fav anime and ult fav otp? You can only choose one *evil grin*

First of all, thank you so much for the ask!!!! I love getting asks, it always makes me so happy when people are interested in me, haha🤣💜 Second of all, the answer will be under the cut because... it somehow got too long... but I mean. You can’t ask me about ships or anime and don’t expect that with how much I babble here all the time about those things specifically, LOL.

So, anon, I hope you don’t mind me giving you an almost-essay as an answer to this!!🤣

HAHA, anon, you are evil!!!! bUT. I actually have an answer to this!! Haha. I didn’t need to think about it, either! As much as I absolutely love and die for a lot of animes, I always tell people my favorite favorite anime is Erased/Boku Dake Ga Inai Machi. I read the manga later and well, the manga is even better!! The resolution of the conflict, the background of the villain, the story is much more developed/better explained in the manga, but even when the anime is not a super amazing adaptation, I still think it did an amazing job!! The reason(s) of why this is my favorite anime is(are) simple: I love every single character (except. you know. the evil ones, haha). I’m usually not that attracted to protagonists, but Satoru has my heart in his hands. I’m so attached to him. He’s selfless, smart, tries his very best and loves so deeply. I absolutely love how the author managed the women/girls in the story, too. I started watching it without knowing a single thing more than “oh, he’s trying to solve a murder” and OH BOY, did I was surprised with the very first episode!!! Never ever have screamed so much and lose my shit that much with a first ep, and that’s saying a lot asjdkasjd. Maybe it was because I didn’t know a single thing, but either way, I was obsessed since the very first seconds. I love the villain, even when people say it was “obvious, lazy or predictable” since the start. I love Satoru’s mom. I love how it is dark and sad but just the right amount. I love how much it made me feel. I sobbed, and screamed, and laughed, and almost wanted to break my laptop while watching, too, lol. It seriously is an amazing anime. The characters, dynamics, the plot, everything was so well-done! I would die for the kids, for Satoru’s mom, for Airi. Their dynamics make me melt. The writing is fantastic!! I feel like time-traveling and solving murders are delicate things that, if you don’t know how to handle, are gonna fail you. If you don’t know how to connect things, the story is not gonna feel rewarding, it’s going to feel confusing. But with Erased, everything made sense and connected until the end, which is something I’m obsessed with. Add that to the freaking stellar animation, the aesthetic of it (I still love the subtle change in colors/that black framing in the “past” asdkajf), and the fact that I’m so, so, sooo weak for thrillers + science fiction-ish and kids as protagonists, lol. So, yeah, anon, that’s my fave anime, even when I love, love, love, LOVE a lot of more. I could talk about like, maybe 30 animes with so much love it would amaze you, lol. And that’s just talking about anime, ohhh how many mangas do I love, too... But yeah!!! Even if I don’t talk about this anime enough on here, I think is criminally underrated, and I talk about it to everyone irl I know, lol.

About my favorite ship!!!! HAHA, the thing is. I have like 500 ships and I probably would die for like. 100 of them. Easily. I even have my top of faves, tbh, haha. But my ultimate favorite ship is sasunaru/narusasu. Maybe it’s a very “basic” answer, I don’t know, lol, but I seriously think they always will be. I won’t talk so much about them because then I’d never shut up and this answer is already so long ajsdkadj (I feel like that twitter thread that is like “okay, i’ll try to be brief (1/475)” LOL). But the reason why they are my fave is because I’ve never became this obsessed with a ship before. They were the first ship I felt so deeply for. They had me since the very first eps and continued to rip my heart out, to made me FEEL so much for both of them; for their longing, for their yearning, for their love for each other. The fact that they’re two broken boys who found the connection they so desperately craved for in each other? The fact that Sasuke taught Naruto, a boy who was hated all his goddamn childhood for something he didn’t even know about, what love was, what sacrificing yourself for someone was, what caring was? The fact that Shippuden is about Naruto so desperately trying to understand, trying to make Sasuke understand, and loving Sasuke so fiercely back (without giving a damn about what other people said, without giving up on him, saying that if being smart meant giving up on Sasuke than he rather being dumb all his life)? The fact that the first part of Naruto is about Sasuke doing all those little things and making Naruto feel validated, loved, cared for, seen? And then Shippuden is about Naruto screaming into a void, trying to tell Sasuke “I love you, too, I love you back, as deeply as you did, and I want you to know that even if I don’t understand, I want to understand, I want to be there for you, I care for you so much that just the very idea of you being dead or hurt gives me an attack; I want you to be okay, and I’m never giving up on you”?? The fact that I still sob like a baby every time I watch ONE minute of that last battle and the fact that Naruto answering Sasuke to “you’ve been saying that all the time, but what exactly... does that (being your friend) mean to you?” with “even if you ask me, I can’t exactly put it into words. I just... when I saw you hurting, it... kinda... hurt me, too. So much that I couldn’t stand it, that I couldn’t just leave you alone” STILL KILLS ME LIKE THE FIRST TIME EVERY SINGLE TIME I HEAR IT. LIKE GOD. MY HEART CANNOT. It’s just so emotionally rewarding seeing they make amends at the end and also discover how the other has been loving the other back just as deeply as they did. -- They’re also just a bunch of tropes I love piled up together, tbh, and the kind of characters I love having paired up. The tsundere-ish kid with a dark past, that’s so kind and so selfless and loves so deeply that it breaks him plus the kid with the tragic backstory that’s basically The Sun itself, a bit dumb but also so caring and so cool, and the one that makes the tsundere-ish boy’s heart go all doki doki. Idk, I just love my rivals trope, my “could have been childhood friends if they just had the courage to talk” trope, the “I care so deeply about you and love you with all my soul” trope, piled up with so many emotional layers and so deep emotional connection??? Oof. They’re just my very first ship and the one that practically owns my heart and soul. They have so many layers and they hurt me but also melt me and heal me and make me fall in love with their raw, pure love. They’re soulmates, your honor. Haha. They just... really make me feel so much, I can’t quite explain it. As much as I love, love, love, LOVE all my ships, they’re... different, I guess. They even made me write for them. My very first fics, my very first tryings/attempts to write was for them. And to be honest, I was obsessed with Naruto for such a long time... (maybe because it was my first anime LOL). Sasunaru/Narusasu and all their moments (that I kid you not, I remembered like every little thing in the 700+ eps, even with the NUMBER on which ep it happened, of them. The exact lines, too.) was like, everything I talked about for like. Half a year or more, LOL, and my mom wouldn’t let me lie, she knows. After school, I was in the car and was mentioning for the 50th time that moment Sasuke recognized it wasn’t Naruto in the Chuunin Exams bc Naruto used the kunai in his other leg. LOL. I was eating and I was talking about the battle of the Valley of the End. It was dinner and I was talking about that ending with the lyrics “please kiss me, please kiss me all night”. I just. They’re so important to me. They mean so much to me. And I know I said I was going to be brief so I better shut up now ajsdkajsd. But, yeah, they’re my favorite. :’)

#asks #about me #sns #boku dake ga inai machi #erased #thank you so much for this ask anon!!!!#it made me so happy!!!!#it also let me ramble a bit about my fave things so. thanks a lot #hope you're doing super amazing!!!#hope you have an amazing week too!!!!!!!!!!#love you!!!!#take care!!!!!!!!! stay safe!!!!!!#*sending positive and warm vibes your way*#(i think the answer of the ship was kinda expected LOL)

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thefinalcinderella · 4 years ago

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Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 3 - Practice Begins (Part 5)

This chapter took a lifetime lol

List of translations here

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Students who were earnestly tackling long-distance ran at least six-hundred kilometers in a month. When it was time for the final stretch, it was common for some to run more than a thousand kilometers a month. Kakeru did long training runs, aiming for that level. He wished the residents of Chikusei-sou success, but that didn’t mean he intended to match his own training to the level of a newly-formed team.

“Kakeru, you ran a little too much.”

Kiyose, who was checking the training diaries, told him that after the main training. It was when everyone was working on leisurely cooling down while changing clothes and stretching on the grass of the field.

For the first two weeks, everyone struggled to make it through the regimen, in dire straits with muscle pain, blood blisters and awful foot blisters. However, the members had potential from the beginning. Now, it seemed that their bodies were adjusting little by little: running was becoming a bit more fun, and they had managed to assimilate the regimen written on the training table.

Inwardly, Kakeru was surprised at the high adaptability of the residents, but it was ultimately just beginner’s training. He was pursuing running on a whole different level. Unless someone stopped him, he tended to run for as long and as far as he liked.

“Even at your age, your body isn’t fully matured yet, so you can’t push yourself too hard. What will you do if you overwork your body now and injure it?”

Lately, Kakeru’s body felt very light. He felt that the more he ran, the stronger he got, and the more his speed improved. That was why in actuality, Kiyose’s warning didn’t hit home for him. Even so, he obediently answered, “Yes.”

“On the other hand, Prince is running too little.”

In Prince’s training diary, the word “treadmill” was written once every two days instead of “evening jog”.

“I thought that honesty was one of your best points but…this is actually just ‘I skipped jogging and read manga’, right?”

Even if Kiyose invited Prince to jog with him in the evening, Prince had built a barricade out of manga and stubbornly refused to open the door to his room.

Pursued by Kiyose, Prince desperately explained himself. “That’s true, but I really do read manga while using the treadmill. Lately, I feel like I’ve been gaining some muscle on my legs.”

“Let me see.”

Kiyose touched Prince’s calves to confirm. Seeing that, Yuki warned him, “Haiji, you should really stop that leg-touching habit of yours soon.”

Kiyose got up with a “hmm”.

“It’s true that you’ve made some progress in morning jogging and main practice. But working out on a treadmill while reading manga isn’t a good idea; it’ll ruin your form and it won’t help you develop the sensation of running on a road. I hope that you’ll join the evening jogs every day as well.”

Before Kiyose’s quiet, forceful power, Prince had no choice but to swear, “I will join.” As for Kakeru, he was relieved: he wanted Prince to run outside as much as possible. The treadmill was installed in his room, which was already bearing a lot of weight, and every time Prince trained there, Kakeru’s ceiling creaked like it was going to burst open.

“Unlike our honest Prince, there’s a king who is submitting a diary that’s filled with lies and embellishments.”

At Kiyose’s words, everyone looked at King and laughed. “You found out?” King asked, picking at the dirt with the toe of his shoe like he was embarrassed. “It’s because I can’t run at all and my times aren’t getting any better. I thought that was bad, so I showed off a little in my report.”

“It’s still only two weeks since you started training. Results won’t show that quickly,” Kiyose told King gently. “To become the quiz king, you need to steadily build up your knowledge and skills to hit the buzzer fast, right? It’s the same with track; cheap tricks won’t work. The physical strength and skills are acquired through daily training. Then, the courage to look at your true ability straight on is what will save you in the end in the actual event. I know that you’ve been training seriously, so you can just write down the truth.”

King nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“There’s no particular problems with anyone else so far. But, Nico-chan-senpai.”

“Yeah?” Nico-chan, called by Kiyose, stopped fixing his shoelaces and looked up.

“You haven’t been eating a lot lately.”

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t lie. Who do you think is making your food?”

It was Kiyose. Nothing could be hidden from the master of Chikusei-sou, who not only made the training plans but also the residents’ food.

Nico-chan explained himself while scratching his cheek. “Look, I’m stocky, you know? I need to lose some weight.”

“There’s no need for that,” Kiyose cut him off flatly. “You work your body during training, so you’ll lose weight even if you continue to eat the way you have until now. An unreasonable diet can cause your body to break down, so please eat a balanced and proper diet.”

“Got it. But if I can’t tighten up my body well in training, then I’ll go on a diet.”

“I’ve calculated that you should be able to tighten up over the summer for sure,” Kiyose conceded. “If it looks like it’s not working out, then we’ll think about it then. Don’t do anything reckless on your own.”

“Is it advantageous to be lighter?” Shindou, who was listening to the conversation, asked, tilting his head. “Won’t you have less energy if you lose weight?”

The theorist Yuki answered his question.

“Of course, unreasonable diets are banned. You’ll get anemia, and if you have that, it’ll be dangerous for your heart since that’ll put a burden on it. But fundamentally, you should tighten up your body—whittle away the extra fat and improve your cardiopulmonary functions. Even racing cars have their bodies as light as possible to make their engines more powerful. It’s the same as that.”

“I see.” Shindou withdrew in understanding.

“It’s just as Yuki said.” Kiyose looked over everyone. “Just like racing cars, where the body’s balance is confirmed and the engine’s performance is enhanced through repeatedly doing test drives, a runner also builds up their body by running every day. The backlash will be big if you seek a sudden change, so I want you all to be careful.”

Icing your muscles immediately if they seem to be staying hot after training, even just a little bit. Never missing stretches and massages. Taking supplements for iron and other nutrients which people tend to lack.

After teaching them the various ways of preventing injuries and maintaining their health, Kiyose said, “Now, you’re all dismissed.”

On the way back to Chikusei-sou, Kakeru ended up running next to Nico-chan by chance. Nico-chan was worried about his weight and currently abstaining from smoking, and he didn’t seem to be able to relieve his stress well. He looked somewhat somber.

At times like these, one should provide a fun and lighthearted topic of conversation. However, Kakeru tried thinking of all sorts of things, but couldn’t come up with anything.

“Kakeru, what’s for dinner today?”

In the end, Nico-chan was the one who started talking. I really am no good at anything other than running. Kakeru was dejected indeed.

“It’s probably curry. Haiji-san asked me to go to the shopping district to buy curry powder before the main practice.”

Something flickered at the back of Kakeru’s mind. That’s right, the shopping district. Didn’t Musa invite me to go and see his evening jog? Maybe it could be a diversion for Nico-chan.

“Nico-chan-senpai, would you like to run with me tonight?”

“Why are you talking like you’re picking me up all of a sudden?”

Yuki, who was a bit ahead of them, turned back. “Where are you taking me, darling?” he teasingly cut into the conversation with an expressionless face, as though he was wearing an iron mask.

“The shopping district,” Kakeru answered seriously. The three of them were the members who jogged on their own. It was perfect, so they decided to take a look at the “interesting thing” happening to the group jogging together.

As expected, dinner was curry. Kiyose’s personality of not cutting corners was demonstrated in his cooking as well. Before the main training, he boiled the onions until they were soft and tender, and adjusted the taste by uniquely blending the several commercially available curry powders that Kakeru bought.

But no one noticed the depth of the flavor of the curry sauce; everyone seemed more joyful at the fact that the curry contained a lot of boneless pork ribs. Even the colorfully arranged salads were devoured in an instant without a single chance to be visually appreciated.

“It wasn’t worth making this.” Kiyose, with an expression that was halfway between resentment and sadness, put the empty plates in the sink.

Nico-chan, who seemed to have decided to eat properly, said, “I’ll just have a little more.” He stood before the rice cooker. “More than taste or anything else, just let these guys eat meat.”

The kitchen didn’t fit a table for everyone to eat at. When the dining table was filled, the people who came to eat later would get out a small tea table and sit in the hallway in front of the kitchen.

Shindou and Musa arrived when Kakeru was still eating his curry. The dining table was completely filled, and though the twins were nearing dessert, they didn’t attempt to clear their seats. They were currently in a fierce argument over whether to cover strawberries in condensed milk or milk and sugar.

Kakeru, who was mindful of hierarchical relationships no matter what, held his spoon in his mouth and picked up his curry-filled plate, about to give up his seat at the table. Shindou hurriedly stopped him. “It’s fine, Kakeru.”

“Senpai-kouhai relationships do not matter in Aotake,” Musa said. “That is why it is so comfortable, right?”

“Yes.”

Kakeru sat back down at the table and ate the rest of his curry. For him, who had spent his three years of high school in his track and field club’s dorm, the fact that the upperclassmen ate in the hallway and the underclassmen ate at the table was unbelievable.

From his experience, as an underclassman he had to attend to his seniors’ personal needs, such as washing their shoes and doing their laundry. And of course his turn for the bath was near the end. That was the extent of it, and he didn’t really mind it as long as he could devote himself to practice without his seniors getting jealous of him.

Conversely, when he became an upperclassman, Kakeru didn’t want to let his underclassmen wash his shoes; they were important objects that were required for running. How his former senpai could so easily leave their shoes in someone else’s hands, he had no idea. His teammates in the same grade as him gossiped about him behind his back, saying things like “He’s messing up the order of things” and “Don’t try to look cool”. Kakeru ignored it all. No one could catch up to his speed, and if he could run without reservations when he became an upperclassman, then he was satisfied with just that. He thought he would let them say whatever they wanted.

Within the club, Kakeru had come to be kept at a distance, treated as an aloof and solitary existence. To put it another way, he was somewhat isolated.

But in Chikusei-sou, it was easy to breathe. Nobody cared about the difference between the years of their birth. They said what they wanted to say to each other. Even now, Nico-chan had just put an end to the twins’ fight. It was done forcefully by throwing both condensed milk and milk and sugar into the two’s strawberry bowls.

“You’re awful, Nico-chan-senpai! I wanted to eat it with milk and sugar!”

“I put it in for you, didn’t I.”

“I definitely prefer condensed milk.”

“I said I put it in, didn’t I.”

Leaving the exchange between the twins—who were far from reaching an agreement—and Nico-chan aside, Kakeru helped Kiyose in cleaning up. They stood next to each other at the sink, washing the dishes.

“Haiji-san, what time do you run near the shopping district?”

“Around eight. Why?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Musa, who had come to put his plate away, winked at Kakeru.

Kakeru, Nico-chan, and Yuki went to the children’s playground at the entrance to the shopping district. Running in circles between the sandbox, swings, and slide was monotonous, but there was no other way to keep an eye on the shopping district while jogging.

They ran around thirty laps beneath the dim outside lights in the park, and just when they were feeling pretty dizzy, Kiyose and the others from Chikusei-sou appeared. They turned the corner and entered the large shopping district that led to the station. Their running abilities varied, so the procession was long and stretched out, but Prince somehow managed to keep up.

“They’re here.”

“Let’s try following them secretly.”

Kakeru and the others left the park and entered the shopping district.

There were many private shops lining both sides of the narrow street: the bakery, which had its shutters down after finishing a day’s work; the fish dealer, shouting loudly to sell the last of their wares before closing time; the snack bar, where customers were starting to come in for the night.

Lamps that imitated paper-covered lanterns cast an orange light over the street. People walking home from the station and shoppers aiming for limited-time sales crowded the shopping district.

“No matter how you look at it, Prince is too slow,” Yuki grumbled. “It’ll be hard to run without passing him.”

Kakeru and the others hid behind the passersby and slipped past Prince. When King’s back became visible, they also managed to pass him without being noticed.

“It’s Haiji.” Yuki indicated forward with his chin. Kiyose was running towards them.

“Why’s he coming back?”

“It’s too soon for him to have turned back from the station.”

The three tried to slip past by looking down, but Kiyose didn’t fail to notice them.

“Why are you guys sneaking around?” Kiyose turned and ran next to Kakeru and the others, who were running towards the station, to accompany them.

“What are you doing, Haiji-san?” Kakeru asked.

“I came to see how the guys running in the back are doing,” Kiyose answered.

His management abilities were flawless as usual. Kakeru wondered just how far he was running to keep an eye on everyone. He was a bit worried; his legs weren’t even fully recovered yet, apparently.

Meanwhile, Kiyose was carrying on the conversation with Yuki.

“Kakeru said something interesting was happening with you guys, so we came to see.”

“Oh, you mean that?”

Kiyose pointed straight ahead, where Shindou and Musa were running side by side.

“What are they doing?”

It was understandable that Nico-chan was puzzled. Shindou and Musa were wearing white T-shirts, but there were words written on their backs in jet black permanent marker. Kakeru strained his eyes and read the words on the two’s backs as they were running through the middle of the shopping district.

We’re aiming for the Hakone Ekiden!!

Supporters wanted for Kansei University Track and Field Club

“…That’s some proper lettering,” Yuki commented.

“Apparently, Shindou did it by hand,” Kiyose explained matter-of-factly, his breathing not even disturbed. “I told him to stop since it’s embarrassing, but he insisted that we needed it to raise funds. He actually made enough for everyone, supposedly.”

I’m definitely not wearing it, Kakeru thought. Shindou was always quiet and calm, with an air of aloofness like he wasn’t connected to this earthly world, but he seemed to be quite practical.

“That’s surprising. To think that Shindou-san would collect money so actively.”

“Through running, you can see unexpected sides of people,” Kiyose said with a smile. “Shindou, Musa,” he called out to the two running ahead.

“It seems that these three want to cooperate with your business activities.”

We never said that, we never said that! Kakeru and the others shook their heads in unison. Musa raised his hand a little towards Kakeru, who joined them.

“I will give you one of Shindou-san’s handmade T-shirts as well, Kakeru. Also, please take a look at that person.”

There was a bicycle weaving through the crowd of people in the shopping district. The person riding it was a girl around the same age as them. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and she was peddling her bike with all her might, her eyes fixed on something. Even from a distance, it was clear that her profile, which could be seen occasionally, was refined and beautiful.

“That’s the daughter of the owner of Yaokatsu,” Kiyose said.

“How do you know her?” Kakeru, who was preoccupied with the girl’s profile, moved his gaze to Kiyose running next to him.

“I’ve been coming here to buy food to cook for everyone at Aotake for a long time now, so I’ve seen her around.”

“Then have you ever chatted with her?”

“Just stuff like ‘these daikon have very nice leaves’ and ‘here’s your two-hundred yen change,’” Kiyose laughed from the corner of his mouth. “Are you curious about her, Kakeru?”

“No, not really.”

He returned his gaze forward. The bike was still heading for the station, popping in and out of the crowd.

“We’ve become a bit famous thanks to this.” Shindou pulled at the hem of his T-shirt. “Every day, we form a line and run like this, and the shopkeepers who recognize Haiji-san call out to us. ‘You’re a student staying in that shabby apartment, aren’t you? Looks like you’re starting something interesting,’ they say.”

“The landlord is a regular at the go parlor here,” Kiyose said. “Apparently, he’s going around spreading word that the ‘residents of Aotake are aiming for the Hakone Ekiden’.”

It was probably a strategy to get the locals involved in the plan so they wouldn’t be able to say “I quit” so easily. Kakeru was impressed with Kiyose and the landlord’s abilities to steadily remove the obstacles in their way. Since he was the first to announce his participation, it seemed that Shindou also intended to take the initiative in doing publicity. The carefree and easygoing residents were rapidly getting carried along by the flow towards the Hakone Ekiden. Will it be okay? Kakeru felt uneasy. However, it was nice and heartening that the people outside of Chikusei-sou showed interest in Kakeru and the others aiming for the Hakone Ekiden.

“She has been showing up when we are jogging recently,” Musa lightly pointed at the daughter of Yaokatsu who was riding her bike. “Her goal is…”

Drawn in, Kakeru, Nico-chan and Yuki’s gazes looked further ahead of the bike. The person who was running there was…

“The twins!?” Kakeru shouted in shock.

“Which one!?” Nico-chan also moaned. Musa shrugged.

“Well, I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter, they’re identical,” Yuki coolly pointed out.

I’m sensing love in the air, Kakeru thought. Jouta and Jouji, running next to each other, didn’t seem like they noticed at all. He would have to advise them to take a proper bath as soon as possible.

For now, it seemed certain that the residents of Chikusei-sou, who worked hard to jog every morning and evening, were becoming familiar to the people of the shopping district.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #run with the wind #kazetsuyo translations

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please-return-to-villanelle · 4 years ago

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Dani and Jamie fluff anyone?

Cafe AU

Title: Steepingly Splendid

Read below or check it out on AO3

Taking writing prompts for one-shots, send them my way if you want some more content about these two!

Jamie never considered herself an adventurous woman. Sure, she was a bit of a wild thing back in her youth, but as she settled into adult hood, she came to realize that routine and stability were essential to her own happiness. She worked her entire life to achieve this.

As a teenager, she escaped a dysfunctional home environment by fleeing her small town in the middle of rural nowhere opting to take up residence in London. While adapting to urban life, Jamie met Owen, a boy with a heart of gold. He soon became her chosen family and life-long friend. Together, they opened a café in the heart of the city.

Jamie and Owen made quite the dynamic duo. Jamie took on the roles of business manager and barista freeing up Owen to pursue his love of cooking by experimenting with pastry recipes sold at the shop. Needless to say, Owen’s creations were a massive success. Customers lined up around the block before opening salivating at the mouth for Owen’s baked goods. Jamie was able to supplement these goodies with a proper cuppa and collect their cash, of course.

The shop managed to make a humble profit during the first year which enabled them to live a comfortable life in London. Over time, they fell into a comfortable routine. Everything was nice and boring, albeit a little hectic the more popular the “Steepingly Splendid Café” became. Their solution was hiring a new employee to help Jamie carry the extra day to day work while Owen focused on crafting his famous baked goods.

Desperate for help, they hired the first qualified applicant on the spot. She was an American woman named Dani Clayton, newly arrived in London with a fierce determination to serve others and genuine drive to make people happy. Jamie secretly suspected Owen hired her because he was desperate for a co-worker that actually enjoyed his love of puns.

Over the next week, Dani trained with Owen on the register. She seemed to take to it very quickly and even managed to deliver Owen’s signature appreciative catch phrase to customers with a straight face, “We appreciate your business a latte!”

Dani was capable of running the register solo in a matter of hours. Over the next few days, Dani worked along aside Jamie allowing Owen to spend less time in the front of the shop and more time in the kitchen experimenting with batters, doughs, and jams.

Jamie felt a familiarity working with Dani despite never having a formal “get to know you” conversation with her. They worked seamlessly in tandem, as if Dani had always been there. At the end of the week, Owen and Jamie decided it was time to expand Dani’s skillset into full-fledged barista. They were hopeful the young American would catch on to brewing drinks as easily as she did to processing payments and charming customers.

To say Dani did not take easily to this, was an understatement.

It was as if her ancestors had desecrated a tea grove many moons ago making it impossible for Dani to make a drinkable cup of tea to save her soul. The moment she touched the leaves, everything went to hell. Truth be told, Jamie felt sympathy for the girl. She was clearly trying to get it right but was becoming more discouraged with each failed brew.

Dani poured the latest catastrophe down the sink. She rested her hands along the edge of the sink, body slumped forward as she released ragged breathes with her eyes shut. Jamie felt a sudden urge to do something, anything to comfort Dani. Seeing her defeated left an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. In her indecision, she shifted closer to Dani’s side. The sulking woman must have spotted her out of the corner of her eye. Dani quickly composed herself, trying to brush off her disappointment.

“Well, I guess tea isn’t really my thing.” Dani mumbled, the shakiness in her voice was not lost on Jamie. The underlying tone of sadness tugged at Jamie’s heart. In all the time that Dani has been around, she was like a constant ray of sunshine bringing laughter and joy to the café. Jamie was determined to restore Dani’s sunny disposition she had become increasingly fond of over the past week.

Jamie shrugged trying to convey an air of nonchalance. “It’s to be expected really. You did just come over from America and all. Yanks aren’t exactly famous for making proper tea.” Dani let out a genuine laugh, her posture straightening. She swiveled her head looking at Jamie with an appreciatively, flashing her pearly whites. Jamie felt a fluttering in her chest very much encouraged by Dani’s response to her lighthearted joke.

“Ha, I guess all those years across the pond put me at a disadvantage, huh?” Jamie couldn’t fight back the dopey grin that was surely plastered all over her face as Dani poorly mocked her cockney accent. It was adorable.

“Damn right. We’ve got to knock the bad habits out of ya. Turn you in into a proper Brit if you’re up for it?” Jamie quipped.

Dani’s smile grew wide enough to reach her eyes. “I’d like that.”

“All right. Brewing boot camp is officially under way.”

The timing worked out perfectly. It was their med-afternoon lull. Jamie made an arrangement with Owen to man the front of the shop and deal with customers while she took over the back half of the shop to teach Dani the art of tea making. Before getting started, Dani pulled out a pocket-sized note pad for which she scribbled copious noted throughout their lesson determined to get this right.

“All right,” Jamie began, “first thing is first. We have to boil the water.” She handed over the kettle to Dani, who proceeded to fill up the container until Jamie told her to stop. Then Jamie directed her over to the burner. Dani placed down the kettle, switched on the gas awaiting her next instruction.

“Perfect,” Jamie said. “Now we wait until it gives us the warning whistle. In the meantime, we gather the leaves.”

Dani scrunched her face in confusion, “I thought tea came in little baggies?”

Jamie smiled holding back laughter, “Well good thing I’m here to set things straight.” Jamie could have sworn she saw the hint of a creeping blush spreading across Dani’s cheeks. She brushed it off, blaming the warmth coming from the stove, and focused back to the task at hand.

Jamie grabbed a tin container of earl grey from the selection of tea on the shelves. She placed it on the counter alongside a ceramic tea kettle. She measured out the amount of tea to make a single cup placing it in the kettle. Dani watched with focused attention scribbling on her note pad, hanging on Jamie’s every word. Jamie explained a proper cuppa was all about balancing the type of tea leaves with the optimal water to leave ratio and timing out the steeping part just right. All were crucial for extracting the all the flavor notes. Dani nodded in understanding while scribbling on her pad. Once Jamie was convinced Dani had the methods down, she grabbed a second kettle instructing Dani to brew up her own batch.

Dani poked her tongue out in concentration as she measured the tea exactly as Jamie had done before, her slender nimble fingers delicately weighing the leaves placing them with care inside the kettle. Her glowing smiled warmed Jamie’s insides.

“Not bad for a yank.” Jamie commented.

“Thanks,” Dani beamed at the compliment.

Jamie was forced to tear her gaze from the captivating blonde when the kettle began singing its tune indicating the water was ready. Dani’s eyes lit up with excitement. She rushed over to the kettle placing her hand on the handle to remove it from the stove. Jamie didn’t have time to warn her before the blonde jumped back.

“Owwww!” She howled in pain. On instinct, Jamie grabbed Dani by the wrist ushering her to the sink. She turned the faucet on full blast submerging Dani’s burnt digits under the cool stream of water.

Owen, recognizing what was happening, ran to the stove turning off the range and disappeared into the back office emerging seconds later with a first aid kit. He left it one the counter next to Jamie and pop back up front to attend to a newly arriving customer.

Jamie barely noticed what was going on around her. She was singularly focused on Dani. Her breathing was ragged but calming as her hand cooled off. After a few seconds, Jamie turned off the water. She pulled Dani’s hand closer to inspect the damage which thankfully was minimal. Pink slender fingers angry from their encounter with the hot kettle but all skin intact without any hint of forming blisters. Jamie released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“I’m so sorry Dani I should have warned you sooner to use a rag. That kettle gets wicked hot.”

“I-it’s ok.” Dani practically whispered. Jamie was so focused on tending to her injury, she didn’t realize how physically close they’d become. She could feel Dani’s body heat radiating off her from the close proximity. Dani must have noticed this too but made no attempt to move away.

Jamie shook her head, “It’s not ok. How am I supposed to teach you the right way to do things if I’m flat out putting you in harm’s way?” She looked back up from Dani’s scalded hand held gingerly within her own meeting Dan't eye line. Jamie was mesmerized by Dani’s piercing blue eyes, her lips quivering slightly as if she were also processing a million thoughts and feelings in this very moment. A stray lock of golden hair cascaded across the side of her face. Without thinking, Jamie tucked it behind Dani’s ear gently brushing the side of her face.

Dani’s breath hitched. “Well there is one thing you could do?” She said breathlessly.

“You name it.” Jamie said her voice sounded small, unsure of what was to come next. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

Dani, “You could kiss it and make it all better?”

The pounding in Jamie’s chest ceased for a beat. Her body tensed and palms felt clammy. Unsure if this was cardiac arrest or the comings of a panic attack, she tried her best to process what Dani just said; but before she could do that, Dani ripped her injured hand from Jami’s grasp, stammering at the speed of light.

“I-I didn’t mean it like-, I mean, I just asked you to, to. Oh boy. F-forget I said anything, anything at all.”

Fortunately, Dani’s incoherent word vomit was cut short by Owen’s arrival. “Here you go! Ice cubes in a towel to the rescue.” He extended the offering to Dani who accepted, placing it into her injured hand.

“Th-thank you.” She said flashing Owen an appreciative smile and then casting a nervous glance in Jamie’s direction. Desperate to make things less awkward, Jamie wracked her brain for something, anything to say. Her mind was blank. All she could do was feel Dani’s presence clouding her thoughts, her last request to “kiss her” replaying over and over in her mind. With each passing second, it became more and more apparent that her innocent crush on this girl ran much deeper than she initially thought.

“Does it hurt?” Jamie eventually managed to ask, relieved her mind caught up to the the present.

“A little,” Dani whispered, “the ice is soothing.”

Owen beamed with pride. “It seems that was just what you kneaded.” Jamie rolled her eyes as he laughed at his own joke along with Dani.

They decided to try and salvage the rest of the day’s tea lessons the best they could. Jamie performed the functions of making tea while Dani observed taking copious notes. The two of them continued this teaching method until Dani’s hand healed. Over the course of the following week, Dani became more confident with her tea making skills. Her hand fully healed after a few days of icing and resting. She was able to go through the entire process on her own. She even received a few compliments from the customers. Owen even sampled as an impartial third party claiming her brew was “Tea-riffic.”

“Look at you, whipping up tea like you’ve lived her your whole life.” Jamie’s insides performing summersaults as Dani smiled at her like an angel.

“Well, I had an excellent teacher.” Dani said.

“Is that so?” Jamie replied leaning casually against the counter.

“Yeah, she’s a proper Brit and everything.” Dani was inching closer, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. A nervous habit Jamie picked up on during their tea brewing lessons. “She’s seems tough on the outside like she could take on the entire world if she wanted to, but deep down she’s a softy who cares a lot more than she lets on.” Jamie felt her face flush at the insightful compliment. She tried to brush it off by playing it cool which would have worked if Owen hadn’t interjected his own commentary.

“You can even say her caring for others is her special-tea.” Owen chimed in.

Jamie tossed a day-old pastry in his direction. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Owen captured the fumbling pastry, brushing crumbs off his jumper. He leaned over into Dani’s space whispering loud enough for Jamie to overhear. “Be wary of this one. Hell, hath no fury like a woman sconed.”

Jamie rolled her eyes in faux annoyance while Dani giggled in comradery with Owen.

Owen slung his bag over his shoulder heading for the front door before Jamie could retaliate with another pastry toss. “Well ladies I hate to leave you when I’m on a roll like this,” winking over his shoulder at Dani. “but my baking experiments are calling me home. Try to not let anything go a rye! Chow!”

Owen mercifully exited the building leaving Dani and Jamie to man the shop for the rest of the afternoon. “That has to be some kind of world record for most puns about cafés said in a bloody café.” Jamie uttered, grabbing a damp rag to wipe down the counters.

Dani smiled, “His commitment is impressive. Any other lessons for today?”

Jamie grinned as an idea popped into her head. She discarded the towel haphazardly on the counter opting to swagger over to espresso machine.

“Well, since you’re an American and all, we can skip the basics of brewing coffee and move onto something a bit more fun.” The metallic machine grumbling to life after she pressed the on button.

Dani’s eyes shifted nervously. “O-ok. What did you have in mind?”

Jamie grabbed a bar stool from the dining section. She placed it adjacent to the espresso machine tapping the seat as an invitation for Dani to sit. The angelic blonde settled into the seat, moving to take out her notepad and pen. Jamie tugged on the sleeve of her denim jacket. Danie froze, staring at her like a deer in headlights.

“You won’t be needing that.” She said in reference to the pad and pen, “Just want you to watch for now, ok?” Dani visibly relaxed. She stashed the writing instrument and tiny pad in her coat pocket. “Ok. I’m ready.”

Jamie beamed with excitement. This was her chance to show off in front of the woman that was occupying most of her daily thoughts. She streamed a single shot of espresso from the silver machine into a tall white mug and then placed next to Dani. Next, she poured a healthy amount of milk into a steel pitcher which she placed underneath the steaming wand frothing the milk. Jamie could feel Dani’s gaze with every action. It was intoxicating. Once she had the right velvety consistency, she turned her attention back to the attractive blonde woman memorized by her every movement.

Jamie looked at Dani. Tilting her head from side to side to mulling over which creation she should start with. Dani squirmed in her seat twirling her hair to dispel her nerves under Jamie’s scrutiny.

“Ahh, got it!” She said, struck with inspiration. Jamie tilted her head towards the mug as silent instruction for Dani to observe. She was enthralled as Jamie poured the frothed milk, twisting and turning the mug until her creation came to life. Her heart fluttered in her chest when Dani’s eyes widened in awe.

“Is that a tulip?” Dani asked.

“It is. You mentioned they were your favorite flower. What do ya think?” Jamie asked.

“It’s.. It’s just so, so..” Dani stammered unable to fully express herself.

“Brew-tea-ful?” Jamie supplemented with a lopsided grin. She was hopeful Dani would appreciate her play on words she spent way too much time coming up with in order to casually drop into one of their conversations.

Dani’s smile widened, a rosy tinge gracing her cheeks. “Yes, it really is.” The huskiness of her tone coupled with the small bit her bottom lip left Jamie weak in the knees. She swallowed a dry lump in the back of her throat, tearing her gaze from Dani’s lips.

“Think you’re up for cultivating your own flower?” Jamie asked, dangling the pitcher of frothed milk. Dani shot up like an excited child. She snatched the pitcher, grinning from ear to ear and nodding up and down with enthusiasm. Jamie poured out another shot of espresso into a tall mug and slide the brew across the counter in front of Dani.

Dani poked her tongue out in concentration as she assumed her ready position. Her body frozen with the steel container hovering over the fresh coffee. After a few seconds of stillness, Jamie felt like something was off.

“Is everything all right?” Jamie asked, concern creeping into her voice.

Dani sheepishly replied, “I-I don’t know how to start. Could you show me again?” Dani pivoted her torso, offering the milk vessel to Jamie

Jamie smiled. “We learn best by doing not watching. I’ll guide you as a compromise.” Dani nodded in agreement resuming her position of hovering the milk above the mug. Jamie moved to stand behind Dani. She placed her right hand over Dani’s hand steadying the steel pitcher with the other, she grabbed the mug.

“Is this ok?” Jamie asked hesitantly.

“Yes.” Dani said breathlessly.

“Ok, now place your free hand on top of mine.” Her smooth skin brushing across Jamie’s fingers sending a pleasant shiver along her spine before finally settling her hand on top of Jamie’s, clasping the mug. Jamie released a shaky breath inadvertently tickling the nape of Dani’s neck causing her beautiful blue eyes to flutter. As if on instinct, Dani settled back slightly into Jamie’s body. The pleasant scent of lavender invading her nostrils from the close proximity.

“Ok,” Jamie managed through controlled breathes, “Focus on feeling the motions.” She proceeded to recreate the foam flower. Moving the pitcher up and down as she poured the stream into the mug, while twisting the mug from side to side. Dani moved in tandem, her arms hovering and hips swaying as they nurtured the tulip to life. Once it was finished, Jamie placed both containers on the counter. She relinquished her hold on Dani’s hands and took a full step back. The distance allowed the fogginess in her mind to clear and the thrumming in her chest to quiet.

Dani picked up the mug examining their creation. Her fingers tapped nervously along the ceramic. She turned to Jamie, her face flush. “Well I certainly felt that.”

There was something about they way she said it that made Jamie’s heart swell with confirmation that this attraction wasn’t one sided. Jamie mustered her courage. “Dani…”

As soon as she said something, the doorbell rung indicating the arrival of a new customer. Dani jumped at the sound, walking swiftly to the register to greet the young couple that arrived. Jamie excused herself shutting herself inside the single stall bathroom for a much-needed moment of peace. She ran cold water over her face to calm down.

They didn’t revisit this conversation. Instead they fell back into their in tandem working routine. Dani took advantage of lulls to perfect her coffee art. This continued for the rest of the week. Everything was nice and boring just as Jamie had always liked, just as she had always preferred. That is, until Dani Clayton waltzed into her life filling her days with happiness and excitement.

Over the weekend, Dani was all Jamie could think about. She was so desperate to unburden the weight of her feelings, she rung Owen to talk it all over. He confessed he sensed this was what was going on all along, having known her for years. He had never seen her look this happy around another person and encouraged her to go with her heart on this one.

On Monday, Jamie arrived at the shop a full hour before they were scheduled to open. As business manager, she was responsible for receiving early shipments which typically arrived first thing Monday morning. She walked through the door into the dimly lit café, the blinds still drawn. She was confounded to find a light was left on in the shop and even more perplexed to find an apron clad beauty behind the counter.

“You know your shift doesn’t start for another hour, right?” Jamie asked walking towards the counter.

Dani ran a hand through her hair, “I-I know that. I also knew that you would be here at this time.”

“Oh.” Jamie said stopping dead in her tracks.

“Yeah,” Dani proceeded, waving Jamie behind the counter, “I don’t like how we left things the other day and so I feltlike I had to do something about that.”

Jamie approached Dani. “And what exactly is it you had to do?”

Dani smiled, “Be brave, for once.” She side stepped a few paces revealing several coffee mugs lined single file up along the counter. Jamie approached the mugs and saw, a question spelt out in frothed milk “K-I-S-S-?”

Jamie felt a gleeful smile spreading across her face. She must have looked like a smitten teenager which is precisely how she felt. “Who knew you were such a flirt?”

Dani quirked her eyebrow in amusement. “Is that a yes.”

Jamie stepped into Dani’s space leaning in, ghosting her lips, “Yes.”

Dani closed the distance between them capturing Jamie’s lips. It was brief like both women were testing the waters, getting to know each other. It was electrifying.

They broke apart, resting their foreheads together. Jamie snaked her arms securely around Dani’s waste pulling her in closer. As if on instinct, Dani wrapped her arms around Jamie’s neck holding her steady in place.

“And here I was working up the nerve to ask you out to dinner.” Jamie whispered.

They shared a laugh swaying in the café at Jamie’s admission.

“We should do that too.” Dani hummed. “After all, Owen owes me 10 pounds. We could put it towards out first date.”

Jamie felt butterflies in her stomach at Dani’s casual use of the word date which was replaced by confusion as to Owen’s role in all of this.

“Why does Owen owe you money?” Jamie asked out of curiosity.

Dani pulled back smiling in triumph. “He lost a bet with me. I have proof that you do secretly enjoy dishing out café puns.”

“I really don’t.” She admitted craning her neck closer to Dani, “I only made an exception for you.”

Dani whispered, “I hope I was worth the effort.”

“You most certainly are.” Jamie said closing the distance between them initiating their second, and much longer kiss.

#the haunting of bly manor #dani clayton #jamie the gardener #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #fan fiction #ao3 #i have a lot of emotions #hit me up with prompts

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