#Pure Tungsten | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hatsukeii · 5 months ago

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fragrance: coffee break, replica / timeskip!akaashi keiji x barista!reader

notes: coffee (top), lavender (heart), milk mousse (base)

description: the first shot of espresso after a long shift, freshly dripped coffee from the brewer

disclaimer(s): a love or hate fragrance for many

wc: 2470

warning(s): mentions/depictions of puke and anxiety, overworking culture and capitalism LMFAO but no nsfw!! angsty akaashi is a corporate slave and reader is a free soul who just likes brewing coffee </3 gn reader too!!

Akaashi Keiji doesn't like coffee at all, especially not when the black liquid that pools in the abyss of a flimsy paper cup on his desk is only a means to stay awake, to keep editing. But if anything, the instant coffee stand in his office is a necessity to keep him alive these days. He stares at his monitor, and his phone goes off in clicks and whirs just as it has for the past seven hours; messages from Koutaro, who has just won his qualifiers with MSBY, the qualifiers that Keiji wanted so badly to be at. He glances at the time that blinks at the corner of the screen.

22:45:01

Just another fifteen minutes, he thinks. Just another fifteen minutes until he can finally flick the lights off and lock himself out of this hell for the next two days. His eyelids grow heavier by the second as his fingers click impossibly quickly at his keyboard, regurgitating words on a blank canvas the way he throws up black coffee into the toilet every night. Despite that, his hand reaches for the paper cup that sits on his coaster, a pandora's box of putrid bitterness waiting to be consumed. After all, the vile, soured sensation of puke flushing out from his esophagus is infinitely more enjoyable than falling asleep at his desk and being berated by his dickhead of a boss again. He flips the swampy black liquid into his mouth, wincing at the tartness that claws lines down his throat all the way to his stomach.

Surely enough, right as the numbers at the corner of his monitor blink into 23:00:00, Akaashi Keiji is already frantically shoving his documents into his messenger bag, inevitably folding them in the wrong spots as he haphazardly slips them through the free cracks amongst his laptop and other miscellanous items. He flicks the lights off and sprints out the door, missing the key hole twice before finally managing to lock the office up properly, and makes a run for the bathroom, where he kneels in front of an empty urinal, and throws up everything he’s consumed in the past six hours. This consists of a single cream cheese bagel from the office fridge, and five cups worth of pure instant coffee.

The streetlights buzz above Keiji's head, moths feeding into their brightness as they dance around a ghastly tungsten glow. The walk home is tiring. He is so very tired. His guts have been emptied out in an office bathroom and the buzzing of the streetlight makes him want to crawl up its post and shatter it to shards, taking the moths down with it. Walls of glass on both sides line the night streets, mannequins staring him down as he slumps and turns the corner to his own.

Warmth.

The corner he has just turned heats him up like a fireplace does when the wind howls and screams at his windows, and he turns to the warm glow of a usually unnoticed cornerstore. It's fifteen past eleven, yet one person resides behind the counter. The sign at the door is flipped to ‘closed’, and Keiji can do nothing but stand at the entrance, watching you meticulously swirl steaming water into filter paper. He turns away in embarrassment when you look up at him, and place the long-spouted kettle in your hand down. He steps away from the corner as you swing open the door, the bell jingling in a merrier fashion than the droning streetlights.

"Are you good? You look a bit pale."

He turns back, and your body is halfway out the door. He doesn't say a word, yet his feet move towards the store unconsciously, and he doesn't realise it until his body is lined up with the doorframe.

"Do you, by any chance, have any food? I can pay."

Keiji sits at the coffee bar, where your steaming kettle sits amongst a plethora of brewing tools. Brown liquid falls into a roundbottomed flask drop by drop, tantalisingly slow. You flick on the television behind him, and the unmistakeable sound of leather against hardwood rings loud from the speakers as you reach into the fridge behind, searching for anything edible.

"You allergic to anything?"

"No, anything's good. Thanks."

Grabbing a leftover croissant, you throw it in the microwave, pressing carelessly at the buttons until the little glass dish begins to spin and whir. Facing the counter again, fingers return to the handle of the kettle as you continue swirling steaming water into coffee grounds on filter paper. Keiji's eyes are trained to the television, the reflection of a volleyball on the screen following the motion of his eyes.

"Volleyball fan too?"

"Yeah, my best friend plays on that team. Black Jackals."

Your eyebrows raise, still trained on the brewing batch of drip coffee. One circle, two circles, and down. You're not sure why your peculiar visitor is here instead of in the stands, but the bags beneath his eyes and his ghastly figure at your door are enough to give you a clue. You set the kettle down again, and the coffee begins to drip faster with the addition of water.

"Oh, really! Which player?"

"Kou- Bokuto. Bokuto Koutaro."

"That's cool, he's my favourite player. Got his jersey sitting somewhere at home."

The microwave beeps, and you reach for a ceramic plate, sliding the crispy croissant onto it and handing it to Keiji. He reaches for it hesitantly, the crust crunching beneath his fingers as layers of flaky pastry steam and fold against each other, before taking a bite. Buttery soft layers of bread, warm flakes dancing on his tongue, a hint of salt between each sheet of croissant pastry. His face stretches into a barely noticeable, but satiated smile as he chews. For the first time this week, Akaashi Keiji swears he is in heaven.

"This...this is a really fuckin' good croissant." He chuckles out with his mouth stuffed, a rare occasion given his usual schedule of throwing up, then going to bed. You wink at him, clicking your tongue proudly.

"In-house favourite, took me months to get right. I'm glad it's good."

Keiji pushes his glasses up with his knuckles, glancing back at the television. Koutaro graces the screen now, piercing golden eyes wide with enthusiasm. His voice rings through the speakers.

"I'm dedicating this win to my best friend! He was supposed to be here, but he must've been busy, so he couldn't make it. But that's okay! I know he's watching me back home, right, Keiji?"

He wants to cry, his mouth still stuffed with your croissant. His Adam's apple shifts ever so slightly, and you take notice of his neck tensing. The whites of your visitor's eyes are more red than anything, the bridge of his glasses sliding down when his nose scrunches at Bokuto's words. You eye the croissant on his plate, half-eaten in the two minutes it's been out of the microwave for.

"Would you like some coffee? Freshly brewed, new recipe."

Akaashi Keiji doesn't like coffee at all. Yet as he turns around to meet your eyes, lips pursed in guilt, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it might be what he wants right now. You swirl water into the coffee grounds again, brown liquid dripping into the flask alluringly.

"Are you sure? It looks like it's taken a while to collect."

"You'd be doing me a favour by telling me if it tastes like shit."

You wait for the droplets to cease, before swirling the flask once, twice. Brown coffee trickles into a white mug as you hand it to your visitor, who takes it timidly with both hands cupping its warmth. Notes of lavender and almonds peek from the cover of coffee, flushing his sinuses clean from the biting acidity of the instant coffee he's become so accustomed to.

"Sorry in advance if I end up puking this out. It happens with instant coffee, and it's not going to be because of the taste, I promise."

You shoot your visitor a questionable look, and he grimaces in shame.

"You must be drinking a lot of shitty coffee, with too little water. Could be acid reflux. This should be much better, but let me know if you need anything."

Keiji does not down the coffee in one go this time. Instead, he takes such small sips from the mug, that he may as well be taking kitten licks at the liquid. It slides past his tongue and into his throat, smooth as silk. Hints of vanilla fill his tastebuds, offsetting the innate bitterness of caffeine, and for once coffee does what it's meant to. He feels alive again.

"This is incredible. I think I can actually hold this in my stomach."

"Coffee shouldn't make you worry about keeping it in your stomach, so I'm glad."

He smiles, a real one now, taking in another sip. His bag hangs from the wooden frame of the chair, papers still crumpled between laptops and binders and files. He watches you swirl water into the filter paper again, and wonders how long you might be willing to keep him here for. The street is desolate, spare for the leaves that flutter in the midnight breeze. He would like to stay in this seat forever.

"So, why aren't you in the stands? Bokuto was clearly looking for you."

He freezes, initially unsure how you've figured him out, before recalling his declaration of comraderie with Koutaro upon the flick of a television remote to the volleyball match. The mug of coffee is half empty when Keiji places it down on the counter, and he rubs his face in his hands. His nails are short, evidently chewed on, and you catch onto the way his thumbs instinctively massage against the fleshy cushions at the bottom of his palms, and the centre of his inner wrists.

"Office work, manga editing is no joke."

"Yeah, I can tell, you've worked yourself into anxiety and carpal tunnel."

"Must be nice brewing coffee without a dickhead boss on your back for everything."

You grin sadly, because he's right. You've seen it on the faces of every visitor, tired eyes searching for hope on laptop screens, teeth gnawing at peeling lips at seven in the morning for no particular reason, restless feet bouncing on the floor as they wait for their coffee, and almost burn themselves trying to finish it in one go, before rushing out the door without so much of a thank you. Your midnight visitor is no different than the rest, other than the fact that he displays genuine human emotion, and is willing to slowly enjoy your five hour brew.

"Yeah, it's the least I can do for everyone who comes here. Fix them a good cup. They're tired enough as is."

Keiji chokes up at your words. The past year of manga editing has graced him with screaming seniors, hours upon hours of overtime, throwing up food and drink every night until all he has the guts to eat are microwaved frozen bagels. His throat closes up, Adam's apple swallowing thickly. Shoulders begin to tremble, and you place a hand on the side of his bicep, rubbing it soothingly over the counter. His sobs fill up the shop, drowning out the television as he rubs at his face even harder, wiping his tears with his jacket. In one night, you have shown him more care than anyone else has in the past year combined, and all you've done is microwave him a leftover croissant and fix him a mug of real coffee.

"S-sorry, 's been a shitty week."

"You're okay, you're fine. Let it out, as much as you need."

And for just a moment in his bleak existence, the sterile white lights of the office become a lamplit cafe, hidden in the corner of his street. The stench of air freshener is swapped out for vanilla, and coffee, and lavender, and all that is right. For just tonight, Akaashi Keiji, who doesn't like coffee at all, thinks that he might actually be able to enjoy it, as long as it's from you, and only you.

author's note:

bet you didn't expect this series to get angsty!! i really wanted to write a coffee shop romance, but i also wanted to get a little ambiguous, like a sorta fateful meeting, and i thought this would work!! the idea of throwing up coffee makes me want to cry because i love coffee so much i could not imagine my life without it icl

hope you guys enjoyed this though! it's not as romantic as the other ones i've done on the cologne series, but it's a change in pace that im looking to achieve!! might be the most gentle piece i've written for this series in terms of atmosphere as well :333

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @starlysama @catsoupki @fiannee @afyrian @bailey-reeds @iiwaijime

ok love u guys see u in the next one bye bye

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ghulehunknown · 7 months ago

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Clergy Headcanons - Proposals!

Rated G - Purely fluff! Gender neutral reader

How I think the head members of the Clergy would propose to you 😌

(inspired by Älva’s Papa engagement ring post!)

Primo

Very romantic

He asked a parental figure/someone important in your life for your hand (well, at least told your loved one(s) beforehand to give a semblance of traditionality)

Plans a picnic with all your favorite foods, and he brought your favorite roses and other pretty flowers from his garden. He actually secretly grew a special engagement bouquet just for you!

He doesn’t get down on one knee because of his arthritis, but proposes while you’re both sitting down

The ring is very traditional and likely passed down for generations in his family. He’s been waiting a whole lifetime to give it to you 🥺

Secondo

Whatever he has planned, it’s completely with your personality in mind - whether you are more inclined for something quiet or a something with a little more opulence

But it’s probably something a little more lowkey, like after a lovely dinner that he cooks for you. He may not be one for grand gestures but he does know how to make you feel very special

He has a very romantic, although not super long, speech before he gets down on one knee and hands you the most wonderful ring you’ve ever seen

The ring is beautiful, but dark - much like him. It’s probably got some black star sapphires in it or something, and the band is made from tungsten or titanium because it’s durable and lasting like his love for you

Terzo

He…may or may not have proposed impulsively one evening after a date because he got excited…then remembered he’s Terzo and vows to do better with a surprise later. (Eloping isn’t out of the question for him)

He plans a grand day out doing all your favorite activities before coming back to the Ministry which is decorated to the max and all your loved ones are there in attendance

He gets down on one knee and gives an elaborate, moving speech and promises you the world

The ring is GORGEOUS and extravagant and must’ve cost a fortune. But your love is priceless, so a silly little price tag doesn’t stop him (don’t worry, he paid full price and didn’t use the Papa discount; he makes sure you know that)

He definitely planned a flashmob for you with Siblings and Ghouls dressed in tuxedos and wedding dresses, but waves them off after he sees how overcome with emotion you are

Can’t wait for you to see the second part…alone in his room, because you have to “christen the engagement”

Copia

Oh god he’s nervous AF, he’s sweating and stumbling. He doesn’t want to mess this up because he’s been planning it for a long time. He knew you were the one the day he met you

He takes you back to the spot you had your first date. You can tell something is up because he’s acting a little funny

He definitely messes up his little speech he has prepared but he says something like: “You will never walk alone”

He’s so, so sweet and everything is perfect no matter how nervous you both are 🥺

He gets down on one knee and everything and you feel like the most special person in the world, because to him you are

He gives you a traditional, but absolutely beautiful ring. It’s probably got diamonds or your birthstone in it. He’s not a fully traditional man, but for things as important as this he doesn’t want to miss a beat

He’s ready to start planning the wedding!

Nihil

“Here,” and hands you the ring

He probably proposes immediately after you have an argument in attempt to makeup and show you he still wants you

The ring is simple, but durable. It’s probably solid gold, because to him you’re golden

Afterwards he takes you out to your favorite restaurant then a drive in movie (it reminds him of the good ol’ days)

Sister Imperator (bonus round!)

Very methodical and planned to a T

Lots of beautiful decorations

The speech is simple and to the point, as she often is, so there’s really no way to get lost in flowery language. You know what she wants, and it’s you and her forever

“We would be good together, don’t you think?” she’d say with her all-knowing smirk

She hands you a sturdy stainless steel ring and got herself one to match

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ratcatcher0325 · 13 days ago

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A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #35)

Chapter #35. SURPRISE!!!🎄 🎁 Merry Christmas! 🎁🎄 I couldn't leave us on that big of a cliffhanger! Not on Christmas! Anyway, here is a little holiday gift from me to you. I want to sincerely thank everyone in this community who takes the time to read this story. I am so grateful for each and every one of you! Where is Natalie taking Alexander? Is he going to love it or hate it? It's usually 50/50 with him.

Previous: Chapter #34

Next: Chapter #36

Word Count: 8,756 Read Time: Approx. 90 mins

CW: Physical intimacy. SO much physical intimacy.

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

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A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #35: La Petite Aiguille

[Alexander’s POV]

Rows upon rows of bolts of fabric in every color, shade and pattern I could fathom, lined the walls. Custom racks accommodated spools of thread all arranged in the gradient of the rainbow, while tungsten sconces bathed the room in an orange, electric glow. The solid wood beams of the ceiling gave the room an old-fashioned gravitas, while the smell of polished wood and starched linen ignited my olfactory senses.

Everything was immaculately organized, each thread having its place.

There was a break in the floor-to-ceiling shelves on the left, where a maroon curtain separated us from whatever lay on the opposite side.

On display on the tables in front of us and on the counters of the classical oak desk that served as the register, were mannequins sporting all kinds of clothing, from impressive gowns fit for a runway stage, to elaborate, themed costumes, to, yes, even beautifully crafted suits in every cut.

But the best part?

Every single article of clothing on display, from the dresses, to the outfits, the hats and shoes, were perfectly proportioned to my dimensions. This entire, wonderful place accommodated people like me.

I stared, slack jawed, unable to believe this wasn’t some sort of very realistic dream, when I felt Natalie’s gaze on me, “What do you think? This is supposed to be the best place in all of Massachusetts…” She hummed softly, the fingers of her left hand stroking the outside of the pocket, about level with my chest.

Unable to tear my eyes away, I swallowed, gripping the fabric to keep from showing her any pathetic emotions, “I—“

Before I had a chance to complete, or even begin, that thought, the sharp clink of metal rings sliding across a curtain rod hit my ears, as someone crossed the threshold.

My heart jumped. Another human. What was this one going to be like?

My hands itched for something to defend myself with. Whether she could feel my body stiffen, or just guessed by instinct, Natalie gently pressed her fingers over my heart, caressing my forearm with her thumb. I looked up to catch her gaze. Her eyes seemed calm, reassuring. I did my level best to relax.

As the figure crossed behind the main desk, I endeavored to take in all of her details, reading her for any signs, positive or negative.

Her hair was cut short, tight pin curls looping and twisting in a gravity defying mop of pure white. Her keen, bright eyes shone beyond the rim of her, golden reading glasses, perched low on her nose. Her vintage jewelry, including an elegant gold watch, sparkled in the light of the lamp beside her. Her outfit was clearly custom made, a beautiful matching vest and skirt in warm earth tones, with white dress sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hands were lithe, yet possessed a certain air of intentionality with every move she made. She held a leather bound tome under her arm.

“Apologies for the wait, we’re at the peak of our holiday orders at the moment. How can I help you?” She locked eyes with Natalie, seemingly not noticing me quite yet. Her voice was soft and clear as a bell. She set down her book, cracking it open and scribbled something along its many columns and rows. Natalie stepped up to the counter as she spoke. I leaned forward, enjoying the swooping, artistic motions of her calligraphic script as she wrote in incredibly ornate cursive.

“Oh, hello, there.” She’d stopped writing. I looked up to find her gaze, dulled with age but not without a keen spark, was fixed on me.

I clenched my jaw as I hardly dared to breathe… I waited for the condescending comment to come next. She leaned down to address me again, “Sir? What can I do for you today?” A smile played about her lips, but it was far from anything like a sneer. It was warm, friendly.

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was waiting for my reply. She was addressing me directly. I cleared my throat. “I, uh, I believe I’m here to purchase a suit.” I raised my voice to cover the distance, trying to sound like I did this sort of thing all the time.

“More than just one. He’d like to be fitted today, please.” I whipped over my shoulder to look up at Natalie. Was she serious? When I met her eyes, she nodded and winked at me.

“So you want the full custom package?” The woman looked at me, I looked to Natalie, Natalie nodded in the affirmative. The human across from us checked her wrist, nodding with an exact precision I couldn’t help but admire, “Perfect timing. I believe I can squeeze you in between our other standing consultations. Right this way.” She motioned for us to follow her into the curtained room.

We entered the back area and were greeted by two tables with ornate lion’s paw legs. The one on the left was piled with fabric, neatly folded, with tools of the trade including rulers, pushpins, scissors and measuring tape. On the right, the surface of the table was bare, save a series of pristine white boxes, each sitting side by side, along its center. I wondered what those were.

Instead, we curved toward the left. I supposed I’d just have to wait to find out more.

We came to a stop in front of the table with its neatly organized tools. I was beginning to deeply appreciate the pristine organization of this place. It was far more comforting than Natalie’s rat’s nest approach to every inch of her living space, though I'd managed to train her out of her most egregious lifestyle habits.

I was torn from my musing when fingers descended all around me, the pad of Natalie’s thumb resting over my chest while two fingers hooked under my arms as she applied light pressure.

I met her eyes to see her arched brow, as she sought permission to pick me up and set me down. With a curt nod from me, she lifted me up and out, placing me on my own two feet in the center of the table. As she fished for my crutch, the other woman approached the table, setting a clipboard and red ink pen down on the surface beside me.

She adjusted her glasses as she pulled the chain to a lamp behind me, bathing my surroundings in a soft glow. I couldn’t help but notice the way my jaw involuntarily clenched and I held my breath as her arm loomed overhead.

I realized with a sharp pang the indignity that was about to commence.

Natalie was finally granting me the opportunity to dress like the gentleman I was, a wonderful thing indeed, but… no tailored suit, big or small, was possible without acquiring that gentleman’s measurements.

I felt a twist in my stomach, as I pictured being pinched, grabbed, and puppeted about like a doll, as string was cinched too tightly around my arm or leg to quantify the size of limbs. This strange woman’s hands who I’d admired from a distance for their precision and poise, now intimidated me in the lamplight, seeming too aged, bony and frighteningly precise in their movements to be anything but painful when they seized me.

The liver spots that dotted her arm, the thin and almost papery nature of her skin that displayed the blue veins snaking beneath and the pronounced knuckles on her arthritic, littlest fingers all reminded me of a particular set of hands I’d fought very hard to forget.

“… Alexander?” The present circumstance came back into crystal clear focus at the sound of my name from Natalie’s lips. I blinked hard and looked up at where the sound had come from. Her finger and thumb held my crutch between them, as she bent at the waist to address me, her brow slightly furrowed with worry, she gently brushed my arm with the side of her curled fingers, nudging me back into reality, “… Here you go.” She offered me my walking aide, and I cleared my throat, taking it from her while staring at the floor.

“Ah, is that your name? I don’t think we got properly introduced.” This time it was that voice that tinkled like a bell in my ears. I’d admit, it had a pleasant ring, despite my trepidations, “Hello, Alexander, I’m Marianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She offered a finger to shake. I admit, I was taken aback. Why was she so courteous? She was smiling at me.

It put me on edge.

When was she going to burst into laughter? Was it when I gave in to her invitation to shake, like equals, only for her to pull her hand away? Or would it be the moment I turned over my shoulder where she’d take the opportunity to snatch me up by the collar? I refused to believe this wasn’t an act.

She was still offering her finger.

I was taking too long, if I waited much more I’d be questioned.

I took a few steps forward and stiffly shook the pad of her finger with my hand. Immediately retreating the few steps back when it was over. Good. No funny business. Not yet. I decided as long as she continued this charade of being polite, I’d do the same. An eye for an eye and all that.

“Well, we’re delighted to have you here. And what’s your name, young lady?” Natalie introduced herself and shook hands with the older woman with a warmth I found reassuring. “Welcome to La Petite Aiguille.” I suppose she thought that name was terribly clever. How gouche. Of course, she probably assumed I couldn’t understand French, which would be a false assumption.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as she addressed us again, “May I interest either of you in any refreshments?” She had my attention, now, as she acquainted us with our options. I ordered herbal tea, Natalie chose coffee. The woman, Marianne, excused herself to prepare them both.

After the clack of the woman’s shoes on the hardwood faded, Natalie leaned down, resting her chin on her forearm, setting down her free hand close to where I stood, “So? Whaddya think?” Her eyes gleamed. Always so excitable, wasn’t she?

“It…” I felt heat rise in my face. I mustn’t come across like some giddy child let loose in a toy store, “It seems like a professional and respectable establishment.”

Her face fell, she was clearly hoping for more enthusiasm from me, but I was far too embarrassed to show her just how excited I was. Before she could form a response, Marianne returned with a tray, including a steaming mug of coffee I could’ve taken a dip in if I so chose, as well as a teapot, mug and saucer balanced on an embossed tray, all sized to me. But that was not all. In hand, she also clutched a proportional end table and chair which she gingerly placed beside me. I served myself the tea as she continued.

“As you can see we specialize in custom clothing for those of nimbler proportions than our own.” Nimbler, eh? I quite liked that. “So what’re we getting outfitted for today? A holiday party? Gala? Wedding?” Me? At a human wedding? I nearly spit a mouthful of tea back into the cup.

“No, nothing like that.” Natalie swooped in to save the conversation, “He just likes to be sharply dressed. Personally, I love lounging at home in sweats and a t-shirt but this one wants cufflinks and starched collars.” Her index finger brushed the toe of my shoe, “He’s suffered for way too long in casual clothes. Now that he’s more healed up, he deserves to dress to the nines every day if he wants to.” She winked at me. My heart knocked at my ribs. Stupid, impressionable, laughable idiot! Just drink your tea and stop with the flushed face already! I swallowed everything in the cup in one go.

“A true mondain, I see. Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Let’s see what we can do.” What was this woman’s deal with sprinkling French into every other sentence? Was she trying to show off? She grabbed her pen and started to jot things down on the form before her.

I poured myself another cup of tea, and directed my words to the ceramic vessel, “Vous pensez que vous êtes si intelligent, n'est-ce pas? Je peux aussi parler français, tu sais.” The woman, I supposed I could start thinking of her by her name, Marianne, never paused in her writing. The line came and went without her understanding. I pursed my lips and couldn’t help the smug smirk that crossed my face. It seemed she didn’t know the language nearly as well as she’d put on. I continued to revel in my superiority, until I heard the human to my right clearing her throat theatrically.

I looked up to see Natalie’s eyebrows raised as she scowled at me disapprovingly. “Be nice!” She mouthed. I opened my hands and shrugged as if to say “What?”. She didn’t get a chance to retaliate, however, as Marianne raised her eyes from the page and addressed us.

“Now, first thing’s first, we’ll need your measurements.” Damn. I came down from my temporary high and felt my heart in my throat again.

Evidently I wasn’t as skilled at masking my feelings on the matter as I’d thought, because she reassured me while preparing her tools, “Not to worry, Alexander, there will be no rough treatment here. I’ll be as gentle with you as Natalie would.” I snuck a glance up at the woman she’d mentioned, only to find, much to my embarrassment, that she was already looking me over.

We both instantly turned our attention back to our drinks.

Marianne carried on unperturbed. I was beginning to wonder if this woman was one of the least observant people on the planet, or if she was just exceedingly polite. She scribbled things on her paper, before organizing her rulers and measuring tapes before her. She addressed me as she prepped, “So, you’re fond of gentleman’s wear, hm? Not many young men care about keeping up appearances anymore. I’m glad you’re an exception to the rule. My Henri was fond of his pinstripes and pocket squares. A perfect pairing for a seamstress, you can imagine!” Her eyes sparkled with memories long past.

“I… I’m sorry for your loss…” Natalie’s voice was kind and genuine.

“Oh, that’s alright, honey. We had many wonderful years together.” She turned to me, “I think he would’ve quite liked you, Alexander.”

Me? I couldn’t imagine how much I and an older human man could possibly have in common, besides our manner of dress. And in any case, this woman had only just met me, how could she possibly make such a rapid assessment?

I nodded politely in agreement anyway, hoping to move past this rather somber moment and return to the exciting part of getting me into a beautiful suit.

Of course, Natalie couldn’t help but ask follow up questions. Annoying, the way humans always politely placated each other with niceties and small talk, “Did he help you run this place?”

Marianne cracked a smile, “Oh, yes! The whole thing was his idea. Down to the name. I was perfectly happy to stitch away on my little creations at home, but he encouraged me to share my skills with others. He was always the gregarious one…” you don’t seem to have any problem talking at length, as far as I can see. “… and much better at putting our clients at ease, though, I try my very best. I know the constant invasion of personal space can be unwelcome.”

Finally someone acknowledges this well-known truth!

“Now, Mr. Alexander, if you’ll take a few steps forward, I’ll get your height to start.”

The flattery of being addressed so formally was quickly counteracted by an unwelcome reality that the aforementioned invasion of personal space was about to begin.

I looked about myself to set down the cup in my hand. The side table was just out of reach from where I stood. I shifted my weight, about to turn over my shoulder to cross closer to the surface when a finger brushed the length of my forearm, warm and soft. I stopped in my tracks and looked up.

Natalie was offering to take the cup from me. Her lips curled into a soft smile as my gaze locked with hers, “Don’t worry, I won’t accidentally drop this one. I promise.” She winked.

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, and shake my head before balancing the cup on the pad of her index finger. She pinched it between finger and thumb and carried it to its proper place for me.

*****

As Alexander stepped forward, away from the tiny furniture, the experienced hands of the craftswoman carefully slid a polished wooden ruler behind his back. I found myself balancing my chin over my crossed arms to get a closer look at what the measurement tool showed.

He stood very still, his posture perfect, and his chest puffed. I could tell he was stretching his spine to stand as tall as he possibly could. As I squinted to discern the tiny lines that Alexander could easily trace with his fingers, I saw his exact height for the first time.

Five and half inches, exactly.

My heart melted.

As the ruler was removed, I searched his face for signs of unease. I wouldn’t blame him for being nervous. He was already grumpy enough being handled by me, I knew having a stranger’s hands all over him wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park.

“You okay?” I mouthed, unable to resist brushing the toe of his shoe with a fingertip. He nodded, sucking in a sharp breath. I could see he was steeling himself.

I trusted Marianne, she seemed extremely kind and respectful. Still, her fingers, though aged and thin, were each over half the length of his entire little body.

She prepared a length of bright crimson thread, tying it off in a knot in one graceful pull.

“First, I’ll ask you to let your arms rest at your sides…” he shuffled his weight, unsure what to do with the crutch in his hand.

“You okay to stand without it for a few? I can hold it for you.” I offered. He nodded, clearly disinterested in needing any help, but having no choice.

“…And then I’m going to measure the width of your shoulders, will you turn to face Natalie?” I liked that she walked him through every single step she was taking. I could see he was starting to relax a bit as he shuffled his feet to face me. Marianne used the bit of string to measure along his shoulder blades, from point to point. The scribble of her pen on paper and the hum of the heater somewhere behind us, were the only sounds in the room.

Until…

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

I think I jumped more than he did. Someone was knocking on what I assumed must’ve been the back door of the shop.

Marianne had a different reaction, “Oh!” She dropped the thread and checked her watch, “They’re early! I apologize, someone is here to drop off a bulk order. You’ll have to excuse me. This is the trouble of running things all by myself!” She looked flustered and embarrassed for having to pause, “I should only be a minute!”

She stepped through the curtain and after a few moments I could hear the sounds of a door opening and the low rumble of male voices mixing with hers. The activity faded into the background as I took in the little life before me.

“You wanna sit down? Rest your leg?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” I wasn’t convinced but it didn’t seem worth it to argue over. I found myself reaching for the bit of string that had served as his measuring tape. Threading it in and out from between my fingers.

That’s when we heard Marianne’s voice cut through, far more flustered than we’d heard before, “No! No, this is all wrong. You have half of my satin and georgette mixed in with someone else’s bolts of polyester! How difficult is it to keep your orders straight?” I could hear the clack of her shoes on hardwood growing louder as she suddenly thrust aside the curtain, “I’m so sorry for this little hiccup. I’ll just be a bit longer… Oh—“

Her eyes cast down to the crimson thread pinched between my finger and thumb. “Were you measuring him yourself?”

Alexander and I both exchanged flustered glances before I tried my best to respond, “Well, I—“

I heard the low voices of men and the shuffling of heavy feet beyond the curtain. As Marianne checked over her shoulder, her eyes widened, “Be careful with that! You almost knocked it over!” Her head of curly white hair, popped back in to address us, “No, no. Please. Go ahead! It’ll save us time! You’ll have to excuse me!” She gestured at the thread between my fingers before dashing off, footsteps fading even as I could hear her shout in exasperation about some other mishap those workers were creating in her shop.

And suddenly it was just he and I.

He cleared his throat, pulling at his collar.

“So…” I finally mumbled, breaking the silence. His blue eyes met mine when I spoke. My face felt warm.

“So.” He shifted his weight, his face splashed with pink, while he craned his neck to stare up at me.

“I guess, I’m gonna— I mean, if you’re okay with… me??”

He thrust his hands in his pockets, nodding his head, while his blonde bangs hung in his eyes, “Right, no. I mean. We must… Musn’t we? For the sake of-of the time. Like she said.”

“Yeah. Totally. Uh. Okay. So…” I twirled the piece of thread around my finger, while I glanced at the sheet of paper, “It looks like I’m supposed to measure your chest next…” My hands inched toward him. I could feel my pulse in the tip of every finger, I had to concentrate to keep them steady. Alexander watched my encroaching hands like a hawk, his spine stiff, his lips taught.

“Wait!” He threw up his own little palm. I stopped, confused. His brow furrowed as he addressed me, “You’re practically towering over me, standing like that. Do you know how exhausting it is to practically break my neck just to be able to address you? Go find a chair.” I raised my brows, he rolled his eyes, “Please.”

I pulled it up before the table and sat down, “There, better?” I was so much closer to eye level with him now, and yet, he still seemed so far away, standing in the shadow I cast.

He won’t seem so far once I’m physically touching him. I felt a thrill rush through me at the thought.

I took the knotted end and gently held it against his sternum. He rocked back on his heel from the pressure, nevertheless. His little heart was pounding against his ribs. I melted again.

After a moment, “Ahem, Natalie?” I was frozen in place, just mesmerized by the thrumming of life beneath my fingers.

“Right, right! Sorry!” I shook my head. “Okay hold that for me, please…” his lithe little fingers took over for my gigantic one, as I wrapped the string around his chest and arms. I pinched the string where it met the knotted end and pulled it away from his body. Finally, I laid it flat to the tape measure before jotting down the number. We proceeded to do this with the length of his arms, the circumference of his tiny little wrists, even his neck, which I tried to be painstakingly delicate with.

With his chin thrust in the air, I could feel him gazing up at me as he held the knot against the hollow of his throat. He opened his mouth to speak and I bit the inside of my lip, worried he might snap at me out of discomfort, but instead he spoke so softly it was almost too quiet to hear, “You’re not too bad at this, Ms. Marquez…”

As he spoke, I could feel the tiny vibrations in his neck as I very delicately brought the string around. What a mesmerizing feeling. I swelled with pride, “Oh really? Approval from the Little Nightmare? Not a single criticism yet? It’s my lucky day. What’d I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head… it’s big enough as it is!”

“Hey! Rude!” I released the string, pretending to be offended. To my delight, his little face broke out into that lovely crooked smile I adored so much.

“You’re awfully pleased with yourself, aren’t ya?”

“As I ought to be! It was a shining example of my cracking wit, and you ought to be more impressed.”

“You ready for the next part, Mr. Chuckles?”

“Oh! Come on!” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, “That was terrible. Was that the best you could come up with? I’ll take Xandy over that, any day!”

“What’s that? I can call you Xandy now??”

“No!!! No that’s not what I said! Don’t you dare– Hey! What’re you doing?!”

**********

As I spoke, her fingers and thumbs rushed up from behind and landed on either side of my waist. The warmth was intoxicating, her grip all encompassing, and intimate. My face flushed with color and heat.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s the next thing on the list!” She was defensive. I twisted and squirmed feeling the tension in the thread as it rested at the small of my back.

She had to be playing coy with me! Couldn’t she see how flustered she was making me? It’d been hard enough to keep my composure when she rested her fingertip over my heart, or gently guided my arms where she wanted them, or leaned down so close while she regarded me with such care and gentleness that her fingertips left electrical pulses where they brushed against my skin. But now this?

I was finding it hard to breathe.

“You could at least warn a man before you trap him in your colossal grip! Have you learned nothing?”

“I’m not– Look, we don’t have to do this. Especially if you’re gonna get all pissy about it.” She looked crestfallen. That soft warmth dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared when she pulled her hands away, the thread dragging limply along the table’s surface, pinched between her finger and thumb.

No, no, no! This isn’t what I wanted at all. Couldn’t she see I was addicted to it now? That warmth, that soft touch? This was all her fault.

“Wait!” I stepped forward, snatching up the opposite end of the thread before it snaked away from my reach. She looked at me with curiosity, waiting to see what I’d do next, “If you’re going to hold me by the waist, have the courtesy to let me participate.” Her golden green irises dilated as her mouth parted slightly. I had her complete attention.

A tremor ran down the nape of my neck to the curve of my lumbar as I pulled the string toward me. She let this tension in the thread move her hand forward with no resistance. My heart skipped a beat. She was letting me control her.

I guided her fingertips to the soft flesh just above my hipbone, where my obliques flared and rippled as I fought to keep my composure. I transferred the thread to my right hand and fed it behind my back, allowing the tension to hold my weight as I leaned back, feeding it around to my right side. I could count each and every quaking beat of my heart as I held the crimson thread in my fist, offering it to her. She slid the tip of her index along the inside of my forearm, making me suck in a sharp breath, before uncurling my fist and taking the string from me.

“Now what?” she whispered, two pairs of a finger and thumb resting on either side of my body, waiting for my instruction.

I’d never felt so big in all my life.

I guided one set of fingers to rest on my navel. Could she feel how my breath shook when she touched me?

I grounded myself and brought the other side to meet, letting the string cross itself at the proper place. She pinched the spot with her thumbnail and slowly, gently, retreated to measure and write down her findings.

“Okay, now hips,” She held the length of string in front of me, waiting to be guided once more. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from beaming.

I performed the same little ritual with her, and this time her fingertips landed over a much more intimate part of myself. I flushed bright, hissing between clenched teeth, “Careful!”

I expected her to scoff at me, but the eyes that met my upward gaze were soft, “I’m only going where you put me. You’re in control.”

I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly my legs buckled and gave way beneath me. She was quick to act, wrapping a finger around my hips and pinning me between finger and thumb.

Dear god, what was she doing to me?!

Before I could take another breath, the clattering of human footsteps and the scrape of metal met my ears and made me jump.

Marianne’s voice cut through our built up tension like a razorblade, as she seemed completely unaware of our situation, “Okay! So sorry about that, you two!” Natalie quickly let go, as I rushed to tidy myself and readjust my crooked clothing. The seamstress rounded the corner of the table and entered my periphery, glancing over the measurement sheet “Looks like you got the vast majority completed. That’s perfect, we’ve got a great place to start.” She clapped her hands with a sharp crack, a smile warming her aged features as she leaned down to address me, “Now, Mister Alexander. What’re we in the market for?”

My head spun as I tried to engage my brain, lips and tongue again, “W-what am I—? Uh, um…” It was a truly foreign sensation for words to elude me. I shook my head trying to clear my mind, “A, uh, A classical cut is always best, single breasted, three piece, wool, tweed or cotton, with a notch lapel and double vent.” The words flowed with an easy familiarity, and I found it easier to breathe for the first time since she had left Natalie and I to our own devices.

“You were right,” She addressed the woman before me, “He really knows his stuff!” Natalie nodded vigorously and smiled, as if to say “You have no idea”.

“Ah— And no pinstripes. I hate pinstripes.” I added in haste.

“Duly noted! I think I have quite a few pieces you’ll be interested in.” She gathered the paper with my measurements, Natalaie’s chicken scratch contrasting sharply with the older woman’s elegant script. As she crossed the room, opening a cabinet and searching for something, she spoke over her shoulder, “Please, feel free to come to this other table here…” She gestured to the table with those mysterious boxes on them.

Natalie and I exchanged a glance, before she slid her palm beside me, hooking her thumb beneath my left arm. She gathered me in her hand, her other fingers supporting my weight before she lifted me off the table.

She crossed with me to the opposite side, her free thumb gently stroking my cheek. It wasn’t all that long ago I would’ve recoiled at such a caress. Now I melted beneath it.

What has gotten into me??

Soon, I was being lowered to my feet, before one of those mystery boxes. I could see now that the front was obscured by a curtain.

“Go ahead,” Marianne had just placed a polished wooden case of some kind on the table just to my right, as she seemed to register my curiosity. I took a step forward, only to feel a warmth and pressure on my shoulder. I turned to see Natalie offering me my crutch, balanced on a fingertip. I acquiesced and took it, before thrusting the curtain aside.

I’m not sure what I’d expected but it wasn’t this.

Beyond the veil of the fabric, and just a small step up, was what I imagined a dressing room to look like. I’d never been in one myself, human-sized or otherwise, but it fit my expectations and then exceeded them. On the wall opposite me was a full length mirror, held in a gilded, golden frame. A beautiful Persian rug softened the faux wooden floor. There were hooks along the wall to hang clothing, as well as a vanity complete with a mirror and chair. Along the walls were framed prints of famous art pieces. I admit, the Lady with an Ermine was the only one I recognized. Everything felt… authentic. Real. Human. Is this what rooms looked like to them all the time? There was a wide variety of plants that looked… were they real? Not just plastic bastardizations of the typical human houseplant?

I stepped into the ‘room’ and as I marveled, heard a breathy “Wow, fancy…” from up high. I craned my neck to find that this room, for all its proportional realism, lacked a ceiling, and, therefore, Nat was easily able to peer down, her arms crossed, and smile at me from above.

But there was one area in the corner, also sectioned off by a curtain, which, when I peered into it, I realized was actually fully enclosed, complete with an electric wall sconce to brighten the space.

Oh. What a relief. I wouldn’t have to change in front of these two women. I never expected humans to think of these things. This was a nice surprise.

“Is it suitable to your tastes?” Marianne appeared beyond the edge of the far wall, “My Henri designed every detail. We had such fun putting them together. Oh speaking of… try these on for size…”

A wrinkled finger and thumb descended into the space, shattering the illusion that I was in anything other than a highly detailed doll house. Pinched between her digits, was a suit jacket, vest, and matching slacks, each hanging on their own seemingly custom wooden hangers. She carefully placed each of these on one of the wall hooks. Her hand disappeared and then returned with another set and another and another.

I admit, I felt my heart race at just the sight of them. I’d missed the familiar fit of a suit so very much. My grip on the walking aide was becoming clammy as I absentmindedly bounced on the ball of my good foot in anticipation.

She also laid down a folded under shirt on the vanity (the folds were crisp and tidy. Impressive for fingers that big) and several different collared shirts on the remaining hangers.

“I’ll work on ties, belts and shoes while you start with these. How’s that sound?” I nodded in agreement, already making a beeline for the undershirt, a white collared dress shirt and the first vest and pair of slacks on the rack before she’d finished speaking.

I was just about to disappear into the changing room when a finger on my shoulder stopped me.

My mouth twisted into an instinctive grimace as Natalie halted me. What?? What did she want?? I was moments away from shedding this baggy loungewear for something sophisticated and elegant. What could possibly be so important that she needed to interrupt me at this very moment?

I turned to face her, only to realize precisely what. Offered up between her fingers was that pair of tweezers. The same ones I’d used to help myself change since I’d blessedly escaped that god awful tie dye shirt. She’d brought them from home for me.

“Just in case,” she winked at me. Oh. Now, I felt like an ass.

I breathed out from my nostrils, releasing the tension in my shoulders, “Thank you.” I even briefly patted the side of her finger as a show of appreciation as I took the object from her. I figured she’d like that, what with her love of touching me all the time.

The sudden thought of her touch and heat and softness completely overwhelming me just moments ago on that other table top made my face flush with shame.

I hurried inside the changing room, where, luckily, no one could see my changed complexion.

**********

I drummed my fingers on the table, just dying for him to throw that tiny curtain aside and reveal himself. Marianne flitted about the room, opening drawers, cabinets and boxes, finding just what she was looking for, all while peering over the rim of her glasses with the keen eye of a master at work.

Soon she had a lineup of tiny accessories displayed on the vanity table for him to peruse.

I caught her gaze and mouthed “Thank you”, she nodded warmly and winked, before catching something out of the corner of her eye and gesturing for me to look too.

That little curtain fluttered with movement, and before I knew it, there emerged one tiny socked foot, then another, with a metal and rubber crutch complimenting their rise and fall.

Then, my heart skipped.

Hello there, Alexander.

He looked absolutely incredible, and he wasn’t even fully dressed yet. The slacks sported a flattering pleat down the length of his leg, settling perfectly about his waist. The vest fit beautifully, cinched slightly in the back, the white dress shirt contrasted nicely and the sleeves fit him just right.

I immediately dropped my chin to the surface of the table to get a closer look.

He emerged with his head ducked as he gracefully threaded the final button on the vest, the royal blue wool lacing through his lithe little fingers.

Suddenly, two icy blue irises like crystals of frozen flame were trained on me and I had to bite my lip to keep from embarrassing myself. The blue of the suit made his eyes shine even more brightly than before.

“It looks like a perfect fit. How does it feel?” He craned his neck to listen to the voice looming above him. He adjusted his shoulders, made sure the vest was perfectly centered, and he toyed with his shirt sleeves until they were just right, before he turned to the full length mirror.

With my head balanced on my hand, I could just make out a sliver of my face reflected in the tiny mirror over his shoulder.

Seeing his entire body against the backdrop of one small part of mine reminded me of that first day, when I’d forced him into that ugly little doll shirt and held him up to my bathroom vanity admiring our size difference. That truly felt like a lifetime ago.

Marianne passed him a silky rust colored tie, and I watched with flustered amazement how his fingers expertly worked the flimsy material into a pinprick of a complicated knot, even and perfect. I felt like I was glimpsing into a whole other world of his, a past I only faintly understood.

With each infinitesimal adjustment of his collar, sweep of his hair, and threading of his tie beneath his vest, I felt myself staring slack jawed at this new version of the little man I thought I’d known so well.

Now for the jacket. She handed it to him, and he spread the lapels to admire the inner lining (a gorgeous, patterned silk with flowers of purple and blue) when his eyes stopped at something sewn into the collar just as the nape of the neck.

*****

I stared at the inside of the jacket, almost in disbelief.

Sewn with expert precision, were a handful of stitches that unmistakably spelled out “For My Henri”.

I was flabbergasted.

Marianne had said he was the love of her life, that they’d built this business together, that he’d encouraged her to use her talents to help others, and this man had been… like me?

“I-I can’t possibly accept this…” I shook my head, thrusting the beautifully crafted garment away from my body and offering it back up to this kind hearted woman who peered down at me.

She simply smiled, “Just try it on, at least.”

She couldn’t be serious. But it would be nice just to try it on for size. She could use it as a reference. I was determined to refuse her offer if she brought it up again, but I saw no harm in at least donning the final piece of the suit, just to see it all together.

I took a deep breath and easily twirled the garmet over my shoulder, sliding my arms along the silken lining and letting it fall around my body, gazing into the mirror once more.

Oh, hello there, Alexander. It’s good to see you again, old friend. How I’ve missed you.

It was beyond perfect. It was the most beautifully crafted suit I’d ever had the pleasure to wear. I looked wonderfully smart. My chest swelled as a small smirk creeped onto my features, threatening to boil over into a boyish grin if I wasn’t careful.

I refocused the lenses of my eyes to take in Natalie’s gaze, dominating the landscape behind me. Her pupils were dilated, her expression dreamy. I turned to face her, leaving my crutch behind for now.

I thrust a hand in a pocket, unbuttoning the jacket to show the vest underneath and spun on my heel, feeling altogether like a million bucks.

“You look… incredible” She practically breathed. The way her eyes shone when she gazed at me… Why did my knees suddenly feel weak at hearing her sigh at me like that? Perhaps I needed my crutch after all.

“She’s right, you know. It suits you. I suppose I can’t convince you to try on the rest of them can I?” The older woman issued me this challenge with a twinkle in her eye.

Natalie furrowed her brow and cocked her head. As if to say “What could possibly be the problem with that?”

Of course. She didn’t understand what Marianne and I already did.

I slid off the jacket and held up its stitching to her. She leaned in so close I could feel the heat of her exhale as she finally managed to squint enough to read the name sewn there.

“Oh, oh my god. So…your… he was…?” Natalie stuttered.

Marianne nodded, a smile sparkling with decades of memory igniting in her eyes. Eventually, she busied herself with handing me the next suit, this one a beautiful gray, continuing to address Natalie, “He was the best thing to ever come into my life. We found each other when I spent a summer in Paris, a whole lifetime ago. I couldn’t bear to return home without him. Luckily, he agreed to travel halfway across the world to be by my side. It took us a while to come to terms with our feelings, believe me, most people couldn’t possibly understand… especially not in those days. I hope you two don’t let your fear get in the way.”

My face burned and my mouth felt so dry, my voice cracked as I spoke, “Oh, no, we’re not… we-we—“

Suddenly Natalie’s louder voice tumbled atop mine, cutting me off, as she spoke through a strained smile, “Thank you.”

I sensed that I’d committed some sort of social faux pas, though I couldn’t understand what. Natalie and I weren’t… that is to say we didn’t have that sort of dynamic. Despite this, I decided to bite my tongue out of a desire to spare Natalie any unnecessary embarrassment. Judging by her bright pink complexion, she was already suffering enough from my attempt to set the record straight.

I put that interaction out of my mind, though, as I returned to the garments in my hands. I admit, I allowed myself the small pleasure of trying all four of Henri’s suits, each one as beautifully crafted as the last and still in such incredible condition for their age.

I tried on various loafers, belts, ties and even, to my utter delight, tie clips and cufflinks!

As a boy coming of age, I’d been repeatedly reprimanded after asking for cufflinks to match my larger counterpart, being told they’d be “much too small to be worth any effort to make them in the first place”.

Once I’d enjoyed everything those suits had to offer, she asked me to describe what I’d like to have custom made, letting me touch various fabric swatches and color options to help me make my decisions.

This was all a dream, right? Some sort of beautiful, wonderful dream that I never wanted to wake from? It had to be. Well, if it was all make believe, I supposed asking for what I really wanted wouldn’t hurt any.

She took notes as Natalie watched on. Why was it every time I turned over my shoulder, she seemed to be looking at me?

I sat in the chair, pulled beside the vanity, palming the perfectly proportionate cufflinks, and rolling them between finger and thumb. They were so detailed and well crafted I wondered if Henri had made them himself.

What is wrong with me? These things aren’t mine to take. No matter how wonderful they were.

I deposited the little metal pieces on the counter beside me, folding my hands in my lap, determined not to fidget anymore.

As if reading my mind, Marianne travelled around to the side of the table to face me.

“Well, you’ve been quite the model today.” I nodded in agreement, “I think we’ve put you through more than enough. Now, your custom orders will be shipped to you in approximately ten to twelve weeks. If you need any alterations at all, feel free to come back to the store.”

What a lovely dream this was.

She continued, gesturing to those beautiful suits hung along the dressing room the wall, “Which one was your favorite?”

“Oh, well… I couldn’t possibly— they’re all equally wonderful. You possess incredible skill…”

“I want you to have them.”

Both Natalie and I let out an incredulous exclamation, in sync with one another:

“No, no you’re being far too kind—”

“We couldn’t take them, they belong with you!”

She shook her head smiling warmly first at Natalie, then to me, “He would’ve wanted them to go to a fine young gentleman who can appreciate every stitch, rather than gathering dust in some box. I’d be honored if you’d take them. Think of it as Christmas coming early!”

I was completely taken aback, a rush of emotion making my chest swell and my throat tighten as my vision suddenly blurred, “I— I’m at a complete loss for words… T-thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Alexander. Thank you for coming to visit today.” She leaned down to offer me her finger to shake. With a trembling hand, and biting back tears, I shook her finger tip, squeezing it much harder than was called for, and yet I didn’t imagine it was enough to hurt her, “I’m delighted you like them so much. Why don’t you wear the blue one home? It was always my favorite. Now I’ll finish packing the rest and will wait for you to check out in the other room.”

And suddenly, it was just the girl with the wild hair and warm eyes, and me. She caught my gaze, a smile playing on her lips “Surprise!” She chuckled.

The swell of deep gratitude, delight, overwhelm and pure joy flooded through me once again and I was perilous to keep it at bay. I rushed forward, my leg aching from the effort, as I crashed into her hand, squeezing myself into the hollow of her palm, as I clutched the base of her thumb and wept, mumbling my thanks between tears of joy.

“Oh, Alexander…” she breathed, gently enclosing her fingers around me, embracing me back. Her index finger on her free hand gently caressed my hair, neck and shoulders as I wiped the tears from my eyes. I couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how hard I tried. She held my chin with her fingertip, wiping tears with her thumb, “I’m so happy you’re happy. You deserve this. I’m sorry it took so long… but I’m so glad you finally got what you wanted.” She beamed at me. I bit back more tears. She arched her brow and jutted her chin in that mischievous way she always did, “Now pull yourself together and go be all dapper and shit.” She nudged my arm with her thumb. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

Before long, I found myself perched on the countertop of Marianne’s desk in the front of the shop, dressed to the nines from head to foot. I wore the blue suit, of course, with brown leather shoes, and belt, a silken ochre tie with matching pocket square, cufflinks, and a tie clip. I stood tall as the women above me exchanged money for goods.

I felt a lightness in my body and mind that I hadn’t felt in… well, had I ever felt it? I couldn’t be sure. I had to keep biting the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning ear to ear like some stupid little boy. I’d never been spoiled like this. I’d never been treated like this. I had no idea what to do with myself.

As we were about to leave, Marianne turned to me, her lips curled into a smile. She gazed at me over the rim of her glasses, giving me a clear view of her keen eyes. “Alexander? N'ayez pas peur de lui dire ce que vous ressentez. Il est clair qu'elle t'aime de tout son cœur. Vous méritez le bonheur autant que nous tous.”

*******

I had no clue what she’d said to him, but whatever it was, he looked like he’d been shot through with an arrow, after hearing it. His little eyes went wide and his face burned bright red.

“Hey…” I rubbed his little shoulder, and he seemed to snap out of it. I smiled apologetically at the woman on the other side of the desk, “Sorry, I think he’s just really excited and overwhelmed about everything that happened. Thank you again, for all you did for him.” As I spoke to her, I coaxed the little man into my hand, his movements suddenly sluggish and distracted.

“It was truly such a wonderful thing to meet a pair like you. You give me hope for a better future. Thank you for coming in today. You’re always welcome back at any time.”

“Thank you so much, Marianne!” I echoed her warmth. When Alexander stayed silent, I nudged him a little with my thumb and he seemed to come to.

“Y-yes! Thank you. V-very much!”

What had gotten into him? Maybe the thrill of the whole thing had worn off and he was just exhausted. Because of his dogged determination to push himself to the limits all the time, it was easy to forget how much more effort it took someone of his size to just interact with people so much bigger than him. He was also standing and walking on his injured leg without his crutch for much longer than normal. I wondered if he was in pain and trying to fight through it.

Whatever the case, I was looking forward to getting him home with me, and giving him a chance to relax.

I took in the wonderful sight of him lounging in my palm, his head resting on the pad of my index finger, his calves and ankles hanging off the far edge of my palm, his little hands spread against my skin, keeping himself steady. He stared at his tiny leather shoes, and seemed disinterested in looking in my direction. How funny he was. I wondered what on earth was on his brilliant little mind.

Strange little nightmare, let’s get you home.

___________________________________________

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@tolsizedlove @thegodmother007 @honey-olive @bittykimmy13 @aceouttatime

@liminaldaze @joxter-coded @rosella35 @narrans @rubeau-art

@whatthisfemsheplikes @soapysoap69 @tinystrawberryshifter @thetinylittlespider @gatlily @certainwizardlady @theo-l-ogeneus @windshield-patent @vivianuales @might-be-tiny-gt

@certainwizardguy @closetedgtaccount

#I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I do #a fraction of justice #g/t fluff #size difference #g/t related #g/t writing #gt community #gt #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t

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survivingcollegeonefanficatatime · 3 months ago

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take three.

what the hell is beskar.

it could be an elelment that'd be cool, but Its described as "an alloy" as well as"Iron" and "steel" in the wiki so how dose that work.

is iron lightsaber resistant? is steel? what kind of steel is it? I saw someone say it was high carbon steel, is carbon lightsaber resistant. if it is are people trapped in carbonite lightsaber resistant, that might be cool.

how can you have pure besker if it's an alloy, alloys arn't pure that's the point is it jsut like... a way of saying "we didn't mix any other metal in it's just steel" (is it steel?)

if it's steel how is it natural, I mean i'd accept some planets can natrually produce steel so I guess that's fine. but what if besker is more of a metod of creaton, like it's a spusific way to create steel that makes it besker. that would be really intresting, and it'd be a fun way to worldbuild. I'd imagen if that's the case there's an ancent mandaloral message about how they learned to make besker. it would, however mess with cannon (mines) but the mines could be for the materals for besker, or maybe there's some natrually occuring besker but the alloy could also be produced (but it's really hard and a HEIVALLY garuded secret)

i it's high carbon steel, and it's lightsaber resistant, would it also be considered a dangerous secret for that information to get out?

to be honest this whole thing depends on how the metal is being writen. if it's being writen as just "super melt resistant" then it's a metal with a shockingly high melt point, maybe it's tungsten (beskar as a natrually occuring iron/tungsten alloy, uh Ferrotungsten I think) if it's being writen as force resistant (which I THINK is atually a fannon thing?) then it's gotta be a little werid.

what if it's an isotope? like an isotope of iron, I don't think this idea would be partuarally reolistic but I mean, it's star wars how much do we pay attention to real world accurate science? anyways I think the main diffrence between Iron isotopes are it's weight and ressonance (the vibrational frequency). ok so what if there's like a vibrational frequency that messes with the force and that's the resonance of beskar. it would also explain how force supressors work, they just let out a signal at that spusific frequency.

I don't think that's anywhere near scientifically accurate, I'm overtired and can't be bothered to fact check any of that. but I'd ablsootly accept it if I read it in a fic.

#star wars #mandalorans #beskar #worldbuilding #seriously I'd love for someone to use this idea in a fic its so cool

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osakanone · 7 months ago

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"How realistic are mecha, really?": They aren't, but not for the reason you're thinking of or the one adjacent to it. Trust me.

Crossposted from reddit, since people seemed to like it. Like in the thread, I am very happy to answer questions about any esoteric weirdness.

Hold my beer. Again

They're not becoming a possibility. Yes. I know. This sucks. But stick around. Its not for the reasons you think. Well it is, but it also isn't. You'll see.

The robot needs the technology more than the technology needs a robot.

the technologies which the robot needs will improve and alter the doctrine of every other platform

This creates a doctrinal lock-in where the potential functional space for them to exist is unmet -- that they are so far ahead, that nothing new can emerge that isn't just other platforms becoming more generalized (eg, a post-stall recovery aircraft, or a helicopter with high impact landing-gear and a rigid rotor/jet engine design to act as a surface-fighter -- a tank which walks or manoeuvres like a robot is just flat out of the question: Tanks are made to be simple-as-fuck boxes which tank hits, and shoot and acquire asap and rumours of their deaths as a doctrinal weapon are exaggerated by recent events where obsolete weapons which aren't maintained properly who's crews aren't adequately trained were fighting very clever civilians with drones)

What you consider "realistic" (5th/6th) is just as if not more unrealistic than other gens purely because of their smaller size and very bizarre relationship with the environment -- they're just both too big, and too small to make sense, sitting in a size niche which is just very weird

If such a vehicle does exist, its going to be defined by its functions rather than a humanoid appearance

we know this because specialized platforms tend to beat specialized platforms historically until specialized platforms mature and become generalized

thus, the closest you're probably going to get is some weird variation of DARPA's Ground X Vehicle Project meeting with Gravity Industry' style mobility in limited cases, hybridized with smaller robots and wingsuits, which mix manoeuvring operation styles, with some rocker-boogie mechanism elements for terrain handling: It won't be humanoid, whatever it is.

This is assuming you can magically solve the square-cube law of volume-mass which is partially negatable with certain custom topologies exceeding graphene but actually manufacturing them would be miserable work probably not even be something you can make without microgravity

Energy flat out isn't solvable with what we know about right now. Nothing with that energy density can exist that isn't going to simultaneously make for an incredible fragile, dangerous and problematic source of power given the forces involved. Cooling is also a horrifyingly unsolvable problem on this scale, as is radiation management: You can't just dump molten tungsten in emergency cooling mode - you'll not only proceed to alert everybody who has even the vaguest IRST capacity to your position, but you'll also probably set fire to the environment and cook off your own ammunition. *

Motors aren't well suited to the tasks of such bodies (its like trying to make a slingshot out of dental floss), and we don't have an effective way to turn electricity into a form of motion which corresponds with the shock absorbing and motion control qualities which are actually desirable yet

Even if we did, the actual means of ensuring it doesn't fragment every time it moves don't exist. Every time an A10C fires its main gun, the fuel lines micro-fracture and have to be replaced after it lands. Metal, when you subject it to high physical forces ends up feeling and behaving closer to how you would think of glass. You'd need a material capable of repairing itself too, atop the quasicrystalline property which again, just isn't doable, let alone simultaneously.

So in terms of our mindset going into this?

Its... Probably not happening barring a very, VERY extreme change to how we understand physics to function, or some really kick ass (and actually entirely possible) changes in how engineering achieves outcomes (which could happen if the greatest threat to the mecha didn't exist)

Combat is moving towards information dominance.

That's drone swarms, and role modularized long range travel, and the idea of fighter beyond-visual-range combat extending out to infared search and track systems which are networked to one another, which we're already seeing in singleton weapons and their mounting strategies even on the personal scale, which DARPA is currently investigating which everybody wants to mate with the gravity industries gear for boarding ops so the most likely avenue is to scale up from people, rather than scale down from vehicles as the development pathway -- but there's probably going to be multiple pathways with competing niches once the technology becomes cheap enough.

Costing

Ultimately its down to "how much money do I have to spend to defeat something more expensive than myself?" -- because our current structure of war is defined by cost, and by making the other guys surrender by using economic, and military violence (private, and publicly funded) instead of convincing them that we (NATO members, etc) have good opinions purely because of the natural benefits of "doing as we say" (which we see with basically any conflict in the last 70 years, which are usually feigned as ideological but pretty much always about disrupting market competition, dominating markets, or controlling a pressure position in another country to achieve those two things).

This isn't because they're particularly excellent weapons, but because they're cheap relative to the strength they offer, and how we define cheap is very different to how we defined cheap 100 years ago -- both in good, and terrible ways (such is the way of history).

Mecha are kinda the ultimate boondoggle. They are very very expensive, and just don't make sense.

They're cool as hell, yes.

But they don't make sense.

DISCLAIMER: If you're prone to depression, are dealing with a lot right now, or don't want your day ruining, you should stop reading NOW. What comes next is a psychosocial hazard and could be very bad for your mental health. LAST CHANCE . . .

The "real" reasons

If conflict some how became a meritocracy of leading by excellence rather than intimidation, and about human outcomes instead of cost outcomes, then things could change, but we don't live in that world.

Remember, violence exists to end human conflict (not to be confused with military conflict, which violence is the primary instrument of): Human conflict is when two parties oppose one another and communicate about what their goals and intentions are. Violence happens when communication stops. Communication stops, because parties cannot come to terms, or because nobody wants to be reasonable because the inherent request is unreasonable to the interests of the other party.

I'd love to say physics is the greatest threat, or maybe our concept of conflict but its not: * Its economics.

The concept of private-equity (not to be confused with venture-capital investment) is kiiiind of the dominant economic system on the face of the planet which dictates the interest of every nuclear power's actions against every non-nuclear power) is functionally dissolved, and investment models as we know them magically become better regulated OR a better economic system comes along which totally undermines private equity.

Its an economic finger-trap where most of the money that would be reinvested into people and technologies to push the world forward ends up getting swallowed up.

It also has private armies) and simulates the economy and political events in order to control them for maximum profitability. Yeah.)

We already live in Armored Core, folks.

And that economic system knows that if it gave free agents like ravens any kind of military power, it would functionally undermine itself, which is why it will never happen.

Private equity benefits from not having technology change, because its primary goal is wealth extraction. It leads to the collapse of every business you've ever seen go under, its why products undergo enshittification, which is coming for everything.

Its why the housing crisis happened, why the banking collapse happened, and its why there's an incentive to continue industrializing diseases like insulin instead of curing them.

tl;dr:

The one thing AC gets super wrong is you can either have the depressing relatable low-saturation late-stage hyper-capitalist dystopia where life is cheap on planet earth and everything terrible about South Korea times a thousand covers the whole world, and you need to have your own organs brought from you and leased back to you to lock you in to a lifetime of debt the same way everything else works...

you can have the robot;

You can't have both.

e: I'd pick the robot any day

Apologies for any inaccuracies, I haven't edited this and I threw the original together in the space of around 40 minutes. Questions very welcome: I enjoy giving long detailed and substantiated answers.

If you enjoyed this, please consider reading my other work on the theoretical design factors of mecha, their control systems, and my fictional writing in mechposting.

#mecha #giant robot #gundam #mechposting #Come for the mecha theory #Stay for the social commentary #Heaven will be yours

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carionto · 1 year ago

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The recoil makes it fun

Most everyone in the known Universe agree that a stable and noise-free space ship is preferable to anything not that. You know, due to space being so bad for your health. Stability means safety, noise-free means things are not breaking, which is always great!

Pure silence, however, can be deceptive, so you do want controlled noises in there, such as small beeps at regular intervals indicating that everything is fine. Soft green and blue lights are good.

By that logic, Johann Utsushima then must hate green and blue. His ship, Kitaiyohdzha, is always blaring orange and red lights and barking annoying warnings at him.

Things like: "Low pressure" "High pressure" "Not enough power" "Overload detected" "Insufficient oxygen" "Dangerous oxygen levels"

Like, make up your mind! One or the other, stop it with the extreme ends. Johann has resorted to do the time-honored tradition of ignoring the check engine light and instead stays in his suit all the time. It's his rickety mess and he knows exactly where everything is and how it should be, don't go telling him how to run HIS ship. Especially you, ship, don't tell me you know better.

An astute observer may notice the fact that Kitaiyohdzha is a giant rail gun with a cockpit, engine, thrusters, and basic life support systems attached. Or what's left of them anyway.

Mr Utsushima loves guns. And I mean LOVES them. This one in particular. He can't get enough of it. Literally. He couldn't, so he kept ordering bigger and bigger ones. Kitaiyohdzha is the biggest one (21 meters long) he can legally get without being part of or associated with the military in some way, or registering as a "redistributer". He would not pass the background check to do either.

This, however, does not stop him from modifying his guns. It's a lot of effort, very expensive, and quite complicated. Well, for him. Because he does not document anything and not even God knows how many iterations and past modifications he has made to Kitaiyohdzha to make it what it is today.

None of the matters though. The only time the world makes sense, when everything is exactly as it should be, is when he pulls the trigger.

Space. Quivers.

You can't hear the discharge, but you can feel it from a great distance.

Johann is not at a great distance. Everyone would say he is dangerously close, and be factually correct. Not even a meter from the power generator that enables the rail gun to fire a piece of tungsten at relativistic speeds in order to completely obliterate a poor and unsuspecting little asteroid just gently floating through space. Or is it a meteor? Comet? Doesn't matter, they all explode more or less the same.

Johann likes to watch the recordings of him firing the gun. It lets him know what happened, because the moment he fires Kitaiyohdzha, every time without fail, he loses consciousness from the sudden g-forces hurtling him and the "ship" backwards for thousands of kilometers before the barely functional automatic stabilizers return him to rest.

But that moment right before his mind goes blank. THAT is something you cannot explain to others. You FEEL it. The power. The force. The raw... just, THAT.

It's the only thing that keeps him going. Where to? He doesn't care. Simply forward through life.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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Our planet is choking on plastics. Some of the worst offenders, which can take decades to degrade in landfills, are polypropylene—which is used for things such as food packaging and bumpers—and polyethylene, found in plastic bags, bottles, toys, and even mulch.

Polypropylene and polyethylene can be recycled, but the process can be difficult and often produces large quantities of the greenhouse gas methane. They are both polyolefins, which are the products of polymerizing ethylene and propylene, raw materials that are mainly derived from fossil fuels. The bonds of polyolefins are also notoriously hard to break.

Now, researchers at UC Berkeley have come up with a method of recycling these polymers that uses catalysts that easily break their bonds, converting them into propylene and isobutylene, which are gases at room temperature. Those gases can then be recycled into new plastics.

“Because polypropylene and polyethylene are among the most difficult and expensive plastics to separate from each other in a mixed waste stream, it is crucial that [a recycling] process apply to both polyolefins,” the research team said in a study recently published in Science.

Breaking It Down

The recycling process the team used is known as isomerizing ethenolysis, which relies on a catalyst to break down olefin polymer chains into their small molecules. Polyethylene and polypropylene bonds are highly resistant to chemical reactions, because both of these polyolefins have long chains of single carbon-carbon bonds. Most polymers have at least one carbon-carbon double bond, which is much easier to break.

While isomerizing ethenolysis had been tried by the same researchers before, the previous catalysts were expensive metals that did not remain pure long enough to convert all of the plastic into gas. Using sodium on alumina followed by tungsten oxide on silica proved much more economical and effective, even though the high temperatures required for the reaction added a bit to the cost.

In both plastics, exposure to sodium on alumina broke each polymer chain into shorter polymer chains and created breakable carbon-carbon double bonds at the ends. The chains continued to break over and over. Both then underwent a second process known as olefin metathesis. They were exposed to a stream of ethylene gas flowing into a reaction chamber while being introduced to tungsten oxide on silica, which resulted in the breakage of the carbon-carbon bonds.

The reaction breaks all the carbon-carbon bonds in polyethylene and polypropylene, with the carbon atoms released during the breaking of these bonds ending up attached to molecules of ethylene. “The ethylene is critical to this reaction, as it is a coreactant,” researcher R.J. Conk, one of the authors of the study, told Ars Technica. “The broken links then react with ethylene, which removes the links from the chain. Without ethylene, the reaction cannot occur.”

The entire chain is catalyzed until polyethylene is fully converted to propylene, and polypropylene is converted to a mixture of propylene and isobutylene.

This method has high selectivity—meaning it produces a large amount of the desired product: propylene derived from polyethylene, and both propylene and isobutylene derived from polypropylene. Both of these chemicals are in high demand; propylene is an important raw material for the chemical industry, while isobutylene is a frequently used monomer in many different polymers, including synthetic rubber and a gasoline additive.

Mixing It Up

Because plastics are often mixed at recycling centers, the researchers wanted to see what would happen if polypropylene and polyethylene underwent isomerizing ethenolysis together. The reaction was successful, converting the mixture into propylene and isobutylene, with slightly more propylene than isobutylene.

Mixtures also typically include contaminants in the form of additional plastics. So the team also wanted to see whether the reaction would still work if there were contaminants. They experimented with plastic objects that would otherwise be thrown away, including a centrifuge and a bread bag, both of which contained traces of other polymers besides polypropylene and polyethylene. The reaction yielded only slightly less propylene and isobutylene than it did with unadulterated versions of the polyolefins.

Another test involved introducing different plastics, such as PET and PVC, to polypropylene and polyethylene to see if that would make a difference. These did lower the yield significantly. If this approach is going to be successful, then all but the slightest traces of contaminants will have to be removed from polypropylene and polyethylene products before they are recycled.

While this recycling method sounds like it could prevent tons upon tons of waste, it will need to be scaled up enormously for this to happen. When the research team increased the scale of the experiment, it produced the same yield, which looks promising for the future. Still, we’ll need to build considerable infrastructure before this could make a dent in our plastic waste.

“We hope that the work described … will lead to practical methods for … [producing] new polymers,” the researchers said in the same study. “By doing so, the demand for production of these essential commodity chemicals starting from fossil carbon sources and the associated greenhouse gas emissions could be greatly reduced.”

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ser-i-vant · 3 months ago

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₅₄Xe

i never properly introduced these mooks to the world, despite always wanting to. look at my white haired men (and yvit too, hi yvit) the main characters of my funny little fan-story called Tungsten Latticework. they have the protagonist curse of Never Being Allowed To Have A Nice Time Ever [read about them under the cut vvv]

being technically the same person, they share a rough upbringing. coming from a reasonably well-respected, but brutally harsh household, they never knew much kindness in life, and turned inward to focus on their studies - the only way they figured they might get the appreciation they desperately lacked. until the zariman incident, that is... they're both extremely intelligent (especially in the field of engineering), and extremely volatile people. bitter and resentful to the core, everything about them is sharp and unfriendly - inward and outward

to the left is 54 (fifty-four), or fif for short. he takes the role of the drifter, duviri's great and terrible outlaw. an eternity of waking up only to die left quite the mark on his psyche, coating his tongue in venom and sparking embers between his teeth. he'd give anything to get out of duviri once and for all, but he's halted by the existence of his counterpart in the origin system: two of the same person can't live in the same plane of existence. no matter how hard he tries, he's stuck in a prison of his own making. it drives him mad he makes quick friends (""friends"") with lodun. you know, the guy who killed him a kjhillion times. it works out as well as one might expect; two stubborn, bullish hotheads with a penchant for violence... but like knows like. "there's one guy in this kingdom who understands me and i fucking hate him". they somehow sort of get along. fif usually does whatever oddjob lodun tasks him with, purely to feel like he's doing something useful with his forever-time. to feel like he belongs

to the right is xenon. he takes the role of the operator, the fierce and fearless tenno. he hates that title. he hates all of it, he hates being a killer. so, after The Sacrifice, he too leaves the tenno faction. he opts to work with the corpus, to invent technologies to hinder his kinsmen. he works under alad v (who else would be insane enough to get a tenno on board), and despite taking a while to adjust, he flourishes in this environment. he finds immense success with his inventions and prototypes. it's killing him. he's never felt more unhappy in his life, but... this is what he wanted, right? he tries to choke the feeling down with praise from his accomplishments, and it almost doesn't fail he's still haunted by his past. not only that, but entities beyond his understanding seek to make his waking and sleeping hours just a little bit worse. the man in the wall torments him - mocks him - in the form of a mangled corpse-twin. from a different angle, a metaphysical copy of him is threatening to take the miserable little life he'd spent so long carving out for himself. xenon is terrified every single day of his life. dude can't catch a break

tucked away beside xenon is his cephalon, yvit. he is a sweetheart. originally an orange octahedron, xenon granted him a humanoid body as part of an experiment. he definitely has very specific feelings about it, but he manages to push them down deep inside. he would never reject a gift from his operator yvit certainly has a lot on his mind, but he's a competent and kind companion to xenon (who takes this love for granted like crazy. if only he allowed himself to be loved...). he particularly enjoys history and record-keeping, being able to recite many codices by heart (though he is a machine, so it's sort of cheating). likes keeping his appearance tidy, especially with his new body

#white hair ✓ mental problem ✓#they're very Calm and Reasonable people...#who don't go on to ruin their lives in spectacular ways at all...#also standing in The Nothing again. love drawing characters hate doing backgrounds. simple as #warframe #warframe oc #drifter oc #operator oc #cephalon oc #fif fiftyfour #xenon #cephalon yvit #tungsten latticework #tungslatt #ev art

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akshayenterprises46 · 7 months ago

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analogwriting · 1 year ago

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Childhood Crush

Chapter 15: Bronze

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.5k a/n: this part ended up being almost 7k words so i split it into two, so y'all getting a twofer (two for one - 241 - all that jazz) also relentlessly puts asking alexandria lyrics in it bc im still in mourning next

There wasn’t exactly a plan on dealing with Kese perse, but everyone agreed to let you take care of it for the most part. Everyone was going to act normal until you made your move. Follow your plays and whatnot. Though, Eustass just wanted to kill the fucker. He was beyond pissed - which was understandable. You’d also be so astronomically livid if someone lied to you about your brother dying only to find out he was alive the whole time. Even Killer seemed to be on the bandwagon for kill first, ask questions later for a little while.

But, you wanted to get answers first. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity. Maybe it was because you wanted to take his life with your own hands. Or maybe it was just you wanted to put absolute fear into his being. You wanted to see him beg for his life.

Shit, you didn’t know what you wanted. And there was no telling how you’d really react when you saw him either. You couldn’t help but feel a growing anxiety. Everything he said back then was hitting you right now. While you didn’t exactly believe them anymore, you remembered the pure devastation you had felt when he had said them. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory.

“What’s so funny?” You were pulled out of your thoughts as Eustass spoke. You were still stitching him up as his injuries were a bit more on the serious side. It was just the two of you as the others gathered and prepared themselves for heading back to the ship. “Just thinking about what Kese said before I left.”

He stopped, looking at you. “Wait, he said something to you? What?”

Right. You never told him all that. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I feel dumb for falling for it now, but yeah. He said some shit that fucked up my psyche there for a while.”

“Is that why you had started to pull away from us? And you left?”

You were quiet, but your silence spoke volumes. You felt anger radiate from Eustass even more. “That mother fu-”

“Tungsten. I’m going to take care of it. Like I said, I need information and also this is the best way for me to get closure.” He looked at you for a long moment before groaning. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“What did he even say?” You were quiet for a moment, not wanting to admit it. It felt silly now. You know that your brother and crewmates would’ve never said the awful things he had referenced, but you were at such a low point that you would’ve believed anything.

“Bigs?” You looked up at him and sighed. Just as he couldn’t say no to you - you couldn’t say no to him. As you dabbed one of the cuts on his arm - his only arm, which you still couldn’t believe - you explained what happened that night. He was quiet, but you could feel him seething.

“You know none of it is true, right?” He waited until you were done before he had spoken, which wow. That’s growth. Him waiting to speak? Who taught him that? He was the king of interrupting people. You felt a moment of pride, but the somber mood was too heavy for you to really revel in it.

With a long sigh, you nodded. “I do now. It was stupid of me to believe him, I know. But…” Your face fell and he shook his head. “You were in a dark place, I know.”

“Let us not forget that I’m the one that forced you to go along with me,” he said with a smug smile. You mirrored his expression and laughed. “Not completely. I did end up deciding myself. You made yourself quite the compelling case.”

“Only because Killer put the cherry on top.” He paused. “And because he was the cherry on top,” he mumbled, but you didn’t quite make it out. “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You-”

The both of you laughed before falling into a somber silence. “You did more than anyone on the ship when it boiled down to it,” he said. You looked at him for a moment. “Tungsten, you don’t have to lie to make me fee-”

“It’s not a lie though. You did so fucking much for us. You made all of us stronger and our lives easier. You strengthened Dive’s teeth, gave Heat the ability to fucking breathe fire, taught both Heat and Wire how to smith, made various different kinds of machines n’ shit to help make ship life even easier, not to me-”

“Okay, okay. I get it.”

“I’m so serious, Bigs. And that’s not just the ship. The four of us definitely wouldn’t have lived without you growing up. I’m serious.” You looked at him, your eyes slightly widening as the playful mood was turning more sincere by the second and you felt your cheeks heat up. You didn’t know where all this sentiment was coming from and you didn’t know how to handle it.

“You’re a ray of fucking sunshine on our goddamn ship and I’ll be damned if I let someone take that away again,” he grumbled, looking away from you. “Everyone was super upset when you left - so don’t do that shit again.” You felt so many different waves of emotion right now. Eustass was never one to convey his actual feelings. You weren’t either. The both of you had your own way of expressing your love for each other, just as all siblings did.

But, hearing it was a lot different and you didn’t know how to react. You felt your brain doing a hard reboot.

“I didn’t…” No words were coming from you.

“Don’t get sappy, you know I hate that shit.” He didn’t look at you, keeping his head turned from you, clearly embarrassed from his own outburst. You couldn’t help but let out a small smile, moving on and finishing up dressing his wounds.

“Didn’t stop you though, huh?”

“What did you say?” He turned his eyes towards you, narrowing his eyes.

“You heard me, Tungsten. I think you’re the sappy one of the two of us.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.” The two of you glared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. You really missed Eustass. Well, of course you did - he was your brother.

You finished up, standing and dusting yourself off, Eustass following suit. “Alright, everyone! Let’s head out!”

Once more, you felt anxiety creeping back in. You weren’t sure how you wanted to handle the situation. You weren’t good with emotions. You weren’t good at verbally conveying them. Hell, at this point, your own anger probably would take over and you’d kill Kese for all you knew. But, you knew you needed answers first. You’d just have to remember that.

You were somewhat falling behind the group, thinking. A million scenarios ran through your head, but none of them seemed to be the way you wanted to go. The way you needed it to go. Though, what way did it even need to go? You weren’t sure. Ugh, thinking about it was hurting your head.

Finally, the ship came into view and honestly you couldn’t have been happier. This place had become your home. It felt more like home than your dingy home back on the island ever did. And now you were back, just as you needed to be. Everything felt right again.

“Ready?” You looked over, seeing that Killer had joined you. You sighed, shaking your head. “No, but I don’t have a choice, do I?” That laugh rang through, making you jump slightly. It was mostly just startling at this point because it was so loud and sudden. You smiled at him, trying not to show that it had startled you. You already knew he was sensitive about it, you didn’t want to add to it.

“I just don’t even know what I want to do. Or how I’ll react.”

“I mean, the captain and I can just take him out.”

“Okay, but that wouldn’t solve anything.”

“One less bastard to hurt you in the world - I’d say it’s worth it.” You paused for a moment. Did he just say to hurt ‘you’. Surely it was just a slip of the tongue, right? Yeah. He probably just meant in general. Just as there was a royal ‘we’, perhaps it was a royal ‘you.’

Before you could say anything, however, a voice rang through the night.

“You guys are back! How did it - oh shit.” You looked up, seeing the very bastard that brought so much pain and misery to your life without even trying. Fuck, you felt so stupid for letting him get to you in the way that he did. He was staring at you with wide eyes, obviously surprised to see you. You saw the fear plastered all over his face.

Something in the back of your brain snapped. “‘Oh shit’ is right motherfucker.” In moments you were on the ship and he was running, obviously trying to escape your wrath. You threw your dagger, catching him in the shoulder and sending him to the ground.

You were standing over him, seething. “What the fuck is your issue with me? What the fuck did I do to you?”

He was groaning and rolling around, clutching his shoulder. “Oh shove a pipe in it and answer me.” All it took was a dagger to the shoulder to take him down? You expected more from someone in your brother’s crew. Especially with the way he had been acting before - all high and mighty.

“Y/n, you’re not dead!” He looked at you, feigning surprise. “This is wonderful, but can I ask why you’re coming straight after me? What did I do?” He looked over as your brother was boarding the ship. “Captain! I think they’ve lost it!”

Eustass was on the ship now, folding his arms as he watched the scene before him. “You brought this upon yourself. And if I were you, I’d answer their fucking questions.” He shrugged, an amused, shiteating grin on his face. “It’s in your best interest.” He sat on a crate, giving himself a front row seat to whatever the fuck was about to unfold.

“You’re only still alive right now because of their mercy,” Killer chimed in, standing next to your brother.

You looked from them back down to Kese, who was looking up at you with wide eyes. “I-I swear I didn’t know you were alive!”

You knelt down, ripping your dagger out of his shoulder and he cried out. “You and I both know that’s a load of horseshit.” You slammed the dagger into the wood next to his head. “Now fucking answer me,” you spat.

“Please! I just wanted to be a part of the Kid Pirates and Myra-”

Your heart almost stopped. Why the hell was he mentioning her? Did he do something to her? Was she okay? Was Lily okay? “What?” You ripped the dagger out of the deck and pressed it to his throat. “What the fuck does Myra have to do with this? What did you do to her?” You were drawing blood at this point and he was terrified. His voice was shaking and he was blubbering like a baby. Man, you felt like a fucking fool for ever having feared him.

“I-I didn’t do anything! I was just doing what she told me to do! I wanted to be a pirate on this ship and she wanted you!”

You stopped. What? What the hell was he talking about? Wanted you? What the hell did he mean by that? Every answer he gave was raising another in its place. You looked at your brother who shook his head. “Do you have that letter?” you asked. He nodded, pulling it out of his person. “You fucking keep it on you?” He didn’t answer you, just handed it to you. “Shut it,” he grumbled.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how Eustass had really been fairing this whole time, but it wasn’t well. You could tell that much. You could only imagine how you would react if someone told you your little brother died. Shit, he was the only reason you kept going when the both of you were younger. Just as he said he and his friends wouldn’t have been here without you, you wouldn’t have been here without him.

You opened it up, reading it over. You blinked as the words sank in. You looked at the picture that accompanied it. You knew this picture. You had been on a ladder to get some paints and on your way climbing down, you spilled all the paints and fell in the process. The photo was black and white, so you wouldn’t even be able to tell the colors of the paint. And you had been dazed at the time of the picture.

You remember moments after this picture, you sat up laughing. The whole lab was. But, with the way she had taken the picture along with the lack of color, it really did look like some kind of lab accident. You really did look dead. It was real uncanny valley.

Was Myra behind all of this?

“Bigs?”

You looked at your brother. “I know this picture. I had a stumble with some paints. That’s all it is. Paint.” You looked back down at it, paling. Was it all just a cover up? Why did she want your brother to think you were dead? Did it have to do with Kese saying she wanted you?

You knelt back down, glaring at Kese who yelped and backed away from you as he still clutched his shoulder. “Fucking spill, you incompetent son of a bitch.” You pointed the knife at his throat.

He stared at you with wide eyes. “She’ll kill me!”

“Keeping your tongue tight? I’ll kill you first if you don’t.” You pressed the knife into his throat, once again drawing blood. He yelped, sobbing. Fuck, he was pathetic. “O-Okay! Okay…”

“I-I’m from the island. The one where Myra’s from. I was one of her students and I always dreamt of bein-”

“Fucking-” You slammed the knife, the one Myra had specifically given to you, into his leg. He screamed, clutching it and sobbing. “You fucking stabbed me!” You glared at him.

“Cut your losses, you’re on thin ice, tread light,” you ground out. “I don’t fucking care about all that, get to the fucking important parts - you’re testing my fucking patience,” you spat, glaring at him, making him squeak. Fuck. Was he always like this? Why did Eustass keep him around?

Kese, despite his current wound that you’d given him, took a deep breath and started once more. “The c-captain was gaining notoriety and honestly, so were you. But, in the scientific community. Since you always visited the labs and tended to help out there, talk of you spread.” You blinked. You didn’t realize that you had your own reputation. Eustass and Killer were the ones with the large bounty - you didn’t even have one. At least, not at that time. You weren’t doing any fighting. You were just…researching and building. Doing what you did best.

“Myra wanted you to join her research team. Said she could use a sharp mind like yours. She also knew how I wanted to join the captain’s crew. So, she sent me to drive a wedge between you and the captain.” You felt like you were going to be sick. Your body went rigid with the pure, unbridled rage you were feeling. Myra seemed like she genuinely cared about you the entire time you were on the island. You couldn’t imagine her going through such lengths.

Fuck, you felt like a fool.

“I don’t fucking understand…then why would she send me here?”

Kese shook his head. “I-I don’t know.” You shot him a glare and he started crying all over again. “I swear, I don’t! She was supposed to just keep you at the island! I had no idea she was sending you here!”

This must’ve been what she meant by she had people here. Kese had been a mole this entire time and you were none the wiser. You played right into her hands. She had gotten exactly what she wanted. You stood up, swaying a bit from the headache you were developing. You didn’t know what to think about everything.

The woman you had just spent two years with…essentially playing house with as well. It was all a lie. Was Lily in on it too? No, that was impossible. She was too young to understand things like this, right?

You felt a hand to your back and you stiffened for a moment before you calmed. “Are you okay?” you heard Killer’s voice, but it sounded…so far away, despite him standing so close.

You looked at him for a moment before looking back down at Kese. You didn’t know. You didn’t know how you felt about any of this. Why the sudden change of heart in sending you straight to your brother? Did she feel guilty? You stared at the dagger next to Kese’s head, staring at the logo of the lab etched into it.

Numbness washed over you and you didn’t feel like you were in your body anymore. You couldn’t stand this, it was never meant to end up being this hard to process. “Do whatever the fuck you want to him. I’m over it.” Your voice was hollow, strained. You just wanted to go to bed at this point. You were…so tired. Nothing was processing. Your brain was trying to wrap around it all, but it was too much.

“W-What? N-No! Please!”

“Killer, you pick ‘em up with-” As your brother and his vice captain planned on whatever fate they had for Kese, you sauntered off. It wasn’t long before the traitor’s screams tore through the night.

“Y/n?” You looked up, seeing Dive prancing over to you. “Are you going to bed already?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. “We still need to celebrate the victory!” She huffed, shaking her head.

“Besides, we haven’t had your cooking in forever! Would you make something for us? Pleeeease?”

“Now, now, Dive. You should let them rest. They’ve been through a lot. We’re not celebrating until tomorrow anyway.” You looked up, seeing Wire standing there. You nodded in agreement with him, a tired smile spreading across your features. “I’ll make sure to cook everyone’s favorites tomorrow, okay?” You ruffled her hair.

“I want to sleep too!” You blinked, looking at her. “You wanna have a sleepover?” You grinned at her. You did this a few times before. Sometimes, when she first joined, she had nightmares of some kind and would be up a lot. So, she’d come hang out with you in the lab, sometimes you both would end up falling asleep curled up on the futon in the lab. Most of the time you didn’t remember falling asleep with a blanket on, but there always ended up being one. Even when Dive wouldn’t sleep with you now that you thought about it.

You shook your thoughts away as Dive spoke with excitement. “Yeah! Sleepover!” You smiled, turning to head towards your lab. “Keep an eye on them, yeah?” You heard Wire say to Dive. Ah, she wanted to make sure you were okay. You appreciated it, honestly. None of anything felt real right now. You were on the verge of a mental break, you could feel it. Someone to ground you would be good right now.

Part of you felt like if you woke up tomorrow, you’d end up back at the lab and this was all a dream.

You opened the door to your lab, blinking. Everything was exactly how you had left it. “The captain didn’t let anyone touch it after you left. Especially after…” Dive joined you once more and you looked over at her. You nodded, looking back. Everything had a fine layer of dust on it. You were going to need to do some serious cleaning, but you were too tired to do that right now.

“We can sleep in my bed,” Dive offered. Exhaustion was eating away at you and you nodded. You didn’t have any energy to argue or clean your own area. That was tomorrow’s problem. “That sounds lovely,” you mumbled with a yawn as he followed her to her room. She shared a room with Quincy, but you knew that the woman wouldn’t mind in the slightest if you stayed there for the night.

You crawled into bed, the smaller woman jumping into the bed with you with a laugh. She started prattling on about something or another, probably knowing that you just needed to not be alone with your own thoughts.

Which didn’t even end up mattering as you were asleep within moments.

#how many lyrics did i cram into here????#that's for me to know and you to not know #maybe idk if you're a fan of them like me tho lmfao #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #am fics #cc #also hope you liked the confrontation im terrible at this

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