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strangerays · 3 years ago

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Nothing in Particular and Everything Writing Update

June 2022

hey there!! It took me basically my entire senior year, but I completed part one of draft two of the book! I want to start posting more on here now that I’ll be on summer vacation in the coming months. for now, i have for you some excerpts from the first few eight chapters of the story!

click here for the WIP intro!

The second draft has been totally different from the first draft - the book is split into four parts, i deleted a lot of characters, added so many more, rearranged the ending (and made it SO much more edgy), and, most importantly, my writing style evolved a little bit more!

TL;DR: i am alive and i am writing

also sorry before you continue there are a few typos in here that i was too lazy to fix at this point

Excerpt 1, Chapter One: A Third Eye

[text]:

I was a firm believer that the best art is created when the artist is lonely, angry, or depressed.In the summer that led up to my best friend’s train to Ivy Coast, I was surprised to find that I became none of these things. We buried a time capsule beneath the towering pines of Sugarfell and painted his bedroom walls a calm cerulean. We snuck out of house at night to swim and went on a road trip to see our favorite band in concert. My most colorful memories in Point Blink were unplanned in the beginning.

Sheltered in pitch crags, spotted with shallow tide pools congested by cigarettes, Mothouse loitered over the romping blue bay on unsteady docks. With Lonan at college, his aunt owned and operated the beach house bakery on her own. In her nephew’s place, I wasn’t of much help, as I was afraid to retrieve flour from the basement or hold large knives.

I never worked weekends, but I went to Mothouse on Sunday to watch the amber morning glint through the tide. Toes curled in the baking sand, I raised my camera to my eye and focused on the melodic thrill of the waves. Satisfaction relaxed my shoulders. Gulls forked the cream clouds, orange in their coming and going. A comforting breeze unknotted my pumpkin-blond roots. Early in the morning as it was, sailors rode the motions of the wind. A piper toothed the dark shore for drowned beetles.

I took the photo, saving my little moment for another day.

Excerpt 2, Chapter One

[text]:

The truth was this: age was fiction to me. When I lifted my camera to my eye, saw the world as more beautiful than it was, the trees richer, the waves more childlike in their frothing, none of that seemed real. When birds called my name over the burst of a wave onto the cliffs. When storms sent shadows to dance across my windows. My most purple imagination couldn’t convince me everything was going to be okay – my best friend left me. All of these little things were stark reminders of his absence in Point Blink. That new shells would wash onto the shore every night. Vacationers would check out to return home. Clouds parted and sent sunlight to warm my shoulders, pale from the months I’d spent inside wishing he would change his mind.

But he didn’t.

I tried to hold a moment forever. But time isn’t fiction; it’s an hourglass. Lately, my life had felt more like a rusted compass with a broken face. All of it – everything I’d built to shelter the storm – destroyed when he left me.

Excerpt 3, Chapter Four: People-watching

[text]:

Sugarfell used to house docks to the ferry that passed between Point Blink and the city. When Dad turned sixteen, the ferry business went under, so train tracks were built along the highway to replace it. If I climbed to the highest boulder in the forest, I had a glimpse of the docks at the edge of the water. They were no more than a pile of bloated wood. Whipping branches had left them flecked. Sometimes people slunk into the muggy water and swam out to an unnamed island, sparse with naked trees and blanketed in purple fog. We sailed there in a rowboat for a field trip when I was in elementary school to turn over rocks for salamanders; now the shores are clogged with red solo cups and underwear.

In the July that Lonan turned eighteen, we decided to play hide and seek in the forest. Maybe it was stupid, considering our age, but we didn’t care so much about that. Florian and Ellis rarely visited Sugarfell anymore. Mostly, they spent their vacation shopping or on the beach, so whenever Lonan went out to Sugarfell, I heartily tagged along with him.

I became a thief to Lonan’s behaviors. He was the most observant person I knew. When I stared through a camera lens, tree trunks took on the shapes of strangers I’d noticed in town: oak roots serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like sweet elderly hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes. Little tantrums of nature.

Excerpt 4, Chapter Four

[text]:

I couldn’t place this feeling – like talking underwater or pulling in a game of tug-of-war. It was the panic of losing Lonan that I couldn’t understand – a panic I thought would be gone now that I wasn’t such a child anymore. This wasn’t frustration or impatience – it was genuine panic. My chest ached as though a panicked animal were trying to claw its way out from the inside. I did not want to let it free; I did not want Lonan to see whatever wounded leg or mangy fur it might bear.

I swallowed.

It became very clear to me in that moment that fear did not have a grip on most people the way it had a grip on me.

Excerpt 5, Chapter Five: Heir of the Waves

*Typo: ‘The [sun] settled deep in my bones.’

[text]:

Dad used to take me on adventures; I remember every single one of them. We packed pepperoni and salami in plastic, chilled cans of Pepsi inside a red cooler, and crammed blankets into the backseat of the car with me. He patted my childish, bruised knees, said I looked like a pearl tucked away in there.

The sea, violent and knowing as it romped into the cliff face, opened its great jaws wide when Dad stomped through the oil-like water to hold me above his waist. I kicked my legs, baby fat jiggling against his calloused hands, murmuring songs in my little voice. When I was a few years older, I danced over the murky seaweed beds, pretended I was the Sugarplum Queen or a swan glistening with cool sweat. Sunlight marbled across the black sea and deepened the rose in my cheeks. Unafraid of what lurked beyond verdant patches of lily flowers, I squished cold sand between my toes, rolled onto my back, floated until I was far from the shore. The settled deep in my bones. I created monsters to dive deep and lurk beneath me. I made myself a princess among them, untouchable.

At seventeen years old, I didn’t imagine anything like that.

Excerpt 6, Chapter Six: Mentors

Jude’s introduction!

[text]:

Arms and legs flitted all around me like sweet steam when I stepped off the bus. The nature center’s stone steps crumbled and flattened dry rose bushes in the garden. The doors had not opened in years. Elbowing more than one person, I shuffled out of the crowd and tipped my chin up, closed my eyes so that when the maple branches overhead fluttered apart, sunlight dappled my face. My skin crackled with the warmth.

At the opposite end of the crowd stood a girl not taller than the graffitied entrance sign she leaned against, most noticeable because of the bright blue baseball cap she wore and the grim pucker of her lips. When she noticed me staring at her, they curved into a sharp smile. She lifted her nose to the shifting clouds as I had. The dull sun highlighted the spaces underneath her eyes smooth sienna, and her round cheeks shimmered.

Excerpt 7, Chapter Seven: At Least You Can Still Watch The Sun Rise

[text]:

I suppose – in many ways – I didn’t talk to anyone about Lonan. Not about school, either. About my friends, about the headaches I kept getting every night, about how I’d lost my appetite completely last week.

Jude tapped her fingers together.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to tag along with you,” she said.

I swallowed.

“That’s why you wanted to come down here on your own, isn’t it?”

Her arm brushed mine and it was so warm. It reminded me of the safe feeling I got whenever Florian hugged me.

A breeze trickled through the trees we’d come from and cascaded faint sparkles across the water, feathered the waves away from the shore. Briefly, the gray clouds pulled apart the fog, and pale sunlight touched Jude’s cheeks, drawing a smile from her lips. It seemed that, even in the darkest moments, she managed to find something to love. It made me jealous in a nonsensical sort of way.

Her eyes were closed. “At least you can still watch the sun rise.”

Excerpt 8, Chapter Eight: Savior Complex

[text]:

“Well,” Jude said. “I had a group of girls I used to hang out with at school, but we’d go ages without talking.” She cast a thoughtful look to the ocean. “In a way, I guess they weren’t really my friends after all. But I’ve always found that the best things have happened to me when I break away from what I’m used to.”

In the moment I looked up from my hands to realize that she was talking about me, there was a horrible groan from underneath us, entirely unhuman – the sound a dying machine makes when it is unable to hold itself up any longer. The stairway shrugged and softened. I held on tight to the railing, peeling wood splintering my skin as I slid down, down, down.

Slowly, then all at once, I became aware of a tinny smell. The unmistakable smell of burning metal.

I didn’t have time to check and see if Jude was still behind me before she fell into me.

Lonan came to me all at once: we were dissolved into black. We must not have been that far up, because it didn’t take long to hit the ground. There was something soft underneath me – my bag or Jude’s arm. I could not see the sky – then light exploded from the veil we were trapped in. Jude’s hand found mine, and I think she might have been telling me to move, but she was shouting, and I couldn’t tell what she was saying, though I think she wanted me to move. I dragged myself through the grass, now pasty with smoke, infiltrating my throat, my eyes, my head – everything. It softened the world, made it easier to forget, but no easier to breathe.

Jude screamed – a sound I never should have heard – and it brought hot tears to my eyes. Distantly, someone else screamed. It might have been me, but I wasn’t sure. Sirens wailed somewhere. We never heard many of them in Point Blink. I smelled of salt and smoke.

What a fool I’d been to believe it possible I could carry on without my best friends, and what a fool Jude had been to think she could replace them.

She ran.

--[end of excerpts]--

tag list [ask to be +/-]: @wannabeauthorzofija @mishkakagehishka @writeherewaiting @friendlyneighborhoodwizard @kingsinking @author-a-holmes

thank you for reading my book! next time I post excerpts, I will have graduated from high school *high five*

#nothing in particular and everything #my writing #i can clearly see exactly what needs to happen in part 2 so here is to hoping it goes smoothly for me #i'll be taking a short break from the book until then #summer vacation here i come

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sukiglycerin · 4 years ago

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starless fairy tales || keigo takami, katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: keigo takami (hawks) x reader x katsuki bakugou (gender neutral!)

* genre: it’s a sandwich: angst on the top, fluff in the middle, and angst at the end :) not fantasy DLKFSF IM SORRY

* words: 5.2k, somehow

* warnings: angsty, reader is wary of hawks at first, tokyo skytree!! so don’t read if you’re terribly afraid of heights, a reference to blood for a small metaphor, a reference to the league of villains ;P, cliffhanger ending that i’m not sure i’ll resolve

* original request from @bien-sur: hey, saw you wanted requests and I read through some of your work, really loved the Hawks one shot!! i’m a sucker for enemies who make out. i’m feeling angsty so uh maybe, if you want, a bakugo one-shot where he kind of uh cheats on the reader...? or maybe just hurts her feelings very badly? maybe the reader feels numb for a while but is comforted by Keigo, and the reader realizes they deserve better? so sorry if this is out of your comfort zone or it’s dark content(?) anyways I like your writing so i’ll read a few more of your works before going to bed :)) thank you, i appreciate u taking the time to do requests regardless of whether you do mine :)

* a/n: ENEMIES TO LOVERS IS SUPERIOR!! i was so excited to write an enemies piece with hawks. this showcases the soft, kind side of hawks so i hope you enjoy it !! thank you sooo much for being so kind in your request! this request is completely fine. i added much more plot than i’d expected, and learned sooo much about tokyo skytree. i couldn’t do infidelity because it hurts me too much and i love bakugou too much. i tried to keep the angst.,., but happy birb..,., this might become a multi-chap fic, as i do have a plot jumbled in my head because of the cliffhanger, and i’d like to develop more aspects of your request! for now, it’s up to your interpretation! biggest thing i got out of this: i now really, really want to go to tokyo skytree.

* synopsis: you had a fairy tale love with bakugou until your prince became the villain for vague reasons. in a moment of serendipity, you find a new prince, hawks, who just might take you high enough to reach the stars you’d so longed for. sometimes your dreams are only a train ride and a couple elevator trips away.

love was like a fairy tale. at least, that’s what you’d believed. love, with its ornate leather cover and soft golden embellishments. the pages would be worn but so cherished; the black ink printed in a pretty font, telling of charming words and whispered promises under the shining moonlight and twinkling stars. it was supposed to be your security, a castle hidden in the lush forest away from the horrors of the world. your castle would hold you and bakugou for an eternity, kept away in the pages of a pretty love story.

alas, even the strongest of castles fall, and the most beautiful of forests mangle. yours just happened to be a bit quicker. contrary to the illusion bakugou had painted in your fairy tale, your castle was not of stone nor brick nor iron. it was not of anything but sand, waiting for its turn to be washed away by the sea. your castle slipped through your fingers; the once elaborate stronghold now swept into the depths of the cerulean sea. what had once been painted seashells of wondrous hues and crystals that illuminated the night were now pebbles and corroded versions of things that had once been. it had slipped through your fingers so easily without a passing thought; now here you were, in your deserted kingdom, playing the fool.

like the sand past your fingers, love had once come easy for you and bakugou. it was always there, drifting in the air as you walked or swirling above your heads while you bickered. love was supposed to be easy, like how your hand just fit in bakugou's as if sculpted after many lives with him. love was supposed to be easy, like how bakugou aced his tests in school and nonchalantly taught you math so you wouldn't have to attend cram school. love was supposed to be easy, like how it had been for forever with bakugou. but your fairy tale was now coming to a close, velvet curtains falling and pages turning to dust.

you wondered if there were any fairy tales on the shelves of books bakugou had. contrary to popular belief at ua, bakugou was an avid reader. it was clear by the shelves that lined the wall in his dorm and the stacks of unread books on his nightstand. you never touched them, though bakugou had said you were free to pick them up whenever you wanted. the only time you’d touched a book from his bookshelf was when he pushed a book of yosano akiko’s to you.

the colored spines of the books on his shelf in your shared apartment all blurred like paint on a palette as you stared at them, bakugou’s voice becoming a fading afterthought.

“y/n? y/n, please…” the voice which had so held you in its tight warmth went cold and unfamiliar. a light flickered out in your castle, and so started the crumbling.

“say…” you started, your throat clogged with disbelief, “it again.”

“please, don’t make me…” his voice trailed off. you could feel his deep scarlet eyes trained on you. “i just…. i’m not in love with you anymore, y/n.” his voice cracked. “you’ve got to understand. please.”

your hand trembled in your lap, your vision shifting out of focus like a faulty camera.

“i tried to feel something, i really did. but…. i can’t.”

“how- how long?” your voice shook.

he paused. “a month… or two, by now?” he reached out to take your hand in his, but it no longer felt right. it was as if his hand was no longer yours to hold. you tensed, moving your hand away.

a light went out in his eyes as he understood and receded his hand. a tower fell in your castle.

“okay,” you said, turning away from him. tears dripped down your face silently and you quickly wiped them away with your sleeve. you stood up from the couch. “i’ll get my things,” you hollowly said, walking toward your shared room with him.

“you don’t need to,” bakugou said. the voice emitted from his throat was no longer his, but the shadow of a stranger’s. “not this fast, at least. don’t force yourself.”

“what makes you say that?” you snapped a bit too harshly. “sorry,” you added quietly.

packing your things was a numbing process. you left the photos of him and you on his nightstand, on top of his pile of unread books. you shoved it all in a backpack you had lying around; your clothes, your phone, your books. you took one last glance around the room and left. bakugou was still sitting on the couch wordlessly, not bothering to say farewell to you as you opened the door and walked out. not that you would’ve responded anyway.

you realized you may have made a miscalculation as you stood cluelessly in the lobby of the apartment building. you had nowhere to go. you fumbled with your phone in your backpack and pulled up your contacts. you knew of no one in your contacts who’d let you stay; they were either on vacation or far away. in truth, bakugou was your closest friend since childhood. he was your map, your guide, your destination; where were you without him?

the wind brushed your cheek as you stood outside the entrance, watching cars pass. the world felt so big compared to the mere side character of you, who buildings loomed over like menacing shadows. it was a somewhat comforting moment, being an alone speck in the grand scheme of things. like this, it was for only a moment you’d forgotten why you were out here in the first place. you’d forgotten the warm feeling that once nestled itself in your heart, instead enraptured by the freeing breeze that rustled in it.

red. then a breeze. that’s all you saw, eyes widening and stepping back. a man no older than you stood in front of you, hands in his pockets. vermillion wings protruded from somewhere on his back, arcing slightly over the man.

“heyyy….” he said lazily, shadows falling on his face. you started walking backward, hands discreetly feeling for the door behind you. “wait! i’m a pro-hero, i swear! i’m hawks, look it up!” he lifted his hands up in surrender, backing away from you.

“who…. what do you want?” you asked cautiously, hand on the doorknob behind you.

he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. “i, uh…. got lost…. tokyo’s such a big place, y’know?”

“where are you from?” you couldn’t really discern anything of an accent on him, other than a slightly rougher tone of speaking.

“kyushu, fukuoka…” he gestured vaguely. that explained the slight accent. “i’m in tokyo for a bit of work. business trip, y’know how it goes. haven’t visited tokyo in a while, honestly. what’s a good place for a bite? a bird is starving.”

“uh… there’s a place down the street to the right…” off the top of your head, you pointed out a cafe you and bakugou had frequented.

“it doesn’t have chicken wings, does it?” hawks asked.

“chicken…?” you looked from him to his wings. “no, sorry.”

“don’t sweat it! ‘s fine. hey, i might as well treat you for wasting your time. where’re you heading off to? i could pay for a cab, if you gotta go.”

“ah, thank you....” you said bashfully. “i’m not really in a rush anywhere.”

“really?” he looked excited, innocently so, almost like a puppy. “can i treat you to something?”

“uh… sure,” you replied, strengthening your grip on your backpack. “sure.”

“great! off we go, m’liege!” he pointed toward the cafe and started marching. he was a sight to behold on the street, red wings standing out a mile away. you followed somewhat reluctantly, grabbing your phone to google exactly who the pro-hero “hawks” was. the name sounded vaguely familiar, but you weren’t one who knew their heroes. yeah, it was definitely him; what was your luck, meeting such a famous pro-hero on the street after being dumped by the love of your life?

he hummed a tuneless melody, turning to the cafe. he held the doorknob waiting for you, opening the door for you first. the homey cafe was decently packed for lunchtime, the quiet chatter of people filling the atmosphere. the scene reminded you of so many other times you'd gone here with bakugou; it gave you chills as you stood next to hawks.

"hey," hawks said quietly. "you okay? you seem tense."

you gulped and shook your head. "nah, i'm fine. just thinking about what to eat," you lied.

he nodded, seeming to buy into the lie. stepping toward the menu, he said, "the toasted sandwiches look good."

"uh huh," you agreed absentmindedly. your attention was on the bout of people who'd turned to look at hawks, some snapping pictures on their phones. he did stand out pretty well with his wings.

"'scuse me-!" a little girl, no more than 6 or 7, approached the hero. she had a distinctive accent; it was slightly hard to understand her. "can i 'ave a photo with ya?" her eyes got all round. "yer my big brother's favorite hero!"

"'course, darlin'," hawks smiled. his voice somewhat mimicked hers, his dialect becoming apparent.

once he'd taken a photo with her, more and more people started following suit, crowding him. you stood awkwardly to the side. some people didn't even know who he was, from what you could tell. you debated ordering a latte and leaving, but decided it'd be unfair to hawks. he was kind to everyone he interacted with, unlike most celebrities who just wanted fame and disregarded others.

after some time, the crowd finally dispersed, leaving you and hawks together.

he glanced at his watch. “ah, sorry, that took a while…” he apologized. “do you have somewhere to be? i must’ve held you up…”

“nah, don’t worry about it.” you waved him off. “i, uh, actually… was just dumped by my boyfriend…” you nervously shuffled your feet. “i don’t really have a place to stay at the moment… so i’m free the entire day, i guess.” you laughed nervously.

he blinked at you, bird-like eyes wide. “you must be starving.”

you felt your face warm and you laughed - this time, a real, genuine laugh that was a missed sensation against your tongue. “yeah. yeah, i am.”

“hey, dove.” his voice suddenly got close to you, gentler. “you’re crying.”

“oh…?” you felt your cheek with the pad of your thumb. “sorry. i have tissues in my backpack, hang on…” you unzipped the front pocket and started to rummage blindly through your belongings, groping for something vaguely feeling like a packet of tissues.

“here,” he said, handing you a tissue. you turned to him gratefully, accepting the tissue and wiping your face.

“it’s just… weird,” you said after a pause. “he’s been there all my life - my ex, i mean.” ex. such a strange name for the man you so adored; ex, crossing off the relationship you thought you’d built with him.

hawks nodded, guiding you to a booth in the cafe.

you continued, “sorry. you probably didn’t want to hear this today… you’re busy with your hero duties and whatnot.”

“don’t worry ‘bout it, feather,” he reassured you. “he didn’t kick you out, did he?”

“oh, no,” you clarified quickly. “i… left,” you said, abashed. “i shouldn’t’ve been so sudden, but… it was an instinct thing.”

“why’d he do it so suddenly?” hawks asked. “you didn’t see it coming, right?”

“no, i didn’t… but maybe i should’ve…” you think about the part couple months with bakugou. nothing seemed different - you’d gone on dates like normal and spent time together like a couple that loved each other. his interest in you never faltered and nor did the sparkle in his eyes dull; what had happened? what had gone so wrong?

you realize the silence that’s fallen between you and hawks. the hero was looking at the menu behind you intently.

“ham and cheese…” he muttered to himself. “no, teriyaki… so yummy… with coffee…” he suddenly seemed aware of your eyes staring at him. “oh, what did you want to eat?”

“i’ll probably have the teriyaki,” you said. it was your go-to sandwich choice at the cafe. you reached for your backpack to retrieve your wallet, but hawks stopped you.

“let me,” he said. “i already caused you so much inconvenience.”

“ah, okay…” you said meekly. “thank you.”

he shrugged. “what wouldja like to drink?”

“uh… orange juice,” you said.

“alright!” he saluted you. “your wish is my command.” he got up to order, pulling out his wallet from his pocket. the cashier was particularly animated talking to him, initiating a conversation about aerodynamics with the pro-hero from what you could hear.

he returned with the sandwiches (made at the fastest time you swore you’d seen them prepare food) and set yours in front of you.

“let’s dig in!” hawks said, biting into his sandwich. you agreed, taking a bite of yours as well.

“what’s your name, by the way?” he said in between bites. “i don’t think i ever asked.”

“y/n,” you said.

“pretty,” he commented. “i’m hawks.”

“i know,” you blurted. “i googled it.”

“you did?” his pupils widened. “what’d it say??”

“uhh…” you pulled out your phone, finding the tab you used to google hawks. you turned your screen to him.

he studied the screen. “not fond of that angle,” he mused to himself. “so, why’d your boyfriend dump you?”

you were taken aback by his candor. “he… said he didn’t love me anymore,” you admitted.

“all of a sudden? out of the blue?”

you shook your head. “he said he’d tried to endure it for a while.”

“how long?”

“a month or two,” you sighed, thinking about the sight of him sitting dejectedly on the couch this morning.

“he didn’t say anything before that?” hawks gasped. “the nerve. how long have you been together?”

“four… or five years now?” you’d been dating him since your days at ua, even when most high school romances - between childhood friends, no less - were especially rocky. he was your promised forever.

“and he gives up after two months?” hawks set his sandwich down. “wow. some boyfriend.”

“i think there was something more to it,” you said thoughtfully. “we’ve known each other for a long…”

“you still love him, don’t you?”

“i mean… yeah….” you hadn’t given it much thought; bakugou was a habit your heart couldn’t stop thinking about. it was like depriving your heart of oxygen: foreign and wrong. “i do.”

“i’m sorry, dove,” he said.

“your sandwich will get cold,” you said in an attempt to divert the conversation topic.

“you’re right.” he picked up his sandwich and started eating again, eyes still on you. “this place has good food.”

you hummed in agreement, distracted by the cars going by outside the window.

“where will you stay?” he asked, halfway done with his sandwich.

hawks voiced the concern plaguing your subconscious from the moment you stepped out of bakugou’s apartment building. it was definitely not the most thoroughly well-thought out plan, and you didn’t want to come back knocking on his door in the night. besides, you weren’t sure if you could stand being there again, in the presence of a liar and someone who felt so foreign to you. you wondered how much you truly didn’t know about bakugou; were there any other lies he’d blossomed behind your back?

you knew you might be able to stay at a hotel for a couple nights, but not for long. going back to bakugou’s place… as much as you so dreaded the mere thought, you knew it might be your absolute last resort.

“i’m not sure,” you finally replied truthfully. hawks appeared to have come to a conclusion of sorts.

“tell ya what,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “explore tokyo with me.” he took a bite of his sandwich. continuing, he said, “‘s not often the commission puts me in the big city. i’m off today, so…”

the offer was somewhat bizarre, but what did you have to lose? you agreed, under the terms you wouldn’t be out too late. as you walked out the door, you greeted the cool outside breeze with the hope this would help you put the past behind you.

walking through tokyo with a pro-hero proved harder than it sounded. for one, people kept approaching hawks; after all, he was like a walking light-up sign that said “LOOK AT ME!” with the size and color of his wings. after every time a fan asked hawks for an autograph, he sheepishly apologized to you, and offered two autographs to you. you always laughed and declined; the trip was a reward in itself, you supposed. each acquaintance made you appreciate all the responsibilities of a pro-hero. he was charming, though. he really was, so you didn’t mind.

“skytree! let’s go there!” was the first thing hawks had said walking out of the cafe. you’d been to the skytree a couple of times in your childhood, and it was a nice memory; the tall building stretching, touching the tip of the sky. your parents had told you that stardust flecked the very top of the skytree, for it was so tall. you’d never actually reached the highest floor; it felt like a distant fantasy, as you’d always get tired before reaching the top or circumstance would interfere.

it was a five minute walk to the nearest station, and it’d be another forty or so to skytree. hawks didn’t seem to mind, though, happily promenading down the street like a kid in a candy shop. he pointed excitedly to random buildings that you hadn’t given a second thought about and rambled about the facts he knew about skytree with an accent tingeing his words more than usual. he reminded you very much so of a child going on a field trip, and his giddiness only boosted yours.

“we’re here!” his eyes glistened with anticipation when you reached the station. you’d visited the station dozens of times, but looked at it with a new light when you realized how excited hawks was. “i’ll pay; i dragged you here,” he said immediately when you started to pay for tickets.

“really, i can’t-” you started, but he cut you off.

“let me. it’s my off day! please.” he took the two tickets he paid for. “here.”

“i don’t really have a choice, do i?”

“nope!” he was already walking away, smiling back at you and waving his ticket.

“hey- wait!” you started running after him. “wrong way!”

forty minutes later, two transfers, and one circle around the station in pursuit of skytree, you stood at the entrance of the tokyo skytree. hawks’ mouth watered at the sight of the line of restaurants in the breezeway you’d passed prior, and you had to stop him from ordering the seasonal special from mcdonald’s before turning to skytree.

“but you just ate!” you exclaimed as he stared longingly at the ice cream being advertised on a poster.

he pouted. “but i’m hungry…”

you took his hand (which momentarily shocked him) and guided him to the entrance. it was a bit crowded, but not overtly so. hawks was looking everywhere once you’d entered; darting from here to there, sometimes carrying small souvenirs or drinks when returning to you. you were out of energy by the time you’d reached floor 340, though hawks told you there were only 29 floors total and the name was referencing the height. it certainly didn’t feel like an exaggeration, your feet dragging on the ground as you stepped out of the oddly fast elevator.

you begged hawks to let you rest at the cafe you saw. the cafe felt like a little oasis of tranquility, uncrowded on contrary to the other floors. it was relaxing as you stared outside the window and up at the sky. it brought you to your parents words of stars and magic, though something as modern as the skytree must be strange to intermingle with magic. in the moment you were suspended; the still sky surrounding you and the ever-moving cars below. you swore you could just reach the clouds in front of you and float, so serenely in an eternal bubble of quietude to yourself. everything else was forgotten in that moment; things were the way they always were. it was always you, in the end.

after leaving the cafe, you watched people stand on glass flooring overlooking everything below. some jumped on the glass, while some frightenedly stuck a foot on the glass and jumped back.

“quite the view, huh?” hawks mumbled with a mouth stuffed full with chocolate cake. “i usually have to fly so far to get this view.”

you nodded. “it’s amazing...”

“so… where d’you wanna go after this?” he asked you.

“actually…” your thoughts went back to the stories your parents told you. “can we go up to floor 455?”

he showed a hint of surprise on his face. “really? i know we bought the tickets to do it, but if you’re tired, we can just go down.”

“no…” you cleared your throat. “it’s been something i really wanted to do.”

he took this answer and smiled, grasping your hand. “let’s walk into the sky!”

the train ride back did not go as smoothly as you hoped. the adrenaline of being 450 meters in the air had worn itself out, and the pitting realization that bakugou was no longer yours dawned on you. the sapphire sky in your fairy tale story seemed so far now, stars shattering and crumbling. you reached for a piece of a star, but each piece dissolved above your head, light that would never reach you.

“feather,” hawks said quietly. the intense look in his eyes looked like he was building up to something important.

“yeah?” you asked. you fixated on him.

“do you want… a badtz-maru eraser?”

you stared at the spiky-haired penguin in the palm of hawks’ hand.

“sure…?” you said. hawks happily plopped the eraser into your hand.

“feather,” he said again in the same tone. “you should visit bakugou, you know. tonight, to make things straight with him.”

that was what he was building up to. bakugou. you hadn’t dwelled much on the thought of the man; the skytree filling most of your thoughts for the day. but it was still light out.

“i know,” you replied softly, looking down at your fingers. these were the hands that held your heart as you gave it to bakugou, the hands that bakugou held tenderly for so many days and nights. they were the same hands that held your heart now, returned by bakugou shattered and clinking to the ground. the rest of the train ride was silent.

you could now hear your thoughts echoing around the train compartment, deflecting off walls and still making their way to your heart. you wondered what words were left unsaid by bakugou, painful truths untold hidden in the recesses of his heart. you wondered if he remembered how he’d first nervously asked you on a date in high school, words rough but fingers softly fidgeting with each other. it was in may, near the end of the day. he shoved a small box of chocolates towards you, muttering something about “weird hair” making him do it. he’d aggressively stuttered his way through a confession, barely making eye contact with you. the memory brought a fluttering to your heart, but with it came a sore pain for the first time. you wondered if he felt the same or if he was just numb, like how he now felt about you. what did it feel like to fall out of love?

you wondered if he remembered the many times he’d walked you home (only for your sake, of course, not anything else). you wondered if he remembered how fondly he looked at you then. his heart was on his sleeve during those times, the perpetual blush on his cheeks disclosing his very vulnerable feelings towards you.

even on the most draining of days, bakugou would always be there for you. even if his eyelids were closing upon their own accord and legs were sore from a day’s work, he made it a point to be there for you. while children might’ve had their security blankets, you had bakugou. your heart dropped realizing those days of coming home to bakugou were gone.

what had happened? now, you were alone on a train that felt so cold and without the love that had so warmed your heart. why had things ended up like this? why did you numb bakugou’s feelings so? the wave was slow at first, but once it had reached the shore, your tears fell hot and unyielding as you toppled off the edge of being okay.

hawks was by your side wordlessly, a wing around you and leaning you close to him. the feathers were soft. you cried unabashedly in his embrace, sniffling as he soothed you. you tried to say thank you, but all that came out was another sob.

your feet, on instinct, took you to bakugou's apartment without any problem. it could’ve been any other day; you, coming back to the apartment after running errands. it was your hand that hesitated as it hovered an inch away from the wood of the door, the only sign that something had changed. you liked to pretend it hadn’t. you wished that when you’d open the door, you’d hear a light chatter from the tv and a familiar voice saying, “welcome home, idiot.” you wished that the air that enveloped you as soon as you opened the door was that of liveliness and comfort, of warm orange and yellow hues. you wished that the atmosphere didn’t feel so dead, dull, and musty; you wish it hadn’t drowned in shades of blue and gray. you wished you didn’t have the key to the apartment still.

you wished that bakugou would say something, anything, rather than sit on the couch with his head bowed. you wished that you didn’t miss him so much and that you had him, all at the same time. you wished you turned back as soon as you heard the knob click and pushed open the door; you wished not to see all that you had in what was once your apartment.

you wished you didn’t revel in his presence next to you on the couch. you wished you didn’t almost lean into his touch because he was your home, and you wished your eyes didn’t well up the way they had. you wished to have sat in that silence for a while then up and gone; you wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

“hey, idiot,” was a cracky and raspy thing coming out of his mouth, words familiar but so foreign at the same time.

“hey,” was what you whispered back, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“where’d you go?” but it wasn’t a question, just a fragile plea devoid of hope.

“skytree,” and you felt you’d break the mood.

“did you reach the top?” his response surprised and killed you at the same time.

“yeah,” you said quietly. “i did.”

“alone?”

“i could never alone.”

“who…?”

“met a pro-hero by chance.”

“your true hero, huh?” it was a bitter tone, venom biting you.

“no,” and your heart sunk because it was the truth.

he scoffed. getting up from the couch, he said, “you forgot something.”

your eyes followed him as he disappeared into your once shared room. he returned quite fast, as if you’d left it on the dresser, carrying a decorated shoebox. you’d almost forgotten about it entirely, eyes wide as nostalgia hit you.

it was a memory box you’d made the last year of high school. it was supposed to be for school memories, but it really just became a box of mementos of bakugou. you could barely see the contents inside, too busy trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. you thumbed through photos and polaroids of you and him, some with his friends and some with yours. oh, what you’d give to have those times back. though it was all blurred, you could feel the moments so vividly: feel the cool summer breeze and hear the sound of people conversing with each other at a festival; hear mina’s excited ramblings and bakugou’s grumbling at the supermarket; smell caramel and vanilla at a movie night, pressed against bakugou’s body warmth. you dropped the photos back into the box and picked up a scorched pencil. a pressed rose. a neatly folded sheet of notes you’d sent back and forth with bakugou during class.

and then it was all gone, shutting the box.

“keep it.” you regretted the words as soon as they left your lips, but you wouldn’t take them back. you handed him the box, staring at the floor and wiping your wet eyes. the memories were no longer yours to keep.

bakugou was silent, taking the box and leaving to his room to put it away.

“is that all?” you tried to make your voice sound strong, impatient. like you had better places to be without him. you hoped he couldn’t tell how it was more of a beg to stay.

“yeah.” cold. emotionless.

you stood for another second, looking around. everything seemed different, as if the glass which surrounded your universe had shattered. “bye, katsuki.”

“bye.”

your footsteps were light, but each step felt weighed by metal weights. you wished he stopped you from leaving. you wished you looked back at him. you wished you weren’t crying.

you shut the door quietly, weakly, behind you. it all came out in the hallway, tears and desperate sobs. you prayed he couldn’t hear you; but you knew, even if he did, he wouldn’t care anymore. he was numbed, no longer the firework you’d known.

“hawks,” it came as a quiet plea as you felt for your phone and dialed his number. he gave it to you right before you walked into bakugou’s apartment.

“please pick up, please pick up,” you muttered, trying to wipe the tears from your cheeks as quickly as they came.

“hey, birdie? are you okay?”

“hawks,” you sobbed. “hawks, no, i’m not.”

“hey, are you still at the apartment building? i’ll be right there, chickadee, alright?”

you nodded, sniffed, then said meekly, “yeah.”

“stay on the line. talk to me, birdie.” his voice was soothing.

“hawks, it hurts, everything.” you felt as though you were pouring out your heart, spilling scarlet on the carpet. “hawks.” tears dropped onto the carpet. “hawks.” your knees almost gave in.

“what floor are you on, dove?”

“third,” you hiccupped.

“i’m right there, feather.” you saw hawks emerge from the stairwell. his hair looked windblown. he looked relieved to see you at first, then his face fell to that of sympathy. “oh, birdie,” he said softly, running up to you. “i’m here now.’

you weren’t aware bakugou was listening to you cry on the other side of the door as you sobbed into someone else’s shoulder, not his. with dark eyes and trembling hands he couldn’t calm, he dialed a number on his phone.

“well, tomura? i did it.”

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou angst #bnha angst #hawks fluff #bnha fluff #hawks imagines #hawks scenarios #keigo takami fluff #keigo takami imagines #keigo takami scenarios #katsuki bakugou #keigo takami #luna's writing

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chaoticevilbean · 4 years ago

Text

Four In One : Chapter Three

Training went extremely well for the teens, though Shiro seemed to be slowly losing the will to live and Allura was confused at some of the more... interesting conversations that occurred. Coran wasn't there, busy keeping the ship running smoothly. Only one incident occurred, and that was when Keith underestimated how big Lance's steps were in the invisible maze and he walked right into a wall. After that, Keith was far more careful with his directions and began instructing Lance to slide his foot forward until told to stop, then move to stand in that spot.

Allura called for a break somewhere after Lance won his fourteenth game of lasertag, which was being used as "long-range training". Pidge told Shiro that it was really just a game of "see how long it takes for Lance to find you" after his third win in twelve doboshes. Apparently, flying made you an easy target, but so was having wings out at all, and hiding in one place made it easier for Lance to aim, but moving around made you stand out. The last game, Shiro was out in twenty-six ticks for taking to the skies and trying to shoot everyone down as fast as possible (Lance technically got the shot, but Shiro was out of it for a few doboshes because of the four lasers that hit his chest). Pidge snuck up on Hunk and hit him, but Lance had been scoping his best friend out as well and seen her, and took his opportunity to strike after she shot. Keith almost won, but Lance was actually just luring him in. The emo was supposedly too loud.

"Time for lunch, pala-"

"Lance, drop the gun! I will tase you!" Pidge interrupted Allura in order to rush out of the training room, with Hunk and Keith in tow. Space Dad™ was once again sacrificed for the greater good, otherwise known as the teens' benefit. Allura ignored Shiro's pleas for help and Lance, who was bearing down on his prey with a slightly manic grin in place, instead making a beeline for the kitchen.

Lance strolled in ten doboshes late, whistling a tune as he made himself a plate of pink and orange food goo that looked like bunch of Twixx yogurt. Shiro limped in after him a few ticks later, a haunted look in his eyes. The other humans ignored him, continuing to discuss where the f-bombs would go if they were used in the Lord of the Rings series, Extended Edition. Coran seemed intrigued as to what the story was about, especially since Alteans apparently are just like Elves. Allura was looking between Lance, who had joined in the conversation as soon as he sat down; Shiro, who was eating seemingly out of habit alone; and the rest of them, who were acting as if this was all normal.

Just to be clear, it wasn't.

Lunch came and went rather quickly, though Shiro took his time to finish, knowing that as soon as the group went to the training room, they would finish long-range practice. AKA Lance's dominion. AKA the time to say your prayers, write your will and die. But Coran's stern gaze kept him from taking too long, so the team was back in the hallways in under a varga.

"Alright," Shiro called out as soon as the final game ended. Pidge looked at him from where she had collapsed dramatically on the floor, relieved that they were done. Hunk and Keith both audibly sighed from their own 'death' spots, Lance's gun still trained on Hunk's chest. "Since we seem to be getting better, it's time for close-range fighting. Grab your weapons and we'll get the ring set up. Don't forget your new armor."

The teens rushed to grab their new weapons, those that had them. Coran had adjusted their armor's settings so they could switch to outfits that better fit close-range combat. With glee, each kid pressed the buttons to change.

Keith's armor became light, scale-like plates, layered on his shoulders and chest and back. His legs had similar plating but with smaller pieces. Armguards spread from just below his wrists to just before his elbows, scale-looking as well, but elongated and with more pointed ends near his elbows. His wrist guards connected to fingerless gloves and the armguards with more flexible material, something a bit like leather. The boots were sturdy, with thick soles and protected toes. All of the materials were colored to accentuate Keith's red-hued wings and were smooth despite the plating.

Hunk's armor was much thicker, meant for protection and strength. The chestplate was thick, covering his back, front, shoulders, and a little more on the edges. His legs were fully covered in only slightly lighter pieces, and his arms matched. The boots were thick and stocky, with grooves and near minuscule spikes to allow for better grounding. The armor looked like stone, brown except for a few gold and light brown highlights. Small spikes protruded from the shoulders, elbows and knees, an extra and probably unneeded defense.

Pidge's was far lighter than the others. Varying shades of green, made for quiet movement and small spaces, the material provided padding on the joints and chest. The gloves fit perfectly to her hands, thin enough for full movement but thick enough to give her some protection from sharp objects and heat. Her boots were padded on the sole, but as light as the rest of her armor. All of the greens were arranged in such a way it looked like the shadows of some foliage.

Shiro's armor was befitting his leadership status, black and white and gold. It looked like a modern version of what ancient knights wore on Earth, complete with a gold-embroidered black cape. The armor fit Shiro perfectly conforming to him easily despite the metallic material. A few spikes were strategically placed along his left arm, and his metal one was without any armor at all, though Pidge quickly began babbling about making an upgrade on the tech so it would match the color scheme at least.

Lance's armor was the one that gave them all pause, Pidge even stopping in her talk to stare at the change.

A cape of cerulean hung from his shoulders, attached to two straps that crossed in an X over his chest. Bands of a flexible blue metal wrapped around his biceps and forearms. Small rings of the same metal clung to his knuckles, slim-fitting. A thin material of an almost clear creamy color connected the bands and rings, patterned with small scales by light blue lines. Dark blue trousers cut off at halfway up his calves, the waistline melding seamlessly into the straps on his chest with a belt of chains sewn in to avoid jangling. No shoes formed on his feet; instead, there were bands on his ankles and toes, with the connecting fabric the same as on his arms.

"Where's your armor, Lance," Hunk asked, moving around his friend in a circle as if there would be more to the outfit when he did. Lance was just as shocked as the others, though one look at Coran's knowing smile and he could guess the reason behind his sparse clothing. Two down, five to go. Coran knows all.

"Um, Coran, are you sure this is a good idea?" Shiro looked at the Altean in concern. All of the outfits were both stylish and functional, but to those who didn't know what Lance's wings looked like, the Blue Paladin's armor was severely lacking in the functional department.

"Of course, Number One," Coran chirped, turning on his heel to swiftly walk over to the control room. "I'll start on simple simulation as a warm-up, and we'll go from there!" The words left no room for argument, and they all rushed to put on their helmets. Matching their armor patterns, Keith's was shaped to seem like a dragon's head, covering all of his head except his face. A thin transparent screen that was shaped like a small flame extended over his right eye, meant for transmissions. Hunk's helmet was similiar, though a bit thicker on the top and looked like a mass of stone and rubble mashed together. The screen was for him was shaped like a clip-art mountain. Pidge's helmet was a wreath of cording, wrapping around her forehead and clipping to her ears. The vine-like green pulled her hair out of her face, and a leaf displayed information. The back of her head had a bit more covering, 'leaves' adding protective surface area. Shiro's was as traditional as the rest of his armor, the helmet's visor was modernized with high-tech eye pieces that shined gold. Lance's helmet was more like a crown, a band of the blue metal on his arms encircling his forehead under his hairline. The scale-patterned fabric hung down in strips on either side of his eyes and all around his head, connecting with another band that Lance clipped on around his throat. A teardrop-shaped screen hung down from the top band, directly in front of his eye and looking almost like a jewel.

The simulation started quickly, a few gladiators rising from the floor. Most of them had swords, though a few had simple guns to test how well they could take down a long-range opponent via close-range attack. Shiro, Keith and Pidge had their regular weapons, while Hunk and Lance's bayards shifted the moment they switched to their armor to close-range. Hunk had a large club, meant to cater to his strength. Lance had a rapier, the blade perfectly weighted to his hands and light-weight to provide speed.

The team lunged forward instantly, taking down the gladiators with ease. The next level started once they finished, not giving them a breather. Shields were activated and deactivated as they attacked and protected each other. Lance noticed that the group was gravitating towards him as the levels passed, due to his armor, or lack thereof. As much as the sentiment was nice, he knew that they needed to stop and spread themselves out equally. He needed a plan to show them he would be okay, and when a large group of opponents rose a little ways away from the others, but close enough to him, he struck. With a large warcry, Lance charged forward, drawing the attention of everyone on the field. Ignoring the worried calls of his Space Flock, the teen cut through the gladiators, dodging their retaliating blows with his flexibility.

"Are you guys gonna fight like we did before or are you gonna keep worrying about my lack of safety? Cuz I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I hold the record for most injuries regardless of attire!" Lance teased the others as he finished off the last two in the group, receiving only a small cut on his upper arm. He wouldn't even need a bandage. Hunk caught on first, slipping back into their normal routine easily. Pidge, Shiro and Keith promptly followed, Lance rejoining the team's formation.

Falling into the rhythm of battle was simple and effortless, and Lance found himself moving solely out of muscle memory as the robots used the Galra tactics they were programmed with.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lance was nervous to finally join the Garrison. He was able to find his dorm room easily and had unpacked in a matter of minutes. Now, he simply waited for his roommate to arrive. Malosi Garrett was the other name on the little plaque, and Lance had been bored enough to translate the name. Apparently, Malosi was 'strong' in Samoan, but that told him little about the boy he was going to share a living space with. Was he called strong because he was bold, or because he was physically strong, or something else entirely?

The questions ground to a halt as the door suddenly opened, a large bag the first thing Lance saw. Right after it was a boy with a yellow headband and dark skin, broad-shouldered and tall.

"Oh, hi!" The boy hastily dropped his bags onto his bed, turning to face his roommate just as fast. "I'm Malosi Garrett! It's nice to meet you! Well, I mean we technically haven't met yet because I don't know your name, but I think this counts as meeting. Sorry if I'm rambling, you probably think I'm a dork. I'll just get to work on unpacking." Words tumbled from Malosi's mouth faster than water through a strainer. Lance was struck by how low this dude's self-confidence was and how much he reminded Lance of his brother Marco. He chuckled softly to himself, before standing and walking leisurely over to Malosi.

"Anything I can do to help, mi hermano?" Malosi looked over at him, and a beam was quick to overtake his features.

"Sure thing," he said, and that was that. The two of them finished unpacking after longer than Lance had taken, but less time than it would've taken Malosi alone. He had brought a lot of recipes and scraps of projects and medication for his anxiety. It was almost noon when they were done, and both of them decided to wait a bit before using the communal kitchen that they shared with three other rooms to make lunch.

"Thanks for helping me," Malosi told his new friend, pulling his phone out and staring at the screen, though his eyes frequently glanced back at Lance.

"No problem, mi hermano," Lance assured, using his new title for the other teen.

"But it wasn't 'no problem'," Malosi challenged. "It took a lot of time, and you didn't have to do it."

"Where's all this coming from, mi hermano?" Lance inquired. "You're definitely worth any effort, a hunk like yourself."

"I'm no hunk."

"Yes, you are. You're name is literally Strong. You have to be a hunk. It's like, the law or something." Malosi looked up from his phone in surprise.

"You translated my name?"

"I was bored, and I wanted to know what Malosi meant. But now I think I'll call you Hunk, so you know how guapo you are."

"You don't need to do that, loʻu uso," Malosi blushed.

"Too bad, Hunk. You, mi hermano, are no longer allowed to think so lowly of yourself. Confidence is key," Lance chirped to the newly dubbed Hunk. After a moment, Lance added, "What does loʻu uso mean?"

"It means mi hermano," Hunk grinned.

The two were inseparable after that, and Hunk asked Lance to groom his wings after only a week together, around the same time Iverson pulled him aside. Lance assured Hunk that his hidden wings was not distrust, but a different, private reason, and quickly suggested his roommate "groom" his hair. Hunk never pushed the subject, taking his friend's word.

Neither of the duo ever judged each other, not even when Hunk said he was going to grow his hair out so he could try braiding it, or when Lance asked his brother in all but blood to help him put on makeup. Their bond never strained or stretched, not over school breaks or when one met someone new and hung out a bit less. Pidge's presence only added to their bond as they both tried to add the other boy to their mini-flock, not that either would admit to doing so.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The last gladiator fell and a small bell sound rang through the arena, drawing Lance from his thoughts. Hunk was the one to swing the final blow, and Lance whooped at his best friend's success.

"¡Bien hecho, Malosi, mi hermano!" Lance crowed, dropping his rapier and jumping on Hunk's back with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which is to say a lot. Well done, Malosi, my brother! Hunk's arms immediately came up to hold Lance's legs, now giving him a piggyback ride.

"Faʻafetai lava, loʻu uso e! Sa fai sina malie!" Hunk chuckled. Thank you, my brother! It was a little fun!

"Lo fue, ¿no? ¡Y eras muy guapo cuando aplastaste a ese robot!" It was, wasn't it? And you were very handsome when you smashed that robot!

"Anyone want to translate whatever that was?" Pidge butted in, her hand raised like she was a student in a classroom. Hunk smirked at the smaller paladin.

"Lance and I are bilingual and I taught him Samoan and he taught me Spanish, so we sometimes talk to each other in our native language. Usually we're alone, but I guess Lance got excited. Ain't that right, aulelei?"

"Yeah, lo siento, guapo." Lance rubbed his neck sheepishly, before turning to see the even more confuzzled looks of his companions. He sighed before translating. Yeah, I'm sorry, handsome.

"I congratulated Hunk, he said thank you, we said the training was kinda fun, and I told him he looked handsome. Aulelei means beautiful and guapo means handsome. We like calling each other that."

"What about Malosi?" Shiro asked. "That didn't sound like it was Spanish."

"It's not," Hunk confirmed. "My name is Malosi, whi-"

"Hold up, I thought your name was Hunk?" Keith all but cried.

"Yeah, and you thought my name was Taylor because that was my nickname in class," Lance quipped. The silence following caused him to turn once more to look at the Red Paladin, only to see him as red as his title.

"You thought his name was Taylor, didn't you?" Hunk deadpanned. Keith nodded as he stared at the ground. Shiro was attempting to hide his amusement, but Pidge didn't, instead full on cackling.

"But I guess since Lance has pretty much always called me Hunk, it makes sense that most people would think that's my real name," the Samoan continued, as though Lance wasn't currently dying of laughter on his shoulders. "Malosi is my actual name. It means 'strong' in Samoan."

"So you two call each other beautiful, handsome, strong and hunk?" Shiro clarified, brow furrowed. The duo affirmed this, before Hunk jumped back at the two Alteans that were suddenly right beside them.

"What is this Spanish?" Allura asked excitedly. "I thought humans were the only native sentient species on Earth?"

"We are," Lance spoke slowly, "but we have multiple languages because of we have multiple different cultures and countries. I'm from Cuba, so I speak Spanish as my first language, and Hunk is Samoan. The language that we all collectively use is called English, and it's the only one in the universal translator you aliens use. Hunk learned Spanish and a bit of Swedish because he likes IKEA stuff, and I also know Samoan, Italian, Korean, Japanese, Chinese, German, and I'm trying to learn Russian, Altean, and Galran. And maybe Balmeran, if I can get a communication to Shay."

"He's one of those super linguists that learn every language they can and therefore understand most people," Hunk interjected.

"I know Italian, too," Pidge huffed out, still catching her breath from the laughing she did.

"I'm Japanese."

"I know some Korean," Keith inputted, obviously trying to draw away from his younger self's mistake.

"Amazing," Allura breathed. "I didn't know humans were so diverse! And why is it you learned so many languages, Lance?"

"I learned Samoan for Hunk; Italian for Pidge; Korean for Keith; Japanese for Shiro; Chinese for the little Chinese place that's near my house in Cuba with the sweet family running it; German for my friend Sophia; Russian for Dominic, my sister's husband; Altean for Allura and Coran and so I can read some stuff in the library; Galran for Keith and missions; and Balmeran for Shay because we're trying to keep in touch." Lance ticked off the languages, seemingly unaware of the turmoil in all but the Yellow Paladin. The Cuban boy had always learned whatever he could to make his friends feel better, and Hunk had seen it firsthand when Lance had semi-successfully made a traditional dish he had heard his roommate mention when he was homesick. It wasn't the best, but it was enjoyable all the same.

The others had no experience with the Lance that learned his friend's language and made their favorite dishes as best he could and once helped Hunk figure out what his first tattoo was gonna be.

"Lance, I don't even know Galran," Keith mused, still wrapping his head around the fact that he was twice on the list and he was more Texan than Korean or Galran.

"But you're still part Galra, so I want to be prepared for when you learn it or when you need to translate something you find about your heritage."

"I'm done!" Pidge declared, walking away. "I'll be working on some coding before dinner! Come get me when Lance stops being so quiznacking good! First he finds a way to let us groom him, then he shows himself as a self-sacrificial idiot, and now he's somehow learned every language! When will it end?" Pidge kept loudly muttering to herself as she left the room. A few ticks after her absence, the team busted out laughing, Shiro and Keith leaving to shower and Hunk to start on dinner. Lance waited, gesturing for the Alteans to do so as well.

"What did you need, my boy?" Coran queried once the others were definitely out of earshot. Lance hastily closed and locked the training room doors, turning to face the advisor and princess nervously. With a deep breath, Lance pushed his wings out, spreading them just a bit. With the size of his wings, it was still easy to see all four of his wings when he stretched.

"Oh, Lance, those are beautiful," Allura gushed, calmly striding over to his side.

"They are indeed, my boy," Coran marvelled. "I don't fully understand why you would hide them."

"Well, they're impossible," Lance explained, beaming at the praise. "On Earth, some mutations are strange and not as accepted as others. Shiro's scales would be one, though it's rather small so people wouldn't make such a big deal. Pidge's and Hunk's would be considered beautiful more often than not. Keith's would definitely get people in an uproar. Wings like mine would make me an outcast in a tick. My town was accepting of me, and my family never once treated me badly, but I've heard enough stories of people with big mutations getting attacked to risk it."

"So, I take it you're planning on telling the others?"

"Yeah, and I was hoping you could help." The Alteans looked at each other, smiled, and turned back.

"How can we help?"

#voltron #wing au #lance #hunk #pidge #shiro #keith #allura #coran coran the gorgeous man #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #lance mcclain #hunk garrett #pidge gunderson #lance-centric #purple #klance

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randomguywithwords · 5 years ago

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5 Pearls (Mr Compress Short Story)

Warning: The story gets pretty dark.

-----

“This is Avalanche, check.”

“This is Slingshot, check.”

“This is Gamma, check.”

“This is Silo, check.”

“This is Galahad, check,” You said. You adjusted your shoulder guards, glancing at your squadron. They all wore expressions of calmness.

You appeared shocked.

Were they concealing their fears? They were doing a better job than you were, definitely. Your eyes darted around the door they were about to barge through, your hands held a slight tremble to them, like the tremors that preceded an earthquake.

It was the man behind that door that would set off that quake. The masked performer, linked to the abrupt disappearances of 40 people.

Five more would be added tonight.

You were wondering why you were even here for this, then you remembered it was your job, part of a Villain Apprehension Squad. A fresh face, you must have been, trained well but inexperienced. Your first mission: capturing a serial killer, but you didn’t know that yet.

A bang sounded out, ringing against the steel machines that populated the abandoned factory. The door burst open by you lot.

That is one way to make an entrance, but…

I’ve seen better ones. I’ve made better ones. It was quite discourteous to break a door of the host’s house. You are guests, you did know that right? My invitation had been quite clear.

Where was I? Your churlish entry had distracted me.

Your team walked through the main path, scanning for movement in the dark with flashlights. I must admit, you did check incredibly thoroughly. A flashlight from Slingshot did shine over my position, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary, just dusty metal support beams. The beam of light moved on.

He hadn’t noticed a tiny blue pearl sitting there, stationary for the past half an hour.

I kept watching. The five of you combed through the main section but found nothing. There was still the matter of the rest of the factory, which had winding branches and levels cut off by heavy machinery. I watched, and I wondered, “What would you do?”

Gestures. Avalanche made the call to split up. Avalanche and Silo in one, the rest in the other. Perfect. Let the first act commence.

The performer kept waiting, like a panther stalking its prey. Actually, a comparison to a spider was more apt, patient for the two to wander directly under him.

Flashlights shone up at him again, reminding him of spotlights and who he once was. A showman, unrivaled and unattainably marvelous. The flashlights moved on.

The showman took a breath, transformed, and let himself fall, both hands outstretched. He laid a hand each on both of their shoulders, and then transformed himself again, just before he would have slammed onto the ground.

Across the factory, the sound of three successive plinks were barely heard by the rest of you.

I waited a few seconds before transforming back into myself, pocketing my first two victims, then I crept around. Your attempts at stealth, if you can call those attempts, were...peculiar, if I were to embellish. Anyway, tracking you three was laughably simple.

Your footsteps grew louder as I rounded a corner. The second act commenced.

The three stooges ambled through the corridor, still unaware of him, or the fact that two of their troupe was no longer performing. As Gamma, the last in line, walked past, he was oblivious to the performer’s gaze on him from the ground, where a cerulean pearl sat amidst the dust and dirt.

The performer transformed back and approached the group, closing the distance with a single step. One tap, and Gamma was a sphere the size of a cherry.

With him, his flashlight disappeared, cutting off the spotlight, which Slingshot was alerted to. He spun on his heel – and he too was compressed.

The last one had turned as well. Galahad, the main character. His eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected, silent attack. Alone, he unleashed his quirk without a second thought, rage coursing through his veins.

I barely had time to catch the two pearls before a ring of fire blazed around me, the heat unimaginable. I leaped upwards, using my cane to catch onto a ledge. Swinging, I landed on a pile of wooden crates.

“All teams!” I heard you say as you chased me. “Enter now! Target’s escaping!”

I saw a black line etching itself onto the crates. I will admit, I was surprised. I jumped away just as another incendiary attack burnt the position where I had just been.

“Villain! You are under arrest! Halt!” You commanded, and I let out a drone at the overused dialogue.

I stopped on a metallic structure and bowed towards you. After all, respect is due to an attentive audience. “Till we meet again for the finale.” And I made a last leap.

As the fire blazed behind me, I crashed through a window and into the night.

-----

Hojirou knew he shouldn’t have finished the letter. It didn’t diffuse his fury or self-loathing, only adding fuel to the fire. But he had to know.

He had called the agency the minute he realised who the sender was, and now all he could do was wait for them to arrive. Perhaps pick up DNA traces to identify the villain.

So this man’s quirk...turning people into small pearls. It made a lot of sense, and it would explain the baffling crime scenes of his previous victims. Investigators knew he had some quirk that could somehow remove footsteps of others, or otherwise make them invisible. But a compressing-type quirk that could even be used on himself made him extremely –

The crash of things tumbling onto the floor drew his attention instantly. He stood up.

“Honey?” He asked. No answer.

His heart pounded in his chest as he rushed upstairs, three steps at a time.

The door burst open as he entered, ready for…

Emptiness. The room was empty. His wife was gone. The window...the window was open. Ashima never left the window open. She hated the bugs that flew in.

A ring of fire circling his hand lit up the dark room. He looked around, unsure of what to find, but a horrid feeling gripping his gut told him to look for a blue pearl.

“Ding!” It was the doorbell.

Hojirou gulped as he exited the room. Please, please, oh god, no…

He looked through the peephole, praying it was the police. The wail of sirens confirmed it, as did the officer standing at the door.

He opened it and immediately burst into speech “Officer, they – he, I think he kidnapped my wife. J-just now.” He was breathless.

“Calm down, Galahad. I promise we’ll find her, but first…” The officer handed him a package wrapped in brown paper. “This was at your doorstep.”

What?

“I – I didn’t see it when I got home,” He said. “I didn’t order anything…” The cold feeling in his stomach grew frostier.

“We’re taking you to the station. It might not be safe here.”

“Wait. I think…” Hojirou prayed to all the gods he knew that he was wrong. He tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a box no larger than his hand. With a trembling arm, he opened the top.

His stomach lurched.

The main character counted 4 hero tags, not unlike the one he wore around his neck.

Blueish dust and shattered fragments coated the interior of the box. He knew where it came from.

And...a wedding ring, identical to the one he was wearing on his finger.

-----

A/N: Shit, I feel really sick in the stomach after writing this. This is basically se7en, and it didn't even occur to me until I wrote about the package.

I...need to go read some fluff to calm down. I genuinely don’t like reading this piece of work. Don’t think I’ll edit it.

#bnha #mha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #mr compress #bnha mr compress #mha mr compress #atsuhiro sako #bnha villain #mha villain #short story #bnha oneshot

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prettylittlelyres · 6 years ago

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She Has No Name (excerpt)

This ties into my 150 followers celebration (170 now, as I’m writing this!), so I hope you enjoy this sample from my newest WIP, She Has No Name, a dark academia romance set at a University for the Deaf on England’s south coast. Lots of rain, lots of love, and... ooh... lots of followers, now, so thank you!

Beta readers wanted

Please let me know if you’re interested in beta-reading this either once its first draft is finished, or chapter-by-chapter as I write it. I’m Hard of Hearing and Sapphic but I know my experiences aren’t universal, so I’m still going to be looking for beta-/sensitivity-readers. Or just let me know if it’s the sort of story you’d like to read. You can just read it, too, if you want! <3 Also, please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for progress updates on this book, and I’ll add you :)

Chapter One Celeste

I run my thumb under the seal of the brown Manila envelope and tear through the waxy paper with my nail, pinching the page inside—smooth and white and decisive—as I pull it out.

It’s mine, all right; my name stares back at me, printed in black, stark against the paper. Celeste Amelia Newman.

The blue-painted walls of my Sixth Form’s hall sway around me, mezzanine railings and balustrades swimming above me, and I look down at my feet. They’re a hundred miles away, imprisoned in tiny cerulean high-tops that I think might be glued to the floor. A swathe of my red-blonde hair falls over my face and gets tangled in my glasses. I brush it away angrily, and read.

Here comes the explanation, the answer to all the questions raised by this morning’s cold email, by this morning’s disappointing UCAS page.

“Your chosen universities and colleges have notified us that you’ve been unsuccessful…”

No Cambridge. Not even Royal Holloway.

I blinked. I read the words on my laptop’s screen again, and they didn’t change. Feeling my parents’ eyes on me as I pushed back my chair, I switched off my implants and stood up from the breakfast table.

I shut my laptop, carrying it up the stairs to my room with drooping shoulders, and a slump in my neck. Closing my bedroom door behind me, I put my laptop aside, and then sat down heavily on my bed, putting my head in my hands.

So that was it, then. I’d disappointed everyone, gone into my exams not wanting Cambridge, not wanting Royal Holloway, and… honestly? Not even wanting to try.

I’d pretended, of course, that every exam had been fine, that I’d answered every question with the eloquence expected of someone who’d attained the grades I’d attained in my coursework, of someone who had actually impressed an interviewer at Caius College, Cambridge. But it had been a lie at every step, and in fact I’d made the decision to give up on the train home… but I hadn’t realised I’d made it until I’d walked into that first exam.

I’d had an interpreter since I’d started school, with a knowledge of BSL even tinier than I’d been. My parents had tried—of course they’d tried—but where were they supposed to learn BSL, twelve miles from the nearest post box? I’d had an interpreter since I’d started school, and she’d taught me English alongside a variant of sign language based on English grammar, but my friends had never learned to sign, and the other kids in my year had never learned to stop staring.

And nor had my interviewer at Caius.

“You know, it’s really inspiring to meet a hearing impaired person who’s doing as well with her studies as you are,” said the Head of English Literature. “I wish my son could meet you.” He didn’t seem to notice me leaning back uncomfortably in my chair as he spoke. “If he could see how good your grades are, how hard you work in spite of everything you’ve been through, I’m sure he’d realise how much more effort he should be putting into his work.” He watched my interpreter, Sarah, as he spoke. I just wished he would look at me, and see he was making my skin crawl, but he didn’t. He just carried on. “Truly incredible, Miss Newman. That’s what you are. Truly incredible.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a shaky sound, and I thought of a dried-out felt pen scratching a weak line across a piece of paper. I lifted my hands to sign, and managed to get out a trembling, “Thank you, Sir.” Biting hard into my tongue, I tried not to grimace, but I doubted I was as successful with that as I was with my grades.

Sarah touched my arm a few minutes later as I left the interview. “Are you OK?” she signed.

I shrugged. “It is how it is.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I’m sorry. Do you want me to say something next time? I know I shouldn’t step in, but—”

“No, I’ll do it,” I said, not realising there wasn’t going to be a next time.

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houkuaichuii · 7 years ago

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Fairy Tales

Okay, this took me a long time to write because I was still recovering from the heavy angst I wrote three weeks ago--- bUT ANYWAY!!

As the fifth theme to my 100 themes challenge, I dedicate this one to @capthawkeye for dealing with my shenanigans whenever I think of our beloved OTP and I’m just really grateful for her presence in this community. Bless!!!! She was also the person with whom I shared this theme’s idea with, after being inspired by Ed Sheeran’s Perfect, so!!!!!!

Also, another friendly reminder that I will be eternally grateful for Adi ( @rvkiakuchiki ), considering how she’s had the role of being my beta for the past year and a half!!!! God knows the amount of mistakes in all of my fics if I didn’t have her, tbh.

I hope you guys enjoy!

Can also be found on ff.net and AO3!

There was always something so exhilarating when it came to sneaking away from a crowd, laughing hand-in-hand with the person who always managed to make your heart skip a beat. And although it was a strange concept to apply to two full-grown adults, it was certainly nothing that they were shy of. With smiles that reached their eyes, their chests swelling with merriment, and hearts all but hidden from one another, a witness could have said that they were very well drunk on pure bliss.

The night was young and the pure essence of joy filled the air amongst the crowd. Drinks were served, the hired band played loudly, and words of congratulations and teasing remarks were endlessly thrown at the newly-wedded couple. It was, for a better part, an event to be forever remembered and reminisced. After all, when the notion of the marriage was announced months before, nobody who knew them was surprised.

Who would have been if they were to consider the past between the couple; the endless support that the woman had provided for the man throughout his journey?

It was a love story often expected from fairy tales, and yet everyone witnessed it grow for as long as they had known the former alchemist.

As laughter reached his ears, Edward Elric watched the guests with content from where he sat at the front. His golden eyes shifted from table to table, taking in the sight of those he called family with a small smile on his face. In that moment then, he had fallen into deep reverie, his thoughts quiet in his head. But at the sudden feel of warmth in his left hand, he was pulled out and his attention was immediately placed onto the wide, cerulean blues that had watched him so curiously.

“You okay there, Ed?” His wife asked, “Kind of zoned out for a bit.”

He replied with a grin, locking his fingers with hers as he admired the wedding band around a certain digit, “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Of?”

“Nothing in particular,” He answered truthfully, “Just thinking about how everything feels like a dream right now.” As his voice remained light-hearted alongside the smile that had seldom left, Winry came to an understanding and left it at that, all the while reflecting his expression.

It had been how they were since they stood before the officiant that late afternoon; just the two of them mirroring smiles and grins and the love in their eyes. The emotions were so raw that they were difficult to hide, but as it was their day (and every single day after that), Edward and Winry had no reason to do so.

They allowed all to see without a thought, and in return, they received cheers and comments about ‘lovebirds’ and ‘inspiring youth’.

Edward certainly showed quite a tint of red in the beginning; at least until it had hit him that Winry was his wife. The realisation was not exactly overwhelming, but it was still a realisation that caused him to feel a form of giddiness he had never felt before. It reached to the extent of him hugging her from behind whenever he could, and lifting her off the ground just to hear her squeals and the laughter that followed after.

It was strange to think of how he once denied his feelings when they were brought out to light, especially now that he was more than happy to show them off. Though he was young at the time, and his focus was really elsewhere. Besides, a certain question from the then-lieutenant came out unexpectedly and he hadn’t even given his friendship with his best friend much of a thought.

But now, at the age of eighteen, Edward Elric was quite the married man who could not have asked for anything better than the woman whose hand he held.

At the thought of the former lieutenant, however. . .

“Hey, Winry,” He started, turning his head back to the life of the party, “Have you seen the Captain?”

“You mean Miss Riza?” With the question, Winry followed his searching gaze.

“Yeah.”

“I saw her couple of minutes ago with the General, but I don’t see them now.” The new bride settled herself back into the backrest of her seat, confusion evident in the way she looked at her husband.

“With Mustang, huh?”

“I swear, sir, if you’re planning on doing something stupid---”

“Okay, first of all, it’s Roy tonight, Riza. We already talked about this; we’re off-duty, attending the wedding of a former comrade. There are no uniforms, no ranks,” Making his way up the hill as he tugged on the other’s hand, Roy flashed a charming grin, “Just us two: Roy and Riza. Like the old times!”

All the comment earned him was a roll of her eyes.

“And second of all, I promise it isn’t anything ‘stupid’,” Roy continued, “Have a little faith in me, Hawkeye.”

Soon enough, they were atop of the mound with a rather breathtaking view before them.

There were the lights at the far bottom of the hill, a crowd of people beneath. The two were not far off from the reception, just isolated enough to not catch anyone’s attention unless they were to look towards their direction. And with the full moon that had glowed brightly behind the translucent clouds of the night, nearly as bright as Winry’s face did during the ceremony, it was far from difficult for them to see each other.

They remained in the silence for the moment’s while, basking in the form of solitude found. But as time came to pass with the spring breeze blowing lightly, Riza stepped closer to the man and leaned into him.

In turn, he merely relaxed an arm around her shoulders and gladly shared his warmth.

They watched as tiny figures danced and conversed, and even chuckled at the sight of (who they presumed was) Havoc tripping on his way to the dance floor. Everything was peaceful, something they both wished to prolong. After all that had happened two years prior, the serenity was welcomed wholeheartedly; not a single doubt within their minds.

“It really takes you back, doesn’t it?” In a whisper, Roy spoke through the silence as he kept his attention to the landscape. He felt her nod against his shoulder, and it was enough to have him smiling as he walked through memory lane. “Reminds me of the time when we would sneak out to the hills behind your house.”

Riza chuckled, “You always were a bad influence.” She told him, freely at that, too.

With a dramatic gasp, Roy shifted his gaze onto her and raised his eyebrows in added effect, “Me? You were the one always dragging me out.”

“And who was the one who suggested the idea in the first place?” Riza looked up at him, amusement clearly written all over her features.

Then in comprehension that the rebellious act may have started with him, Roy took a pause as he suddenly felt quite sheepish.

“Exactly.” Was the response he heard due to his lack of a reply.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you had fun.” He muttered straight after.

Although in remembrance of the innocence that they both lived during what felt like a lifetime ago, Roy noted the music that reached them from below. He breathed in deeply, a thumb caressing the exposed skin of her shoulder as he recalled the nights far off from the past.

What they had done on those hills varied; from observing stars to simply talking, enjoying the company of one another. They were young and naïve, not a single line crossed in character of shyness and reticence. As much as others faithfully believed that the man was quite the charmer back then, Riza had known better.

In fact, their first kiss was something uneventful: just his chapped lips against hers under the lamppost.

He almost laughed at the sudden memory, mentally slapping himself for being so clumsy in the way he had handled it. But even so, the girl never brought it up afterwards, saving him from the embarrassment that he stupidly caused as a seventeen-year-old.

Pushing that thought aside, Roy moved back and away from Riza, who had simply graced him with a lost impression. Tendrils of blonde fell from her fascinating up-do, swept back by the zephyr that came by. His own slicked-back hair was ruffled in the process, once again revealing the unruliness of it all. But nevertheless, he gave her a boyish smile, a glint in his gaze as he held out his hand in an invitation for a dance.

“Really?” Riza asked.

“Really.” Roy answered.

All he received at first was a stare, consideration obviously running through her mind. He saw the hesitancy, the question as to whether it would have been right and proper of them. But Roy was Roy, and although he would have receded if it were any other occasion, he kept his stance and waited patiently.

Then after the release of a sigh, Riza slipped out of the heels she wore and allowed herself to relish the feel of the earth beneath her feet.

The man could barely hide the grin that broke out, caused by the excitement sent through his nerves. And just as the other took his hand into hers, he promptly pulled her close and revelled in the sound of her laughter as she nearly clashed into his chest, only to be steadied by his hold on the curves of her figure. He saw the wide smile that she was intent on keeping hidden from him; the kind that reached the corners of her eyes and showed her pearly whites, all the while deepening her smile lines. It was the kind that had left him in awe countless of times, his train of thought coming to an abrupt stop as all he could think of was how gorgeous she truly was.

How exquisite she effortlessly made herself to be.

Following the slow rhythm that played in the distance, Roy began to sway them from side to side. His hands were circled around her waist, and her arms had chosen to rest over his shoulders. There was a state of ease in the way she danced with him, her gaze never once leaving his. They lingered within the placidity; not a word spoken as they simply drowned themselves in the sound of music, and in the presence of each other. The quintessence of adoration enveloped them into unity.

With her between his arms, barefoot on the grass, perfection could not have made itself known any better. His heart swelled immensely, committing the moment to his memory alongside their secrets together.

He regarded her warmth through the fabric of her dress, all in contrast to the cold air of spring. There was the way her mouth curved upwards into that subtle smile of hers, the amber hues of her eyes reflecting the moon’s light as she sought for his tranquil thoughts.

It was how they were for who knew how long; just the two of them in their own world. It was as if they were living a chapter heard in fairy tales.

“So... Elric’s married.” Roy started as casually as he could, an act that they were just having another everyday conversation.

Riza then lifted a brow in wonder, but nodded nonetheless and said, “That he is.”

“He married his mechanic, who’s also a childhood friend of his.”

Riza nodded again.

“Someone who supported him and his brother until they reached their goal.”

As the woman eased her expression and softened her gaze, Roy watched her come to an understanding. He didn’t react, however, in conveyance that everything was an aspect of simplicity. But he knew that she comprehended what he was trying to say--- whatever it was--- and that he was waiting for her to play along with this game that he had set out.

Strangely enough, he hadn’t exactly known what it was himself, despite being the instigator of it all.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Riza said, “It does sound like their story came out of a romance novel.”

Roy laughed inwardly at the response, “Of course you would know that, considering the amount of times I’ve caught you reading those kinds of books,” Then dropping his voice to nothing more than a whisper, Roy continued with a teasing remark, “Tell me, Lieutenant, how often does a knight in shining armour swoop in to save a damsel-in-distress from the big, bad dragon?”

Without having to wait for a beat, Riza replied, “Not that often, actually. Truth be told, I’m not big on the romance/fantasy genre, so you’re just making assumptions at this point, sir.”

“Am I?”

“You are. You should know well by now that I’m not one for fairy tales.”

“I thought you of all people loved those kinds of stories,” Roy paused as he attempted to create a summary of the fantasies that he had heard numerous times before, “A courageous man taking up the stead to save a woman he loves, who then returns his feelings after his brave act, and they live happily ever after.”

“Yes, but they make it sound so easy when it’s really not--- like true love’s kiss. What, do they expect me to believe that every curse could be fixed with a single kiss, especially from a person whom they barely know?”

Sighing as he listened, Roy rested his forehead against Riza’s and closed his eyes, feeling the brush of her breath across his skin. “I suppose you’re right,” He said, “Fairy tales are entirely too fictional and fabricated for the dreams of children. It’s a wonder as to why you never believed in them.”

There was heavy silence afterwards.

“I never got the chance to.” He then heard her say.

Bearing the sudden seriousness in her character, Roy felt guilt creep into the corners of his mind and winced within as they stopped dancing. Once again, he spoke without thinking and even if she did not take it to heart, it was still an unnecessary comment. He gave himself the second mental slap of the night, cursing his stupid mouth as he always did whenever he knew that he had said something carelessly.

He moved back slightly, just enough to see the woman’s unreadable guise, and was just about to apologise when he felt her left-hand cup his face. She caressed his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb, leaving an invisible track that was nought but felt altogether. He found himself leaning into her touch, the apology in his eyes rather than said.

“If anything,” Riza began, “I almost believed in those stories when you came around.”

That took him by surprise.

“Oh?”

Riza merely shrugged, “You made things little more bearable.”

“So… are you implying that I’m your prince charming?”

The woman chortled at that, lightening the weight Roy had in his chest moments ago, “Being my prince charming suggests that we have a love story.”

Roy gave her a deadpan stare, “We don’t have a love story?”

“Do we have a love story?” Riza returned.

At that, Roy grimaced and clutched the space as to where his heart would have been. “Ouch. Are you really planning on wounding my poor heart throughout the night?”

Mirth danced along his partner’s features, her most beloved smile making an appearance as if it were a gift. “I don’t know, haven’t decided yet, actually.”

Seeing as to how the flower bloomed, Roy stepped back into quietude, obviously admiring the beauty that his gaze beheld. He then took the hand against his cheek and brought her knuckles to his lips, before placing another kiss on her ring finger; lingering there for a while as the two simply looked at each other.

Nothing was said out loud, although so much was heard.

He may have been no prince charming or her knight in shining armour, and she was no damsel-in-distress for him to save. Their lives were far from being a fable of love and happiness, but if Roy Mustang was certain of one thing, it was that they were bound to reach their happy ending--- no matter how long it would have taken them to get there.

For now, he had her and that was enough for him to keep going. Everyone knew that he was willing to do so much more than to protect her from the beast, just as how she continued to do so day-by-day. Everything he had to offer was already given, and everything he received from her was kept wholeheartedly. There was nothing between them that required words of explanation.

So, screw the fantasies and fairy tales.

What was the point of being a prince and a damsel-in-distress, when he was the king and she was his queen?

#FMA #RoyAi #also with a hint of EdWin there---#royai fic #Fullmetal Alchemist #Chie writes.#i was technically finished with this yesterday #but then when I went to double check it last night :))))#lmao.#The last 500 words disappeared so I was pissed af :)))))#BUT I ended up rewriting the ending and I'm definitely more happy with it now!!!#I ALMOST went down the angst lane but i was like 'chie don't bloody do it omg'#IT'S ANGST FREE!!!!

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recentanimenews · 5 years ago

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Remembering The Absolutely Bizarre Pokémon Christmas Album

Back in 2001, we were graced with a Pokémon Christmas album entitled Pokémon Christmas Bash. Featuring the classic voices of the 4Kids English dub, it was released on October 23, giving parents plenty of time to choose it as the weirdest gift that they'd be giving their kids that year. I know that Christmas albums are an odd product by default ("Ya like Elvis? Well, what if he was to sing about Santa for thirty minutes?"), but considering that this also is sort of about Pokémon turns the strangeness up a notch.

I say "sort of" because half the time, the songs can barely be bothered to remember that it's a Pokémon-themed album. For the most part, it's a Christmas album being sung by Ash Ketchum and Meowth and every once in a while, they randomly remember that Pokémon exists as a concept. You'd think that they'd go all out and talk about Ice Type Pokémon making it snow and Delibird giving presents and all that, but nope. One of the songs, "I Keep Home In My Heart" doesn't even mention Pokémon at all. It's sung by Brock and Misty, and while they do name-drop their hometowns of Pewter and Cerulean City respectively, they seem to have taken some moral stance here, as if they're tired of being known for Pokémon training and want to break out into the world of clumsy holiday music.

However, one Pokémon that does get its time to shine is Stantler, as it is mentioned in three separate songs: "Winter Is The Coolest Time Of Year," "The Christmas Song," and "Must Be Santa." Heck, in those last two, it's the only Pokémon that gets mentioned. And while this is understandable, as Stantler is a reindeer Pokémon and reindeer are Christmas mascots, I would not have minded a focus on a second Pokémon. The only other Pokémon that gets a whole song to itself is Pikachu and that's the brand ambassador of the franchise. I don't necessarily appreciate the Stantler propaganda is what I'm saying here.

That Pikachu song, "I'm Giving Santa A Pikachu This Christmas," is one of the most fun ones, by the way. It's sung by Professor Oak, who for some reason has decided to trick Santa into getting injured by and then adopting a Pikachu for Christmas. This is a gross misunderstanding of how Christmas works. You don't just leave a stray animal in your stocking and hope that Santa arbitrarily decides to give it a foster home. And considering that Pikachu is known for shocking anything it doesn't like, this seems like a surefire way to end up with one less Santa.

But I think the most bizarre part of the album is the fact that it really leans into Ash and Misty being a thing. In the opening song, after you get, and I can't stress how much I'm not making this up, a rap verse from Dexter the Pokédex, Brock drops some absolute BARS. And then Misty follows up, but suddenly ends her verse with a wish for one dance with Ash. It comes out of nowhere, and six songs later, we get the Ash/Misty duet "Under The Mistletoe," which begins with Ash singing "There's a feeling I'm getting / I just can't explain / Makin' me glad tonight." The rest of the song is similarly insane, with Ash and Misty taking turns being Barry White and talking about revealing their true feelings under the mistletoe.

I don't know how this particular piece of fan fiction got on the album, but I want to light it on fire. I don't care how many theories it validates. I listened to this album while I wrote this piece in a coffee shop and I kept one hand firmly on the cord of my headphones to make sure that it didn't accidentally eject itself. "Stay cool, Dockery," I said to myself, "Act natural and no one will know that you're listening to a song about the main characters in the Pokémon anime wanting to make out. Sip your Americano and make them think that you're listening to jazz or yodeling or Pitbull or anything else."

Lastly, the album ends with "karaoke" versions of two of the songs, which is the most niche thing that has ever been added to any album in the history of music. Its addition implies that 1) You like these songs enough to remember them, and 2) That you remember them well enough to sing over the lyric-less instrumentals of them. That said, if I did find "I'm Giving Santa A Pikachu This Christmas" in the catalog at a bar's karaoke night, you BEST BELIEVE that I'm belting it. Merry Christmas to me. Sorry, everyone else.

Do you remember this album? What is your favorite song from it? Let us know in the comments!

--------------

Daniel Dockery is a writer, editor and Stantler enthusiast. You should follow him on Twitter.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

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strangerays · 4 years ago

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Nothing in Particular Update #1

Hello, hello!! It’s been a really long time since I’ve written an update for this story! (this is a real update btw, forget the “first” one I had) To be honest, I haven’t been able to work on this story as much as I would like, being busy with classes and... well just life in general. (what I mean by this is that Shadow and Bone was released on Netflix) But! I do have some excerpts I wanted to put out there as well as some overall changes to the story.

Before I start: here’s the actual link to the story synopsis/characters!

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-): @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-girl @baguettethebooklover @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting @raenawrites

STORY CHANGES/IDEAS:

First off: I had to rewrite 30,000 words and basically turn it into 10,000. The first draft was icky, but I turned it into something I really enjoy! This is a sign that writing is always worth it!!

I added in a couple of characters! I was starting to feel like the story might not have been balanced enough. Luckily, the muse struck me and I created Mars and Theo! Mars is a lovely (and enigmatic) older woman that Ray meets at a bird sanctuary and Theo is a new friend of Lonan’s.

There wasn’t much action in the beginning of the story, so I wrote a confrontation between Jude’s friends and another person that Ray spies on. This is how she meets Jude, and I am in lovvve.

The timeline for the entire story might be a little bit longer than I intended! I went into this project thinking it might only take place over a month, but in order for Ray’s mental health journey to be realistic, I’m going to shoot for an entire school year (around six-seven months). Honestly, I’m just happy I get to write a Halloween scene. As for the word count total HAHA I have no clue what that will look like.

I think Lonan will be a bit of a back-burner character! At first, I was a little wary of this decision since he’s my favorite, but I think it would be very exciting to have Ray hype him up before he ever appears in the story. That way, the reader sort of starts to think about him in one way, yet he might be completely different when he finally shows up...??

Chapter titles are one of my favorite things about this story. Also! I am a huge fan of short chapters! They move the story right along.

I prefer to write slower and use other projects to balance out this one when I get a little tired of it. Over the last month or so, I’ve gotten really into short story writing again! This has been really helpful in working on my specificity and pretty prose. Even though the short stories don’t contribute to Nothing in Particular, I’ve been taking a lot of what I’m learning and applying it!

EXCERPTS (UNDER THE CUT)

CHAPTER ONE: THE SPY

During the summer between my sophomore and junior year, Lonan Herrings packed me into his Dad’s repainted Chevrolet, left his name sharp on his mother’s tongue, and drove to New York City at six in the morning. For the first time since we’d become friends, jealousy weighed our silence. He buzzed across the highway, even though we knew his mother had no intention of finding us.

“Which animal would I be,” he asked, “if I left tomorrow and lived in the forest?”

“Why would you want to do that?” I smiled even though I knew he was probably serious.

His shoulders squared and he looked out his window. Two men in the next car shouted at each other, their windows down. Something about a mortgage. “You would come with me, of course.” He turned to me. “Which animal gets along best with a doe?”

I shut my eyes to snap the cold. It might have been the fact that, most times, his gentle voice pulled ragged words from his throat, as if he had just stepped out of the rain after standing in it for hours. It might have been the way he cupped the rim of a camera with humble demure. I was never afraid to tell him anything in the patience that bled from him. His eyes were milky blue and he wore an olive jacket covered in pins that kept strangers interested. Since he seemed like he felt out of place most times, I never did. We were a grade apart; our friendship bloomed late. So long as I had a friend at all, I didn’t care how we’d met.

“You would be a blue jay,” I decided. For only a second, I’d been worried that I offended him, until his mouth curved to one side and he laughed softly, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed. His head hovered over the steering wheel. A patch of freckles absently creeped over the bridge of his nose like winter weeds.

This first chapter is a flashback to exactly a year before the second chapter takes place! After an argument with his mom, Lonan drives out of state with Ray. I plan for it to be all we see of Lonan (in the present) up until the halfway point of the story.

CHAPTER TWO: I WAS QUIET

I was a firm believer that the best art was created when the artist was alone, angry, or depressed.

After Lonan secured his train ticket to New York, I was surprised to find that I became none of these things. We buried a time capsule, painted his walls cerulean, and drove two-hundred miles without a word to anyone. Some of my most colorful memories were unplanned in the beginning.

Katherine Herrings’ bakery loitered over the coast of town, sheltered in pitch crags and shallow tide pools congested with cigarettes. I often ate lunch on the deck on my break. She was the only person I knew who – after everything her nephew had said – didn’t make him the first topic of our conversations.

An indie rock song that I recognized buzzed from a radio below me. I pulled my tablet screen down and pushed my chair out so the plastic legs kicked up and scratched the backs of my legs. Slowly, I peered between my ankles, through the patio boards, and into the boat lodge below. Pumpkin-red hair plastered to my forehead in the heat that clung to the late days of September. Waves bubbled and crashed, peanut oil dripped from hot dog buns, and muffled gossip chirped like a family of cicadas. I bit my tongue at the bitter smoke that warped the wind.

Jude laughed then, and her shoulders tipped, haughty. Waves hissed in her silence as the lights in the kitchen behind Katherine flickered. Her mouth opened slightly at the ring of dishes and laughter that danced with each other inside. A moment passed before she took a wide step back.

Together, her accomplices waltzed after her as she ran down the pavement, flecking sand until the night’s blue air gulped their outlines. Katherine beat a towel against the patio leg, then she slid and locked the door. Frogs jeered in the silence that pervaded the sea.

I whispered the name back to myself so I wouldn’t forget it. Jude Ahuja. I took a sip of ginger ale, and she buzzed on my lips.

The story cuts to Ray’s senior year of high school. Summer has just ended, Lonan has left for college, and her camera is broken. Jude is a bit like a character out of a film to her, and she wishes she could know more about her after witnessing a loud argument with Katherine Herrings, Lonan’s aunt.

CHAPTER THREE: PEOPLE-WATCHING

Early into our friendship, I’d learned this patience. The first time he brought me to Sugarfell, he told me that all of the paths led back to the same place. As long as you played the game, you were guaranteed a prize. He didn’t speak much, but I knew he wasn’t a very good liar.

Less than an hour passed when I was met with silence. I crept up and down the same path four times. Each step sent a shock through my legs to my chest. The sun hadn’t risen to the highest point in the sky, still glimmering through tree branches in golden fractals, pulling on static darkness.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

I shook my head fast. “No.” My voice barely reached a whisper. It was a lot deeper than normal.

He puckered his lips as though I had offended him. “But you were about to.”

“You said that all the paths lead back to one another.” I stood up from the jagged stump and shuffled through the leaves until the tips of our shoes were inches apart. “I knew you’d come back. And you did.”

When I turned back, sore curiosity teased the emerald in Lonan’s eyes.

“Do you ever people-watch?” he asked softly.

This chapter is another really short chapter that I’m ultimately not sure I’m going to keep! I sort of included it by accident while Ray was riding her bike to the forest, but I ended up really liking it as a bridge into the next scene. Hopefully, I find I way to make it fit!!

CHAPTER FOUR: SUGAR-COATED

Years with Lonan had prepared me for being alone. If you spend any long amount of time with someone, you’ll become a thief to their behaviors. Lonan observed too much. If I stared long enough, trees began to replace all of the people we’d ever seen. Oaks with roots that serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like spindly old hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes.

I did remember, but I couldn’t then. Blood gushed too close to his eyelid and dripped down his cheek like tears. There was a grace period in my life – likely when I was a newborn – when I couldn’t picture what my blood would look like on the light side of my skin.

And this is where I’ll leave off on the excerpts for now! I’ve been really focused on taking my time and setting things up before the next chapter, which is going to have lots more action in it. Things are going to start picking up again, so I’m really excited for that!

Thanks for reading if you made it this far :)

#nothing in particular and everything #my writing #writing updates #I was so so so #SOOOO #nervous about this one bros #I'm having a difficult time deciding what to share and what not to share #but I think I did an okay job #anyways #excited for the next scene I'll be writing #UPWARDS AND ONWARDS #<3

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