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hold-my-hand-kuroo · 5 years ago

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four seasons with akaashi

wow i think i’m starting to see a pattern of not knowing what i’m writing???

pairing: akaashi x reader

genre: fluff

Spring comes with many firsts: the first year of high school, first cherry blossoms, and first love.

Akaashi is quiet, but not opposed to interaction. You realize this when you join Fukurodani’s volleyball club as the manager and watch in awe as the silent setter dealt with Boktuo in such a calm manner. You momentarily forget that the two of you are the same age. He’s calm, composed, and quick to put a stop to Bokuto’s antics; you’ve even heard him go through the wing spiker’s long list of weaknesses in passing. In short, you think Akaashi is amazing.

In fact, he’s so amazing that you find it hard to get closer to him although the two of you were in the same class. It’s not that you feel that he’s cold toward you, but it’s difficult to strike a conversation up with someone who seemed to dislike the loudness of Bokuto so much. You’d hate to disturb him, especially since he already has his hands full, but you can’t help catching your eyes landing on his figure from time to time.

Sometimes during classes, your eyes wander toward your right where Akaashi sits studiously, writing down careful notes from each and every lecture. You notice the light pen callus on the side of his ring finger and how he miraculously keeps his paper straight on his desk when he’s writing. He’ll never openly volunteer to answer or read, but whenever the teacher calls on him, his answers are correct, and you can’t help but feel soothed by his voice.

When you’re not looking at him, you don’t catch the stray glances that Akaashi also sends toward your way. He doesn’t understand why but opts to justify it with the fact that the two of you had volleyball in common, and that the volleyball jacket you wore frequently stood out specifically from the rest of the uniforms. Sometimes he’ll break into a smile when he sees that your papers end up shifting, tilted at a ridiculous angle when you’re concentrated on writing or when your brows furrow at a particularly tricky problem. He thinks it’s secretly amusing, endearing almost.

“I’ll help,” Akaashi offers quietly one day, reaching toward the basket carrying the bottles that you had just filled. It’s the first thing he has said to you ever, aside from the casual ‘hellos’ and ‘thanks’ he spared whenever you managed to make eye contact with him. It’s so foreign that you think you’ve done something wrong, but the fact that he’s merely a few inches apart from you makes your thoughts stop.

“Sorry if I was being slow,” you murmur finally, a little embarrassed, and hang your head low. Akaashi lets out a rather affronted noise that startles the both of you, and you turn to look at him, confused.

“No, I just thought it looked heavy,” he tries again, seeming to struggle with his words. Rather than following up, he lets the topic drop and takes a water bottle, not noticing Bokuto smiling rather smugly behind him.

“Don’t mind him, Y/N!” the owl-like boy laughs. “That’s just ‘Kaashi trying to be friends with you! He’s been mulling over it for days now! Whenever we’re in the changing rooms, he’s always like, ‘I wonder if Y/N dislikes me. We’re in the same class and club, but we don’t talk often’—“

“Bokuto, please shut up,” Akaashi says pointedly, trying to cover the taller boy’s mouth. He’s uncharacteristically flustered, and if you squinted, you could see the pink rising on his cheeks along with his frustrated furrowed brows. You almost laugh too; even the stoic setter could have his feathers ruffled sometimes, and in full honesty, it was such a refreshing sight to see.

“Actually,” you start shyly, chuckling slightly, “I was under the impression that I was disliked by you. I guess we both misunderstood.”

Akaashi shifts his attention from Bokuto to you, looking rather surprised. He’s sure that greeting you frequently would do well to break the ice, but he can’t believe that he gave you such a cold impression. It wasn’t lost on him that his silence usually came off unwelcoming, but he decides then and there that he should try harder. For what, he doesn’t really know.

“Isn’t that nice, ‘Kaashi? You made a friend!”

And so, Akaashi returns to scolding Bokuto about interrupting conversations and saying too much while, as promised, helping you hand out the bottles. The banter is lively and nice, the most emotion you’ve seen the setter express, and you think that you could get used to the chaos that is the volleyball club.

Spring is when the first seeds of love are planted, waiting to bloom.

ii.

Summer is hot with the buzzing of cicadas and the smell of sweat mixed with freshly-cut grass. It’s a little nauseating.

Hosting training camps were literal hell; in between making sure that there are enough clean towels, extra bottles, and an abundance of food, you find most of your summer dedicated to manager work. It’s torturous under the beating heat of the sun, and it makes you think about leaving the club forever. Of course, you don’t and never would, but the thought’s there.

Bokuto’s practically bouncing off the gym walls during the days leading up to the big event. For days on end, he’s talking about Nekoma-this or Nekoma-that, and by the time the team of stray cats actually arrives, you’re sure that you already know their names. You note that he’s the closest to the one with messy hair and a cackle louder than Bokuto’s yells. It’s overwhelming, especially for Akaashi who has to be there to calm Bokuto down, but also keep his spirits up for three days straight.

“Tired?” you ask during one of the breaks, handing him a bottle filled with chilled water and a plate of sliced watermelon. He accepts it graciously with a simple nod.

“With the way Bokuto keeps playing, we’re bound to be doing more diving drills,” he sighs. You giggle a little at the exasperation in his voice, but you still feel a little bad. Running around with towels was already tiring enough, so you can’t imagine working up a harder sweat under this relentless heat. “Are you busy?”

“Yeah,” you respond, stretching out your arms. “I thought setting up the sleeping area was bad, but cooking for a thousand volleyball players is absolutely the worst.”

He nods sympathetically and slides over on the stair step that he’s been sitting on, a silent invitation for you to take the spot next to him. You’re touched at his kindness and want nothing more than to accept the offer and just talk for hours on end to Akaashi, but you shake your head. There were things that needed to be done, and you’d hate for Yukie and Kaori to be the ones doing your share of the work. Akaashi seems to understand.

It’s a little disappointing to see so little of each other during the day even though the two of you were at the same location for the same reasons. To Akaashi, you’re a nice and fresh breeze that counters the loud arguments between Bokuto, Kuroo, and the delinquent-looking guy from Nekoma; you’re calm and can read him like an open book. With you around, he doesn’t feel the need to struggle over finding the proper words, and even when he does speak, it’s not a scolding. He’s at ease when you’re there with him.

Much to Akaashi’s luck and yours too, nighttime is when things calm down. You find him sitting quietly at the sidelines of the gym, making sure that Bokuto doesn’t break anything out of sheer excitement as he works on blocking with Kuroo. He’s working on his summer assignments, and it’s expected from him, but you’re quite amused at how even after a grueling day’s practice, he still finds it in himself to study. This time, you’re free and take the spot on the floor next to him.

“Mind if I join?” you ask, waving your math assignments around. He’s more than happy to have you there and nods not once, but twice. “Aren’t you tired?”

“If I don’t do a little bit every night, it piles up,” he mumbles, writing numbers neatly into his notebook. “It helps me go to sleep better, too.”

“I’m usually the night-before kind of person,” you laugh, opening up your booklet as well. “This is the first time in my life that I’ve done my summer work early.”

He hums, which is how he reacts when he’s surprised, you’ve learned. The two of you sit in silence, exchanging words once in a while for help. Akaashi’s way ahead of you, but you’re glad that he doesn’t find you too annoying when you ask to compare answers for the first few exercises that you’ve done. The yelling and crooning of Bokuto and Kuroo become white noise; you’re only fully aware of Akaashi right now and the fact that your shoulders are so close to touching. Five centimeters. Maybe six, but nothing more than that.

Even now, after months of getting to know him, you find your eyes glancing at him from time to time. You’re distracted, and you want to beat yourself up for it, but it’s almost instinctive. His side profile and his concentration are mesmerizing, his silence giving him an air of elegance. You’re so tempted to move closer, to fill those few centimeters and come into physical contact with the boy next to you, but you get flustered at the exact thought. The two of you were friends. Setter and manager. Classmates. Nothing more.

Unsurprisingly, your progress is poor, and you’re a little ashamed to say it’s because you were distracted by Akaashi. Even when the training camp is over, you still haven’t managed to make a large dent into your math work, and you’re ten times less motivated to continue it once you’re home and without Akaashi. It’s a blessing that the boy is an angel and is at your door during the last weekend of your well-deserved summer break.

“I was wondering if you needed help,” he says simply with a bag filled with cold drinks and ice cream in hand. He’s an angel. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t-“

“No I do!�� you answer quickly, heart beating fast. “I still have three more subjects to do, so I’m in a little trouble.”

Akaashi blinks at your outburst, and then breaks into one of his rare smiles. He lets out a laugh, a genuine, hearty laugh that you’ve never heard before, and you think you’ve finally discovered what angels singing sound like. You’re so mesmerized by Akaashi himself that it doesn’t exactly hit you that you’ve invited him into your room until much, much later, when he’s again, five or six centimeters away from you. Leaning on his elbow, he reaches over to your paper to point out errors or little tips, but they’re just noises to you. Lovely noises, but you don’t register a thing he’s saying. His mouth is moving, and you’re aware that you should be paying attention, but whether it’s this cursed heat or own nervousness that’s making you heat up and your heart throb like crazy, you’re mind is anywhere but on your work.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” Akaashi asks, looking toward you.

“No,” you play off cooly, or as cooly as you could. “It’s just a little hot, don’t you think?”

“I have ice cream if you want,” he offers kindly, moving away from you and rustling through his bag. You let out a breath.

Summer is hot, and it’s when you realize that your little interest with the team’s setter is something a lot more than a small crush. It terrifies you.

iii.

Autumn brings in a refreshing chill that replaces summer, and before you know it, the leaves have turned into beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows.

Days have grown shorter, and by the time you leave the school, juggling between manager duties and the cultural festival, the sky outside is practically pitch-black. Walking home alone is a problem, which is why Akaashi takes it upon himself to walk you back home. Him and Bokuto, that is. Akaashi’s aware that he isn’t the scariest or strongest guy around, so he figures that with Bokuto’s large build and even larger voice would provide extra security.

The first time the two walk you home, Bokuto’s talking a mile a minute about how cool his class’s haunted house is coming out and making every effort to invite both you and Akaashi to check it out. Akaashi only comments about how he’ll be busy with his own class, even though you know well that he has free time in the afternoon. You stifle a giggle and nod, encouraging Bokuto to continue and hyping him up out of kindness.

It bothers Akaashi more than he thinks it would, and he almost feels silly for feeling so sour whenever Bokuto had your attention. It’s becoming a more and more frequent thing, he realizes that night. Even during practices, he preferred it when you were talking to just him rather than the other players, and it makes him disgusted with himself for being so selfish. He’s typically not the type of person to tape his fingers, but whenever you walk toward him and offer to help with tape in hand, he never turns you down.

There’s just something about the way your hand radiates a comforting warmth. When your fingers brush against his digits, carefully wrapping the white material around his damaged fingers, he finds it too quick, almost to the point of teasing. There are days where you’ll be so focused on the bandaging that you don’t notice the fondness in his eyes, scanning over your figure and wishing that your fingers would just intertwine with his. Akaashi wants something permanent, something longer than just brief encounters, and he secretly wishes that you’d give him all your attention.

But of course, he can’t say that to you. He find his wishes ugly. You’re Fukorodani’s manager, not his, and it was wrong of him to think otherwise. Still, he can’t help but feel a little bit bothered whenever Bokuto leaned a little too close to you whenever he spoke, shaking your shoulders or patting you on the back out of enthusiasm. Akaashi figures that he wouldn’t be bothered if you weren’t bothered, but it eats away at him when he doesn’t see you rejecting any of Bokuto’s energy.

“Let’s go,” Akaashi says to you one night. You look at him, tilting your head.

“But what about Bokuto?”

“Coach wanted to talk to him,” Akaashi informs before turning toward the door. He makes a motion, so you shrug and follow. The coach part isn’t a lie, but Akaashi leaves out the part about Bokuto nudging him in the ribs and telling him to spend some “quality alone-time” with you, since it’s too embarrassing.

The two of you walk home with you chatting about the day and how busy it is. Akaashi listens to your lovely voice, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing sound there is; it’s a stark contrast to Bokuto’s yelling, and he swears that he could listen to you talk about anything and still be emotionally invested. That being said, he’s not exactly paying that much attention, because as you continue rambling about how making the costumes for your class play is just too difficult, Akaashi becomes increasingly aware of the space between the two of you. Or rather, the lack thereof.

He estimates a few centimeters. Maybe three or four. He’s not sure, but he’s so tempted to reach for the same fingers that had danced around his countless of times during practice. He wants to feel your hand in his, and instinctively, he moves his hand closer to yours. He wonders if you’ve noticed too, if you’re just as aware of him, as he was of you. Maybe then, he’d feel more confident about his feelings.

Akaashi’s no fool. He knows that he’s in too deep when it came to you, but he also knows that those feelings were already there long before autumn started. Even during the summer, he’s curious to know if you noticed how he was sweating bullets when he entered your well-cooled room, or if you saw how often he found himself looking for you during the training camp. He wants to know if he catches your eye in any sort of way, and he needs the reassurance that in some sort of miraculous way, he makes a stronger impression on you than Bokuto does.

Autumn is when the leaves begin to wither and die, much like Akaashi’s self-confidence. He retracts his hand.

iv.

Winter is when the first snow falls.

Akaashi’s still walking you home, much to your pleasure, and although you’re not entirely sure why Bokuto has to stay after to see the coach so often now, you can’t really complain. It’s a little mean, and you do like Bokuto platonically, but you’re grateful for every second alone that you spend with Akaashi. You’re even more delighted when he becomes more involved with your conversations, speaking more and more. It’s like he finally opened up to you, and you’re ecstatic that you’ve become his confidant.

“It’s getting colder and colder, huh?” you say, bracing yourself as a particularly strong gust of wind blows. You grasp at the hood of your jacket to keep it from blowing off, but you’re still freezing nonetheless.

“Should we stop for hot tea?” Akaashi asks, frowning. “The convenience store is just around the corner.”

“Last one there has to treat!” you declare and break into a dash for the store. He follows behind, jogging rather slowly. You knew that in any circumstance, even if given a thirty minute handicap, Akaashi would probably be able to outrun you, so you know that he’s letting you win when he isn’t instantly right past you.

“I guess I’m treating,” he says, walking toward you when you reach the destination, and you roll your eyes. “Not happy?”

“You didn’t have to let me win, you know?” you chuckle as he opens the door for you. “I can well afford two teas instead of one.”

“But I wanted to treat you,” he answers simply. He grabs two bottles of lukewarm tea, his preferred brand and your favorite brand that he has committed to memory.

Even with the tea in your hand, you still find yourself freezing again the moment you step outside the shop. You try to hide it, but your shiver gives you away, and Akaashi is immediately back to frowning.

“We should get you home quickly,” he decides, picking up his pace. Now it’s your turn to frown; it’d only get colder from here, and if that meant rushed walks every night, you’re devastated that your time with Akaashi would be shortened. It’s silly, and you know that you should put your health first, but you wish that there could be another way. You lag a few steps behind him, hoping that he’d notice, and of course, he does.

He takes a peek behind his shoulder, and while still frowning, matches your pace. The two of you walk in the same comfortable silence that you’ve enjoyed for the past months, and you aren’t thinking about anything particular until you feel something warm against your hand that isn’t the tea. You almost stop breathing but choose to keep quiet as Akaashi’s hand maneuvers itself slowly around yours. He’s painfully deliberate about the entire thing, hesitating at each action and stopping every so often as if fighting with himself. Gently, he rests his finger in between yours, and the grip is so loose that you think your hand might slip out. He braces himself for you to fling your hand away, but when you don’t and instead look at him in shock and confusion, he’s out of words for a proper explanation.

“I thought your hands looked cold,” is the best he can manage, because even if you asked him what he thought he was doing, he doesn’t have a good answer. He’s not thinking straight; if he was, he would’ve asked for permission. “Sorry-“

“Yeah, they are,” you answer quietly, looking at the pavement and coming to a full stop. “Thanks.”

When Akaashi feels your fingers wrap around his hand, he almost thanks the weather for being the way it is, so that he can blame his reddening face on the cold. He gives you a light squeeze, which you return along with a smile from ear to ear and a flush just as severe as his. He feels a little dumb now for being jealous over Boktuo.

“Now we can walk slower, right?” you ask, looking shyly toward him, but are dismayed when he shakes his head.

“We still have to get you home, so you won’t catch a cold.” Always ever so responsible. “But I wouldn’t mind giving you a call after.”

“A really long call?”

“Yeah,” is all he says, smiling too. He’s not sure if he can put what love feels like into proper words, but he supposes that it’d be similar to the feeling of your hand wrapped around his, swinging happily as the two of you walk under the light snowfall.

Winter is cold, really cold, but you’ve found the perfect person to keep you warm.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#akaashi #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #akaashi suffering #reader insert

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sepublic · 4 years ago

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My Aucus Blight Dream...

Last night, I had a crazy dream. It was a new episode of The Owl House, for Season 2, and apparently Dana REALLY delivered on her promise of things being darker… Because for some reason, the Boiling Isles was now an apocalyptic wasteland, sort of like one you’d see from Fallout? And Belos was still low-key in charge, like there wasn’t an official government, but he had access to most of the resources and food, and got people to fight with one another for him, with the victor getting stuff.

Of course, none of this really matters for the rest of the dream, which follows Amity. And she’s in some sort of room, the whole place does not look very apocalyptic and it’s like my dream abandoned that setting/plot thread immediately; But there’s a picture of her representing the Abomination Track, and she’s both proud, but also kind of guilty and implied to have yet another skeleton in her closet, because this kid clearly hasn’t been traumatized enough. There’s a new Season 2 character, a Witch from another school; I can’t remember much, but I know she’s taller than most of our Hexsidian protagonists, has silver, short hair, green eyes, and vaguely resembles this Grudgby player from Glandus, in Amity’s flashback to her Grudgby years.

Said girl has a bit of a grudge against Amity for some reason, and she’s also a very skilled Illusionist (dang this track gets a lot of rep). From what I can recall –it’s all kind of mismatched and hazy from here- Amity’s set to make some sort of official appearance doing something… Anyhow, Amity’s rival is out and about snooping, using her Illusions to look like others, including Amity. Luz, Willow, and Gus realize Amity’s got something on her mind…

Eventually, it’s revealed that Emira and Edric aren’t the only twins; AMITY used to have her own twin, one identical to her named Aucus Blight! But by some tragic, horrific mistake, Amity was practicing a fire spell and accidentally killed Aucus… Odalia and Alador covered it up by basically erasing Aucus’ existence, and had Amity take their place; And that picture of Amity representing the Abomination Track is actually AUCUS, not Amity!

The rival from the other school overhears this and sheds her illusion, basically spilling the truth out to some other students, particularly Boscha and Skara, and uses this as an example for why Amity is actually a terrible person and deserves to be hated, because she’s stealing credit or whatever. Amity reconnects with Boscha and Skara by apologizing to how she treated them back when they were friends (although not for being angry at their treatment of Willow later on), as Amity was kind of cold and distant and dismissive.

Boscha and Skara forgive her and reconnect, and the rest of Hexside just sort of takes this into stride and recognizes that Amity’s trying to be a better person. Then they all go back to being bored in class like nothing happened(?), and the rival is briefly frustrated by her lack of progress, but then just goes along with it too. And so all of the students are mutually united over their boredom in class as they sit in rows of desks through a lecture and briefly interact with one another through small interactions as it happens. In my dream, this was even called the ‘Broken Retribution AU’ for some reason… I guess because it was the retribution of Aucus, posthumously and from the grave? I dunno.

Honestly, it’s weird how Belos and the whole Fallout setting just immediately lost relevance. Though, I think there may have been a deal that Alador made, on behalf of Odalia, with Belos; I can’t remember the details or if that’s what actually happened, but maybe it’s related to the cover-up of Aucus Blight’s existence. Aucus was differentiated from Amity by sometimes having orange sleeves (even though they were in Abominations), and generally being happier and brighter. I believe there was also a letter involved at some point, written either by Amity or Alador, either in the past or present, that offered a clue and hint as to the whole Aucus situation; Regardless, when Luz, Willow, and Gus find out, they don’t judge and console Amity for her grief and tragic mistake, that it wasn’t her fault…

And likewise, they give her the chance to actually grieve Aucus openly, when Odalia and Alador wouldn’t let her, and instead tried to sweep Aucus’ entire existence under the rug and have Amity replace them, which was of course incredibly disrespectful to her and made Amity feel like she was destroying her sibling’s memory. And, I guess that’s another reason why Amity hid the truth, because of the shame and guilt at killing her twin, stealing their achievements, and acting like they didn’t exist; So she feels like a terrible person for being complicit in this conspiracy, even though her parents forced her to be. But now, the truth is out thanks to that rival of all people, and Aucus can be properly acknowledged and mourned, and Amity no longer has to desecrate their memory.

Also, I think Aucus might’ve been male for some reason, even though Amity was able to take their place and both were mistaken for one another? Apparently, Principal Bump never really noticed the difference, although Amity and Aucus WERE identical in appearance, so I guess it makes a bit more sense? I dunno, it’s a dream so they don’t always make a lot of sense. But now Luz looks at that picture with the full recognition that this is a Blight sibling she never got to meet, one that Amity adored and misses, and that Aucus’ death probably made her feel even more lonely and broken, especially when contrasted with Emira and Edric who were also twins but still had one another.

In fact, within the context of my dream… I think there was even the reveal/implication that Luz HAD met Aucus, that both them and Amity were running about, but Luz had thought Aucus was Amity, because she’d only ever heard of Amity at the time- And THEN Aucus died, probably before Lost in Language, or shortly after. And apparently this accounted for the different ways Amity acted towards Luz at the beginning of the show (at least within the ‘universe’ of this dream, she acted pretty consistently in the actual show)? The whole dream was kind of incoherent, but with this additional, possible detail, then it just makes Luz’s reflection all the more messed-up, because she DID meet Aucus but thought they were Amity, and Aucus had no idea, and now she realizes why Amity acted ‘different’ those few other times…

And Luz completely missed Aucus’ presence and kind of feels bad for it too, like she contributed to their erasure by mistaking them for Amity; And then Luz wonders what Aucus was like, what Aucus thought of her and her interactions with the actual Amity, and how it sucks that Luz never got to fix things over with Aucus like she did Amity. Aucus died before Luz could clarify her stance on who she is, and now Amity is grieving over the fact that Aucus died with a bad opinion of Luz and never got to know the girl for real, and settle this thing. Luz reconsiders who Amity is now that she realizes those select instances weren’t her friend, while making room for Aucus’ existence in her head and mourning them too.

It was a weird, very messed-up dream that really shook me up on a level almost similar to Agony of a Witch, which says a lot about the intensity of these revelations; Like this was Amity’s parallel to Lilith accidentally cursing her sister way more than she intended to. Except, while Eda still lived and Lilith could patch things over with her… Aucus DIED, and those things will never be resolved, and there’s still that regret. It was all just a horrifying reveal and revelation, as dramatic as you’d expect, that makes you view everything we’ve seen beforehand in an entirely new, much more twisted light, a re-contextualization that adds so much tragedy to what was once fairly normal scenes, and leaves you questioning everything and the implications of it all, and what horrified thoughts and guilt went on within a certain character’s head as it all went down. It was like Understanding Willow mashed with Agony of a Witch, if that makes sense- Terrifying reveals of sibling betrayal, and more Amity backstory and secrets of her hurting someone she cares about without wanting to, and being forced to lie about the thing by her parents and feeling like a terrible person for it.

Anyhow, RIP Aucus Blight, we hardly knew ye, except we kind of did? We only got brief, out-of-context glimpses that were messed-up because of different assumptions by the audience that led to us attributing it all to Amity’s character, but it turns out you were your own person who came and went, and nobody noticed; Which in itself is kind of chilling, like Aucus was a ghost of the series. Needless to say, the whole fanbase was losing their mind and re-analyzing scenes, wondering if Aucus had other appearances and/or allusions, and the whole thing kind of felt like a ghost story almost, a twist in a similar sense to The Fall of the House of Usher, and how THAT story revealed that the dead body that was buried, was actually alive; And after brief glimpses of that person, still-living beforehand, never quite interacting with the protagonist! And nobody suspected a thing, noticed the death or even existence… Until now. It all takes on a whole new, messed-up meaning that changes everything.

Like Lilith’s confession and the rest of Agony of a Witch, the whole thing felt like a nightmare; But thankfully, this time, that’s all it was.

#the owl house #toh #amity blight #luz noceda #aucus blight #one time i dreamt #dreams

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seiin-translations · 4 years ago

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2.43 S1 Chapter 3.5 - The Dog’s View and the Giraffe’s View

5. READY FOR SUMMER

You think Aoki reads shonen manga?

This is the end of the first half of the first season, a.k.a the first tankobon volume. I’ll be going on a short hiatus for a few week before coming back.

Stan Odacchi!

Previous || Index || Next

Thrusting a CalorieMate bar into his mouth and holding a sports drink in his hand, when he rushed to the washroom near the gym, he suddenly ran into Aoki. Aoki took one look at Oda’s face and widened his eyes for a moment, then cautioned him with a disgusted look on his face.

“You should stop it with that…in my opinion.”

“Can’t be helped. I didn’t have the time to eat lunch or go to the washroom.”

The CalorieMate had sucked up his saliva and was sticking to his mouth. He put the box that still had some left and the bottle on top of the urinal and lined up next to Aoki.

Immediately after serving as an assistant referee on the courtside, he immediately jumped into his own team’s match, served as an assistant referee again on the same court as soon as it was over, plus he had to keep an eye on the progress of the entire boys’ volleyball division, support the participants and instruct the other members… Needless to say, he didn’t have time to take a lunch break, and he wasn’t allowed to go to the washroom since morning. Still, Oda only had to watch the gym, but Aoki was frequently pulled back by runners from the executive committee’s tent on top of that. This was the first time he was able to make time to talk to Aoki face to face.

It was finally the day of the Seiin Ballgame Festival. Luckily, the last few days were breaks in the rainy season, and the event was held on a day that didn’t interfere with outdoor events. In fact, the weather was so favorable that the temperature has reached July-like levels, and the executive committee has been repeatedly urging people to be careful about heat stroke.

Boys’ volleyball had managed finish four of their six group games without incident on the stage side of the gym. According to gossip, from the first group Team C, led by Aoki, had two wins, and from the second group Team F, led by Oda, had two wins, so it had already been decided that they would clash in the finals. The remaining two games would be elimination games that didn’t make it past the preliminaries, whether they win or lose, but since points were added depending on the points won, the overall winner was still unknown.

“It’d be interesting if we train Okuma to be a center.”

Aoki said next to him as he relieved himself. As ever, Aoki’s shoulder was at the corner of his vision.

“Okuma’s on the rugby team, isn’t he?”

“Well, it’s just an idea. If we had a burly guy like that, we’d look a bit stronger, right? Suemori-san said boys’ volleyball is soft.”

“It’s all about looks?”

“It’s important to look scary, you know?”

Well, when he puts it that way, it’s true that even though Aoki is the tallest guy in school, he’s more “long” than “big,” so he doesn’t look all that burly. He’s a center whose traits are height and dexterity. Okuma’s likely to be a different type of center than Aoki though…

“Well, enough about Okuma. I want Haijima more.”

“You’re pretty fixated on Haijima.”

“What kind of guy wouldn’t fall in love with that play? You’ve seen him play two games, didn’t you?”

“I know he’s good, but that’s not enough. It’d be nice to have a character who can speak up and get the team going, but he’s the complete opposite of that. Your team isn’t attracting any amateurs, right? For events like these, it’s better to have a noisy guy like Okuma.”

“So you want Okuma more than Haijima? Aren’t you being pretty cold to him?”

He couldn’t help but sound grumpy. He understood Aoki’s objective point of view. However, he got angry when he was told things objectively.

“Hmm? No.”

Aoki’s voice was light, and his shoulders turned slightly towards him.

“I’m talking about the ballgame tournament. The captain of this team is you, and if that’s what you want, then I won’t object to it and cooperate with you. If you want, I can find Haijima’s weakness so he can’t refuse no matter what.”

“I don’t need that kind of shady business.”

When he glared at him sideways, his shoulders shook with laughter. “It’s a joke.” It’s scary because this guy actually does those things that seem like a joke.

“We don’t need Haijima’s weakness for him to join. The problem might be Kuroba. He’s doing well so far today, but I don’t know what’ll happen when he comes face to face with Haijima in the finals.”

“Just have them match up. A feud between freshmen would be all cleared up if they just punch each other once hard and tell each other their true thoughts, don’t you think?”

Aoki said carefreely while lightly shaking his hips up and down, then tucked his thing back in and left the urinal.

In the case of you and me, we missed our chance to go through the process of punching each other and saying our true thoughts, and now we’re here… Oda watched the tall silhouette disappear across the label of his plastic bottle with a look like he wanted to say something.

Even though he and Aoki had their disagreements, they always ended up sidestepping the issue instead of getting into a serious quarrel. Even though Aoki would attack others with a sharp tongue as much as he wanted if necessary, but when it came to Oda, he would take a step back. He didn’t have to retract his opinion if there was something about Haijima’s acquisition he didn’t like. I’m not such a tyrant that I won’t respect the opinion of the vice captain.

Oda still wasn’t convinced about how he was chosen as captain in the first place. Whenever Aoki gave him his due because he was the captain, it stimulated a deep sense of inferiority within him.

When the grade before them retired, Aoki was to be appointed as the next captain. He had a mild and calm personality, able to keep an eye on the whole team. He was the natural choice.

At the same time, Oda was advised to switch from attacker to libero. The introduction of the libero system had opened up a place for people with short statures to play an active role. They could only substitute with a back row player and couldn’t participate in the spikes and blocks in the front row, but a receive specialist was an essential position in modern volleyball. It wasn’t that the previous captain had any ill intent, but rather that he knew that Oda poured more passion into volleyball than anyone else.

However, right with that timing, Aoki jumped into the student council. As though he was purposely creating a situation where Oda was compelled to be the captain—he couldn’t hold an important position on the student council and be a team captain for club activities at the same time. That was why Aoki couldn’t take on the role of captain. And under the current rules, the libero couldn’t in effect be the captain. In other words, as long as Oda had no choice but to be captain, he couldn’t switch to libero. Oda truly felt humiliated at being stripped of the attacker position. Because Aoki had sensed that.

What’s with you? Was that pity for me, who never grew taller? Or was it the freedom of a tall guy? He was angry. However, he was unable to lay bare such ugly emotions in front of Aoki and in the end, it didn’t turn into a serious conflict at the time. The comfortable relationship that they had since they started high school had somehow created a wall instead, and there was an atmosphere where it would be too awkward to share their feelings at this point.

Although Aoki was his best friend and a trustworthy partner who was more easy to get on with than anyone, he also harbored a strangely twisted gloominess towards him.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

It was awkward, so he purposely waited for Aoki to leave the washroom before he did so himself, but he saw a tall and narrow back staying in the corridor in front of the gym. From the other direction, Suemori appeared and suddenly spoke in a reproaching tone.

“Oda-senpai, why were you taking your time in the washroom? Please don’t make me wait here.”

“I don’t remember telling you to wait…You could have given me a shout if there’s anything to take care of.”

“I don’t want to go near the boys’ washroom.”

Oda nonchalantly put his hand behind him, feeling that the food and drinks he brought out from the washroom were dirty. I’ve been slightly thinking this for a while, but I wonder if Suemori hates men. But she seems to be able to talk to Kanno normally.

“So, what’s up?”

“The old teacher collapsed.”

Aoki answered in place of Suemori.

“What!?”

The advisor for the boys’ volleyball team was an elderly teacher, just as Aoki called him. They’ve heard that he was rehired on a part-time basis once he reached retirement age. Apparently, he used to play volleyball when he was a student, but the form of the game of volleyball should be quite different between then and now. He was like a fossil from his generation.

The advisor had been the referee for the entire competition without a break since this morning. Even they, as active high school students, were likely to collapse from the hectic bustle, so it would be even harder on the elderly.

It seemed that he was feeling dizzy from the heat due to the temperature in the gym having risen. They said it wasn’t serious, but the referee’s chair was now vacant. There were still three matches left. Either Oda or Aoki should be the referee for the remaining two games in the group league, but the problem was the finals where C and F would encounter each other. Since the other positions also had the bare minimum amount of people in them, there were no extra hands.

“Well, I’ll do it.”

Aoki said without missing a beat.

“Aren’t you competing?”

“I don’t mind. From the start, I prioritized administration, so if there’s not enough people, I was going to pull out and head over there, but…ah, there’d be a problem with me refereeing a match with my own team.”

“You say that, but there’s no other way. I want to give Kanno a chance to be in a game, and there’s no reason to bother pulling Kuroba out. On the contrary, isn’t the balance better now that we have two experienced people on each team?”

“Even if it was still three on two, we won’t lose. It’s not that…it’s no fun if you’re not gonna be playing.”

He felt like he was the only one being childish and having a tantrum at a time when everyone had to back each other up, and his voice got quieter and quieter. He couldn’t bear knowing that Aoki and Suemori were exchanging worried-looking glances over his head. But he still didn’t like Aoki’s quick and easy way of splitting them up. Was I the only one who was looking forward to the match…?

“If that’s the case, let’s make it a little more interesting.”

Aoki proposed in a light tone. When he looked up with suspicion in his eyes, Aoki had a pensive look on his face with a faint smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. He looked like that when he was about to plot something.

“In other words, you’re saying it’s boring because you’re not in it. In the first place, you say ‘take’, but do you even have their approval…?”

“I’ll persuade Okuma. Of course that’s if C wins. If F wins, you’ll persuade Haijima. However, if you lose, you’ll have to give up on Haijima once and for all. —Kuroba!”

Aoki suddenly yelled. Kuroba, who had suddenly been poking his head in from the metal doors on the gym side of the corridor, made a “Mrp” sound and ducked his head.

“You and Nagato both don’t want Haijima to join, right? You were listening in on our conversation just now. Since it’s like that, crush them to bits. Treat this match like a real game.”

***

The chief referee for the finals was Aoki. The assistant referee, the point displayer, and two linesmen were all members of the team who weren’t playing in the game. The other two linesman and the ball retriever were help from the girls’ team, including Suemori.

It was past four o’clock in the afternoon, but heat was coming down the roof, which had been scorched by the midday sun, and accumulated indoors. The windless court wasn’t just completely covered in heat, but also some kind of strangely oppressive atmosphere.

As the team members took their positions around the court, they sensed a strange tension in the court that went beyond a mere school event, and their expressions tightened. Only Aoki had his usual relaxed expression, and he wondered what he was scheming. The way the already-tall Aoki stood on the referee’s stand and looked down at the court already somewhat made it a “tower.”

There were some spectators gathered along the walls and on the stage. The gallery installed on the second floor was also overflowing with students in sportswear. He thought that since it coincided with the futsal and softball finals, the spectators would be drawn to that, but it seemed that a surprisingly large number of people had come just to watch. Across the partition net, on the other side of the court, the girls’ basketball game was being held. The random bouncing of a ball other than a volleyball was jarring to his ears—he might be getting a bit nervous himself. He shrugged his shoulders up and down to release the extra energy. He was already sweating just by standing.

Team F got the serve through rock-paper-scissors. Haijima would serve from the right back row, and Oda would start diagonally from him at the front left. The opposing Team C’s starting order had Kanno at the front right and Kuroba in the back left. With two volleyball veterans placed diagonally from each other and sandwiching and supporting the amateurs, both teams had the most suitable formation.

Kuroba, getting ready to receive, kept pulling at his T-shirt and wiping the sweat off his face an unusual number of times. He wondered if it was just his imagination that the movement of his legs seemed heavy. Even though he was always jumping around on the court even when there was no need for it, now his feet were clinging to the floor. He’s pretty nervous. The fact that the crowd was much bigger than for the group league no doubt played a role.

What are we going to do for this game? He felt like it had become a farce starring the boys’ volleyball team, but of course he wasn’t going to lose on purpose. We’re going for the win. It was out of the question to give up on getting Haijima because of a single loss in a in-school match. If that was the case, he shouldn’t have taken this bet, but it was also out of the question for Oda to not buy a fight that had been sold to him.

He called Haijima, who was heading for the service zone, to a stop and he turned around and asked him something.

“It’s okay now, right?”

“Yeah. Do it with all your power.”

He heard the sound of the safety lock inside Haijima disengaging. In the previous two games, Haijima was banned from doing jump serves. It would no longer be a game against an amateur team if he did so, and someone were to get hit in the face, they risked injury.

“…Eleven months.”

Haijima muttered in a low voice, cast his gaze to a point on the other side of the net and narrowed his eyes.

“Did he get a little better?”

He smiled faintly. The depths of his eyes were boiling, as though he was even taking in this heat and transforming it into a part of the heat within him. Stimulated by that fighting spirit, Oda also felt his entire body trembling.

Just you watch… He glared at Aoki, but couldn’t meet his gaze with Aoki on the referee’s chair.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Haijima’s jump serve even drew the eyes of the first-timer spectators. He placed the ball in his left hand, stretched his arm directly before him and stood still. A beat of dignified silence that took the watcher’s breath away. The moment he tossed the ball up high with a spin towards the ceiling, there was a big “Ooh.”

From his graceful and refined form, as though he was dancing in the air, he let loose a sharp jump serve. Contrary to the slickness of his form, Haijima’s serve was quite unpleasant. It had a unique twisting spin, partly due to him hitting left-handed, and the one who was receiving was under immense pressure. Drawing a curving arc, it accurately aimed for the area Kuroba, who was positioned in the back row, was guarding. Kuroba, who didn’t say he was good at serve receives, managed to hit it with his arms with a panicked look on his face. Fortunately, it went up high, so his teammate went right below it and waited. Who was going to hit it?

Was Kuroba, who received it, going to hit it himself?

“Right court!”

He was astounded by the instruction that came from the referee’s chair.

Oi, wait a minute!? Is that even allowed!?

The ball was set to Kanno on the right court. Oda jumped to block in surprise, but Kanno dexterously shifted the core of the impact and changed it to a straight spike from the angle of a cross-court hit. Tch, he’s good… The spike that was as sharp as a needle went through a narrow course.

While landing, he turned his head to follow the whereabouts of the ball. He thought it might have been on the border of the sideline, but Nagato the linesman didn’t hesitate to indicate that it was in. The person who enthusiastically shouted “Yes!” from outside the court in place of Kanno, who had landed soundlessly, was…Suemori. I get the feeling that there’s a lot of officials that are emotionally attached to the opponent’s side, but…?

Team C’s first point was engraved.

“Oi, why is the referee giving out instructions?”

He snapped at the referee’s chair.

“If there are any objections, you can write them down on the record sheet later.”

Aoki said calmly, then quickly blew the whistle to prompt Team C to serve. There was no way they were going to prepare a record sheet used for official games for a ballgame tournament.

“Do it in one go, Haijima.”

He turned his back on the referee’s stand in indignation and said that aloud in order to calm himself down. However, Haijima only sullenly muttered, “You haven’t gotten any better at defense though,” and it seemed that he didn’t care about the noise around him or the subtle and complex actions of the staff members. The intensity of his concentration after entering the court was astonishing, but…he felt that he was slightly different from the previous two matches. Isn’t his mind too focused on one point?

At the end of where Haijima’s eyes were fixed on, Kuroba was, as ever, looking around restlessly while worrying about sweating profusely. The complete opposite of Haijima, his concentration was scattered. It was a face that screamed that Aoki’s implication was bad.

Team C, under Aoki’s instructions (which he still couldn’t wrap his mind around), had adopted the strategy of gathering the ball to Kanno. The scene where Kuroba hit didn’t return immediately, but even so, that scene came when it was 3-3 in the beginning, the rotation moved three at a time and Kuroba in the front right was directly facing Haijima in the front left over the net.

The first setting of this set came from Kanno to Kuroba.

At Haijima’s instructions, a triple block was set up. Oda in the back row prepared to back them up. “That’s a hell of a jump from that guy!?” The jumping power of Kuroba, who was high enough for his chest to comfortably show up over the net, made the crowd go wild. Completing the rotation of his shoulders by arching his whole body in midair, his body bent back and his arms swung out, as though releasing a nocked arrow. This dynamic spiking form, which could be called the splendor of volleyball, was the usual Kuroba, but…he’s not looking at the blockers at all. The ball didn’t pass over the net, getting caught on the white band and falling to Team C’s side.

Right when F-team took the lead with 4-3,

“Time out.”

The head referee requested a time-out.

Oi…I’ve never heard of this.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Why hasn’t he fixed that habit of his yet?”

Haijima turned on him as soon as they gathered courtside. Team C was making a circle around the tower that was Aoki. So why was the chief referee coming down from the referee’s stand and being on the bench of one team? After glaring at the other party who made his temple spasm, Oda turned back to Haijima.

“It already became solidified within him when he joined in April. There’s no problem in practice games, but he always gets like that when it’s a game with a lot of pressure, and to be honest, he’d be useless in an official match.”

For last year’s middle school prefecturals, Oda only went on the second day, so Kuroba, who apparently only participated on the first day, went unchecked. When he first joined the club, Oda was simply excited that an unexpected find had burst in. In fact, when he was used in the May practice match, he couldn’t find any problems. There was an inconsistent feeling to him, like he was developing, but his energetic play was pleasant to watch, and his strangely likeable character also helped to energize the whole team.

Although they haven’t acquired Haijima yet, he was confident that their attacker lineup was in good order with this, and then the prefectural tournament in the start of June—

The god of volleyball seemed to like secretly digging pitfalls.

An odd habit had begun to show up. He either failed his spikes entirely that got caught by the blocks and got himself out, or it got trapped by the net. It wasn’t like his form was messed up, but he couldn’t settle it. Even when he asked the person in question, he vaguely answered with a somewhat spaced-out expression, like his feet weren’t on the ground, that even he didn’t know why it was like that.

“…Why…”

Haijima grumbled, glaring at his feet with a gaze that could scorch through the floor.

“Stumbling over something like that…”

Haijima, that’s exactly how I feel about you, Oda thought. If you ask me, I’m jealous of the both of you, and just looking at you makes me irritated.

“Hey, we have to do something about him. It seems that it has something to do with Nagato and the second round of the middle school prefecturals?”

At this point, I should create a front that would make Haijima take a step closer to us, even forcibly. Thinking that, he tried inducing him.

“The middle school prefecturals…?”

Haijima raised his head and furrowed his brow.

“Sometimes players fail in their debut matches and suddenly fall to pieces.”

“They said it was my fault? But…”

His voice jumped up for an instant. He immediately closed his mouth sullenly and looked down again, fiddling with the taping on his fingers in front of his stomach. He thought of him as a player who didn’t have the habit of making other people read his mind, so that behavior was unexpected.

“What was I supposed to do…I was waiting, on that day…but, he was the one who didn’t come…”

He felt like the view before him was suddenly blocked by a thin, but hard, shell.

***

Even after the timeout, Kuroba’s play was lackluster. It would have been excusable if he had been blocked by the volleyball team members, but he was messing up because he was minding the blocker, who was an amateur ten centimeters shorter than him and just standing in front of him. Really, when he was good, he was great, but once his gears went out of whack, he quickly fell apart on his own. To be honest, he thought it was better for him to withdraw, but Aoki, Team C’s captain as well as the referee (this dual role was strange no matter how you look at it), didn’t seem like he was going to replace him.

He could see the frustration building up in even Haijima every time Kuroba made a mistake. Even so, the thing that differentiated Haijima from Kuroba was that his play never wavered, or rather, became frighteningly sharp. Not necessarily in a good sense, as he even covered his teammates’ minor mistakes all by himself and ended up excluding the amateurs. It felt like the sullen aura emanating from Haijima’s entire body made it seem as if the temperature on only their side of the court had dropped down a notch. It was out of the control of even Oda and he called to him less and less, and he thought that he could imagine the atmosphere in the second round of the prefectural tournament Nagato was talking about now.

His irritation towards the two who didn’t appreciate at all the value of the treasures that had been given them became stronger. If it were those two, there was no doubt that they would be able to stand at the forefront for the next ten or twenty years. Was it asking too much of freshmen to be less small-minded when they had such high physical potential? But, if he had those two’s potential, he definitely wouldn’t waste it. A super-ace who was trusted by his team for his solid decision-making ability as well as enlivening the team as a mental pillar…He knew that he couldn’t be that kind of player anymore, but he still dreamed to this day.

The fifteen-point system was shorter than he expected. When Haijima rotated from the back row to the front row and match-upped against Kuroba with the net between them again, they entered the final stage of the first set. Kuroba, obviously bending back, took a receiving stance like he was shrinking away from the net. While glaring at Kuroba’s disgraceful behavior with a gaze that could burn the net to ashes, it was perhaps at this moment that a circuit somewhere in Haijima’s mind snapped.

The serve was Oda’s. His thoughts were so focused on the two of them that his aim was a bit fuzzy, so the easy and half-hearted ball ended up falling right in the middle of the opponent’s court. He ran back to the court, fed up with himself as he thought that he might not be better than Kuroba today. That was when it happened.

“Hit the ball, Kuroba!”

Haijima shouted. His carrying voice suddenly pierced through the court where all talking had decreased, and everyone on his own team was startled.

As in the first round, the set flew from Kanno to Kuroba. Almost as if by spinal reflex, Kuroba suddenly did a run-up and leapt. Haijima blocked it perfectly.

However, this time as well, Kuroba’s spike didn’t even go over the net before it was blocked.

They both landed on the floor at the same time, the net between them. Right then,

“Stop screwing around!”

Haijima kicked the floor right after he yelled that, and then barged into the other court from under the net and tackled Kuroba. At this unbelievable situation, Oda froze in the receive stance, unable to move. It’s different for baseball game broadcasts, but I’ve never seen a brawl at a volleyball game, and I didn’t think he was the type to lose his temper like that!?

Everyone on his own team was dumbfounded, and everyone on the other team jumped out of the way, startled. After blowing Kuroba all the way to the center of the court, Haijima immediately went to straddle him and grabbed him up by the collar as Kuroba was hitting his back and coughing.

“Don’t run away! At least give one decent shot! If you’re this nervous for just a ballgame tournament, you’re not cut out for this, so just quit!”

He was yelling at him, looking like he was about to bite his nose off.

Kuroba’s back lifted off the floor.

“Hey…stop it, Haijima!”

Oda came to his senses and hurriedly passed under the net.

Right when he was about to pin Haijima’s arms behind his back, Kanno wedged himself in between them and said, “Senpai.” While keeping Oda back, Kanno looked at the referee’s stand. Oda widened his eyes and looked up at the stand, where he saw Aoki leaning against the top of the pole and grinning down at the two first-years on the floor.

“If they had just one big fist fight and told each other how they really felt…” Their conversation in the washroom flashed across his mind.

Hah!? No way, don’t tell me you were expecting this!?

Kuroba, who he thought was just going to let this happen, surprisingly grabbed Haijima’s wrist and yelled back.

“I’ve never been in a game where I had to lose successfully, and I don’t know how to do that, so of course I’m not cut out for this!”

“What are you talking about…”

Haijima was speechless. Kuroba, hesitating to say further, glared at Haijima at point-blank range as he moved his lips soundlessly. Then, he suddenly cast down his eyes, drew in his chin, and pressed his fist that was grabbing the front of Haijima’s chest to his forehead. It looked like a gesture of prayer.

“…’Cause, he said that you’d come back if we lost… Hey, isn’t this enough… Come back already…”

Come back already.

Those were words that Oda couldn’t think of or say in his position. They made him realize he didn’t need any pretense, and that all he needed was such clumsy, straightforward words.

Haijima, having lost his outlet for anger, just looked bewildered. His face, looking like those straightforward words didn’t penetrate his stubborn heart very well, made Oda irritated again.

“Hai…”

Right when he was about to interject, unable to keep quiet anymore,

Beep!

“Oh, you guys done yet? It looks like you guys pretty much said it all.”

A fake cough and Aoki’s voice, dampening the tension, came down from the referee’s stand.

“If that’s the case, the two of you, leave the court.”

He said, calmly holding up a red card.

“Fighting in volleyball is unheard of. And freshmen, don’t say that this is just a ballgame tournament, because this is a lively event that I worked myself to the bone to prepare for without sleeping. They really do need to pay me for this.”

***

After seeing the overall results at the administration tent with his own eyes, he returned to the gym. The gym, where the partition net was removed and cleanup had ended, was empty, but the net and poles still remained on only the stage-side court where the boys’ volleyball match had taken place. It was as if only the net wouldn’t admit that the match was over. The enthusiasm for the finals that had engulfed the court had now been cooled by the evening air, and he suddenly felt lonely.

There was a figure standing before the net. Like the net in front of them, it seemed like they still wanted to continue the match. Well, he was kicked off the court after doing one set, so I guess I can’t blame him for wanting to rampage more. The taping on his hands hanging down on the sides of his body still haven’t been undone yet.

“Haijima.”

Though his back reacted slightly to his call, he didn’t attempt to turn around. He goes at his own pace, eh. Oda smiled wryly as he approached him.

“They didn’t put the net away?”

“I asked them to leave it. I’ll put it away.”

Just like on the first day of team practice one week ago, Haijima lifted his chin and looked straight at the white band of the net. The sunlight shining through the window weakened and it dimmed considerably in the gym, but he could see a light in his eyes. A dazzling light that welled up within Haijima, as though he couldn’t contain his feelings of dissatisfaction.

“This wasn’t set up at 2.4?”

“Oh, we only raise it to 2.43 at the finals. ‘Cause it’s a game full of experienced players.”

With his hand on the net, stroking it sideways, Oda walked to the edge of the court and put his hand on the pole. Since the protective mat was removed, his palm touched the cold metal directly. The surface of the old bronze-colored pole was rough with copper rust stuck to it.

“We’re going to a family restaurant for the team’s afterparty, so meet us at the school gate at six-thirty. Don’t worry, us third-years are paying.”

“Please don’t count me in.”

He was given an annoyed reply. There are still not enough reasons? Oda sighed. Even though it’s so obvious that he’s longing to play volleyball, what exactly is holding him back? Is there something else besides the Monshiro Middle incident? This guy who’s fundamentally arrogant and seems to not care about other people’s feelings is clearly afraid that something is going to happen.

“You know, volleyball really is a sport that chooses people. Well, what you do in it depends on the person. It’s not a sport where you can carry the ball by yourself, and even if one person is skilled, you can’t win. I’ve told you this before. Remember it.”

“I got kicked in my ass.”

Since Haijima was pouting with a bitter look on his face, a laugh unintentionally slipped out of his mouth as he recalled it. He immediately stopped when Haijima was getting more and more sullen.

“There’s also the fact that the difference in our sizes frankly makes me cry. It’s a cruel story, isn’t it. No matter how hard a guy like me works, even if I think I won’t lose in athletic ability, skill, attitude, or anything, I just can’t beat a big guy in that one factor, height. Why did I fell for volleyball, of all things?”

Too many of the words people hurled at him came from his own mouth. When he explained it to people, they made doubtful faces and couldn’t sympathize with him very much, so these days he had learned to ignore that kind of talk. Aoki wouldn’t understand this much either. They might show their understanding for me, but they wouldn’t have any sympathy for me.

Haijima didn’t worry over his answer. He tilted his head, as though thinking,　This guy’s asking something weird, and stated it definitively. He said it like he was talking about the completely natural activities of living beings, like saying,　Don’t calves stand up after they’re born?

“Isn’t it because there’s nothing more interesting than volleyball?”

Aah…I knew it.

I had a feeling he’d say that. What’s for us, the very simple truth of the world.

I wanted words from someone other than me. I wanted someone to affirm to me that it’s okay for even someone like me to be devoted to something. If a man with much more talent than me, who possibly loves volleyball more than me, said that to me, then I can believe that the time I dedicated to volleyball was never a waste.

Is there anything in this world that is as interesting as this, that can make me as passionate as this? The exhilaration when you release a powerful spike. The feeling of solidarity when a brilliant combination play is executed. The sense of accomplishment when you persevere and break away a rally with your teammates. The feeling of conquest when you force the opponent’s ace to yield with a kill block. That intoxication, when your concentration is at its peak and the team’s hearts are one, and you can clearly see the ball’s trajectory as an unbroken line——

Something hot welled up in his throat, and he suddenly felt like crying. But, it was too early for that. He still hadn’t accomplished anything yet.

So he bared his teeth and smiled instead.

“That so? Well, for me, I love volleyball to death. It’s the only thing where I’m confident that I won’t lose to anyone.”

It was funny that Haijima countered with an extremely serious expression, “I won’t lose either.”

“…Haijima. To be honest, it was for my convenience that I wanted you to join. I’m a third year now. Even so, I want to play as many games on the court as possible, even if it’s just one game. Even if it’s just for a day…even just for a minute, just a second, I wanna play volleyball. Can I borrow your strength for that reason? All of your strength…”

Wouldn’t I get the opposite result with that way of talking? No, it’s fine. These words shouldn’t make Haijima build a wall around himself. He seems to be terribly stoic to me and everyone else, but he won’t reject someone who’s facing volleyball seriously. Ultimately, it wasn’t about whether you were skilled or not, or whether you were tall or short. Whether you are serious about volleyball or not—that was the only line Haijima drew.

That’s why there was no reason to hesitate to step in. I’m holding the key to the door.

He really felt like he was gripping a small key in his right hand. Of course, when he opened his palm, there was no key actually there. However, he turned to Haijima and held out his hand as though to show it to him.

“Won’t you believe in me, Haijima?”

Haijima was silent for a while, staring at Oda’s hand with downcast eyes. He loosened his tied lips.

“…Spring Inter-High.”

A whisper slipped from his mouth.

“…You’re serious about going there, I see. A weak team that has never won a proper game within the prefecture is aiming for it, thinking they can seriously go there. The 2.43 meter net is for that reason, I see.”

Those eyes with a sharpness that seemed to pierce through anything before them were directed towards Oda’s face. He was surprised that something he only mentioned briefly a week ago seemed to have remained in Haijima’s mind. However, he was also convinced that just showed how strong his feelings were. By all rights, he shouldn’t be the kind of athlete who was stuck smouldering in a place like this.

He wasn’t saying it in a way that was making fun of him. On the contrary, if he was the one who poked fun at him even slightly or was ambiguous in his answer, he would without a doubt slap his hand away on the spot.

Neither deception nor half-hearted seriousness was allowed in front of this guy.

“Yeah. Now, all the actors are in place. I seriously believe that this year’s Seiin will definitely become a team that can go to Nationals.”

Oda also looked back into Haijima’s eyes with a piercing gaze and answered.

If you take this hand, I will have to meet your expectations with all my power. I’ll repeat it again with force in order to convey that resolve. There’s no need for complicated reasons. I’m sure that only straightforward words would reach his heart.

“I want you to believe in me. Lend me all of your strength.”

***

“Why the hell are you smiling? Did Haijima say he was going to join?”

Aoki jeered at him when he stopped by the administration tent. Am I smiling? Oda wondered, patting his cheeks. He might be.

“Who knows. Well, he’ll be coming to the next practice, won’t he?”

“Hoo. Personally, I don’t like it, but well, that’s good I guess.”

Aoki said that in a twisted and unstraightforward way. Oda, while wondering in astonishment, Weren’t you the one who set this up?, dragged a free folding chair over and sat diagonally across from Aoki. He leaned over the long table, thrusted his face at him and lowered his face, as though it was an interrogation in a detective drama.

“So, from when and how much of it all was within your calculations? Since you brought up that betting match in front of Kuroba, right? Since you stirred me up by saying you were more interested in Okuma than Haijima? No way, you’re not gonna say you were the one who arranged for Haijima to be in volleyball, are you? I don’t think it’s possible, but does that mean the ballgame tournament itself is a huge charade…”

“I must be the world’s greatest swindler then. You’re giving me too much credit. Originally, I planned to have Team F win the championship, and I wanted to go to the lodging house on the refreshing highlands and getting Haijima while we’re at it…that was all I was thinking. Well, the dream of the highlands lodging house is completely gone now. I really did want to go there.”

All but one of the administration tents that were lined up with their eaves side by side in a corner of the first sports ground were dismantled, and the lower grade members of the executive committee were clearing away the steel frames and sheets while bickering noisily. All of their voices had a listlessness to them, like they had finished burning, and they didn’t sound grating to his ears. Rather, the noise soaked pleasantly into his tired body.

On the grounds, members of the baseball club were doing somersaults. The clock tower behind the back net displayed the time of 6:15. The brightness of the sky dimmed, and grey clouds started to appear. According to the forecast, apparently it was still going to be clear during the day, but the rainy season was going to return during the night. There was the scent of approaching rain. The warm wind, which contained moisture, made his arms and body sticky again after his sweat had finally receded.

The uncoated paper with the overall results for today was posted on the tent’s support. If he thought that there was more enthusiasm about this year’s championship than last year, there was apparently a secret prize that was going to be given to the supreme general of the winning team. The contributor was the executive committee—of course Aoki was the one who was holding the wallet. That prize was the group accommodation at a lodging house on a highland area in the prefecture for summer vacation. It was a form of taking advantage of the fact that the captains of the major sports clubs were spread out across each of the third year classes and stirring up the competition between each team.

In the boys’ volleyball division, Oda��s Team F defeated Team C to win the championship. The referee Aoki’s blatant support for Team C in the first half was camouflage, and after ejecting the two first-years, he devoted himself to making fair and impartial judgements in the second half—or that was how it seemed. Skillfully weaving in a few advantageous judgements for Team F, he manipulated the outcome. He’s a crook through and through…but since it’s a school event, I can just barely forgive him, but if he pulled this kind of thing somewhere else, I’ll be done with him.

However, they didn’t perform so well in the other events, and in the end, Team F had to settle for second place overall. The guesthouse on the highlands was to be given over to another club.

“Aaah, I guess we’ll have to do it at school this summer too. It’ll be harsh without air conditioning though.”

“You know, you’re pretty practical even though you don’t look it…”

“Dunno what you mean by not looking practical, but I’ll accept the compliment. Well, the things you can get with cheap tricks aren’t that important, and there are plenty of things you can’t get...” a loud yawn slipped out from his wide mouth.

“Are you going to the after party? The first and second-years worked hard today, so we gotta thank them.”

“Sorry, but I’ll have to pass. I don’t mind splitting the money in half. I didn’t sleep for three days to finish up preparations.”

“Three days? And yet you managed to get in two games.”

“It’d be tough to do three games. When the old teacher collapsed, I thought in my head, ‘I’m saved.’”

He leaned back deeply on his folding chair, causing it to creak, and when he bent his neck and tilted it left and right, there was a cracking sound. Though he wondered if it was okay to speak that way about an elderly person, it seemed that after he rested in the infirmary for nearly an hour, he had readily recovered and went along with the teachers to their after-party, so perhaps it was okay for Aoki to say that, considering all his toil.

During this ball game tournament, which included preparations, while Oda was just saying he wanted Haijima like a spoiled brat, just how hard was Aoki working, even using his influence, for the sake of the whole team? When it came to Haijima, even though he wasn’t supposed to have agreed to it, he considered Oda’s feelings and took action like it was a matter of course. It had completely slipped from his mind, but it was time to think about summer training camps.

Since they knocked on the door of the boys’ volleyball club in April two years ago, he had helped him one-sidedly until now. The prodigy who had student council duties, and who on top of that could get accepted to Kyoto University, probably had any number of things he could do besides volleyball, unlike Oda. He felt a deep sense of guilt that because he invited him that day—because they were “Aoki” and “Oda”, an unexpected intrusion ended up coming into Aoki’s life.

“Ah, hey…thanks for everything…”

It was too embarrassing to say it now after two years, and he couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was grateful for the gap between their lines of sight right then. Every time he was covered for, it only deepened his own sense of inferiority, and he had never thanked him face-to-face until now.

Good grief, it’s not just my outside, I’m also tiny and worthless on the inside.

“But, sorry…you’re going to have to go along with my selfishness for just a little longer.”

His debt would increase even more in the future. It seemed that Aoki won’t be able to concentrate on his exams for a while yet.

“…That’s just like you.”

Aoki mumbled to himself, his head still turned away. From Oda’s position, he could only see his chin moving slightly, and he had no idea what expression he had on his face.

“You’re giving me too much credit. I’m feeling guilty now. Playing volleyball with you is what I want to do right now, and I’m not doing it unwillingly. I don’t need to be thanked at all. I’ve been saying this since before, but me not liking Haijima is completely my personal feelings, and I’m the one who’s just being selfish. I don’t really care about going to university or not, and I don’t mind if you want me to lower my rank so we can go to the same place…I’m basically just driven by my ulterior motives.”

“Ulterior motives?”

There was the sound of water drops hitting the roof of the tent. The people working outside the tent looked up at the sky and exclaimed, “It’s starting to rain?”

“…You don’t have to understand.”

Aoki raised his head slowly, like a giraffe stretching its neck to find leaves that were just right, and stifled another yawn. Then, he turned towards him and lifted the edge of his mouth.

“Let’s go to Spring Inter-High. I’ll follow you until the end.”

For Oda, that thin, ironic smile was more reliable and trustworthy than anything.

The prefectural preliminaries would start at the end of September, two months later. If they won there, his retirement would be extended until the final representative deciding match in November. And if they managed to win the representative deciding match, then it would be until the nationals in January——. Just one game more. Just a day, a minute, a second longer. In order to delay the “end” just a little bit longer, they third-years would clumsily make every effort with all their ability.

When the rainy season ended, their final summer would arrive. There was no doubt that that summer would be like a condensed version of the rest of their lives after graduation. His doubts about his career path cleared up. He would put all he had into everything he could do and wanted to do right now. He didn’t care if the next few decades would be the rest of his life. Even if he burned out here and had nothing left within him, he wouldn’t regret it now.

Previous || Index || Next

#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation #2.43: seiin high school boys volleyball club #2.43

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lunesuga · 5 years ago

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To Be Loved

pairing ⟶ min yoongi x reader

summary ⟶ You’ve always thought that your college roommate Min Yoongi hated you. Turns out, he’s madly in love with you.

genre ⟶ fluff and slight (?) angst

rating ⟶ G

warnings ⟶ none

word count ⟶ 1,265

You huff as you carry some boxes up the stairs. Today, you’re starting a new chapter of your life at your dream college. You should be happy since you were able to transfer so easily but if you were going to be honest with yourself: you were scared. What if people were mean to you? What if your classes were really hard???

“Get a grip y/n, it won’t be as scary as you think.” you mutter to yourself. Soon, you reach your dorm room. “207, yep that’s me…”

You put down the boxes and open the door. Unexpectedly, you’re greeted by a frustrated man. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you pick up the heavy boxes and set them on the empty bed. You turn to the man. “Uh...can I help you?” You ask.

The man looks up, a bit startled. You couldn’t lie to yourself - he was really attractive. He has auburn hair that was slightly disheveled and soft brown eyes. He was a bit taller than you and you could tell that he had some muscles. “Excuse me?” He questions, tilting his head to the side. God, even his voice was attractive-

You clear your throat. “Stop thirsting over the stranger.” You tell yourself. “Um...you’re kinda in my room.” He laughs, his shoulders bouncing slightly. “Oh yeah, I think you mean OUR room.”

WHAT?

This has to be a mistake...you can’t share a room with him. Wasn’t your roommate supposed to be a girl?

“Listen...I’m supposed to have a FEMALE roommate and I’m pretty sure you’re a guy.” You explain to him. He rolls his eyes, sitting on the bed across from you. “Nope, I was assigned to this room. Sorry if you were expecting someone different.” He says, his tone clearly laced with annoyance. You shake your head, realizing you might’ve offended him. “Oh no I’m sorry I just … I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He stares at you blankly, reaching into his pocket. “Whatever. Anyway, here’s my information since you clearly don’t believe me.” He gets up, placing a long piece of paper beside you. Before you can protest that you believe him, he leaves the room. “Well that was weird…” You think. You glance at the paper he placed and pick it up.

Yoongi Min

3rd year student

Greyson Hall, Room 207

Yoongi….

This was gonna be a fascinating year.

The first few weeks go by quickly. You manage to get some words out of your roommate Yoongi, but he seemed like a brick wall. Thankfully you made some new friends, Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin. Both boys have been friends since preschool, which you found absolutely endearing. Although they’ve known each other that long, they never made you feel left out.

Fall term was almost midway through, which meant midterm season was approaching. You, Taehyung and Jimin were at the cafe on campus studying, all three of you needing a great spot where caffeine was near. You groaned in frustration as you tried to figure out a statistics problem. “I don’t get this at all.” You exclaim, resting your head on the table. “Ah c’mon y/n, you’ll get it! It just takes time and practice.” Jimin reassured you. “Dude the midterm is in 3 days, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to do well.” You told him, taking a sip of your cappuccino. Taehyung set his pencil down after drawing furiously for a solid half hour.

“Why’d you take stats in the first place?” He asks. “Because I need it for my degree unfortunately…” You sigh. “Isn’t Yoongi taking stats too? Ask him for help.” suggests Jimin. You shake your head, not even wanting to talk to your roommate. “No way, honestly I think he hates me.” Jimin laughs, taking a sip from his drink. “Nah, I highly doubt he hates you.” “What makes you so sure? He barely talks to me.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“Is that such a bad thing?” You hear someone behind you say. You jump, turning around. Yoongi is standing there, a coffee in his hand with an unreadable expression on his face. “Oh, uh, hi Yoongi.” You stammer, your cheeks reddening in embarrassment. Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look. “Uh, we’ll catch up with you later y/n. Nice seeing ya Yoongi.” Taehyung says as the two boys collect their things. “You guys don’t have to go-” You start, but they’re already making their way outside.

Yoongi sits down across from you. “So you were talking about me huh?” You look down, feeling guilty about talking about him behind his back. “Yes...I’m so sorry I didn’t mean t-” He holds up his hand, offering you a small smile. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I should be the one apologizing anyway. I haven’t been really open to you since we met and that’s on me.” He explains, playing with the lid on his coffee cup. “It’s okay, but y’know I was planning on watching a movie tonight, do you wanna join in?” You asked, assuming he’d say no. To your surprise, his lips curled upward into a bright gummy smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

That evening, you and Yoongi decide to stay in your dorm and watch a movie. Since you both wanted to save money, it was cheaper to rent a movie over going to the theatre. You picked the movie while Yoongi went to the convenience store to buy snacks. You smiled to yourself as you grabbed some extra pillows from your closet. Maybe you and Yoongi could finally make some progress and become friends.

As you waited for Yoongi to return, you scrolled through social media. Soon enough, you heard the door open. “Hey, I’m back.” Yoongi announces, placing the few bags of food on his bed. You smiled. “Hey, what took you so long?” “Ah, I went to grab some Chinese food for us as well, I hope you don’t mind.” You gasped, grabbing one of the bags from him. “No way, I LOVE Chinese food.” You exclaimed, opening up one of the containers. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, what movie did you pick out?” You grinned. “Oh you’ll love it, it’s a surprise though.”

You settle next to Yoongi as you click play. The film starts and Yoongi groans. “Seriously?! The Notebook?” He stares at you, raising his eyebrows. “Oh c’mon it’s a classic! Give it a chance.” He sighs. “Fine…”

Halfway through the movie, you start to get sleepy. Yoongi notices and wraps a blanket around you. You smile sleepily at him. “Thanks Yoongs…” You murmur, closing your eyes. “No problem.” He whispers.

As the movie finishes, you decide to take a small nap. “Hey Yoongi, I’m gonna take a nap, do you need any help?” You ask, not wanting to leave him to clean up by himself. “Nah it’s okay, you get some rest and I’ll clean up.” “Are you sure-” “Y/n, it’s alright. I don’t mind.” He reassures you, smiling. You hesitate but oblige. “Okay then, if you insist…”

You settle into bed, the soft sounds of Yoongi cleaning up giving you some comfort. As you’re about to sleep, you hear Yoongi whisper “By the way y/n, I know you’re sleeping but...I don’t hate you. Actually, I’m in love with you if I’m going to be honest...I was scared to tell you, but God I’m in love with you.”Your heart skips a beat and you smile to yourself, sleep taking over.

I’m in love with you too, Min Yoongi. A whole lot.

A/N: This is from a submission I received a couple of days ago! If anyone wants a part two then feel free to leave a comment or message me. I hope you all enjoyed it. <3

#min yoongi #bts #suga #BTS suga #bts fluff #bts one shot #park jimin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #jeon jeongguk #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi aesthetic #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader

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helihi · 5 years ago

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The Good, The Bad, and the Dirty: RWBY Vol 7 Ep 4

Thank you for renewing your Punch Jacques Club Membership, I cannot confirm or deny that you’ll accomplish your goal this season, but we’re family.

Overall rating of the chapter: 7.5/10

*Spoilers Ahead*

The Good

To start off this chapter, we learn more about the true dynamics of the Ace Ops and, more importantly, about Atlas Academy. At Beacon, teams are chosen by interactions and collaborative efforts during a recorded test. Ozpin chose teams based on trust, leadership skills, and bonds. In Atlas, teams are chosen based on effectiveness. The students are not viewed as people or individuals, they are viewed as numbers.

In the previous episodes, there were a couple of things that didn’t quite sit well with me: Harriet’s original comment to Ruby regarding her Semblance felt more mean than playful, and the fact that Marrow was everyone’s punching bag. At first, you might think that this is just playful banter between friends, like Yang and Ruby referring to Jaune as Vomit Boy from time to time, however, that’s not true. Since Harriet declares that they are not friends, you may realize that they are not “picking on Marrow”, they are actively bullying him. There’s no complements thrown his way, there are no mutual laughter or apologies, it’s just drag after drag after drag.

I have the slight feeling that Marrow might consider them his friends, and that’s why he’s letting the comments slide. We should also consider that he is the only Faunus in the team, and although I believe their comments don’t come from a source of casual racism, but rather at pointing out the fact that he’s the most childish of them all, we should pin that for now.

I get Harriet, there’s a difference between co-workers and friends. Though some times you may befriend your co-workers, playful banter and after office outings don’t translate to friendship. I say this as someone who has worked for a big company. There were coworkers I genuinely befriended, and other who I was friendly after office hours, but never hung out with outside work parties or outings.

That being said, I find it hard that you wouldn’t bond with those whose life you’ve saved before, the same who’ve saved yours. Interestingly, when Yang inquires about this and gets dismissed by Harriet, you can see the way Blake reacts in the background. Have we bonded over trauma? Is that all that this is?

Let me be clear: people can bond over trauma, but at the same time, going through a lot of things with a person can show you sides of them you never noticed before, you see them in a different light. That being said, Team RWBY’s enemies haven’t been random people: Cinder killed Pyrrha, their friend; Emerald was someone they trusted; Mercury framed Yang in front of Remnant; Adam was Blake’s abusive ex and his goal to destroy Blake and Yang was personal. During the arcs these characters have gone through, they have grown as people as they faced death, obviously they are going to bond.

This may have been pure coincidence, but it’s interesting that an anti-bee section of the FNDM posed the idea that Yang and Blake’s relationship is based on mutual trauma. This claim is ridiculous because both of them cared about each other before the Fall of Beacon. The traumatic event made their relationship take a turn, and realize some things that they didn’t notice before or made things clearer for them. (On a side note, Asami realized she had feelings for Korra when she thought the avatar was going to die at the end of book 3). Sometimes certain situations change your perspective about things and people.

I want to note that Nora’s comedic relief landed perfectly, and Jaune’s sass was on point. Once again James is presented as someone trouble seeking the best outcome through the wrong means. That being said, Tyrian and Watts plan seem to be to overthrow him and generate chaos through political manipulation, and as someone who comes from a country with high levels of corruptions and suspicious murders, this is true real. Also, don’t think James is a good poor guy trying to be his best. He’s actively choosing one portion of the kingdom over the other and dooming certain populations.

Next stop is Jacques “Scumbag” Schnee making his first appearance in the volume. TBH it was about time. Given how the opening frames him, he had to show up soon. Just like I expected the moment he started bickering with Ironwood, he turned around and will now help Watts. At first, Jacques might have had power over Ironwood, but now he doesn’t, at least until he get his seat at “The Council”, which I’m expecting him to win.

As someone with an abusive parent, Jacques’s mannerisms make sense. The shift from his violent approach to a more manipulative one are common abusive tactics of an abusive person when in public or when their victim stands up to them. My parent used to be more physically abusive when I was a child, but when I grew taller and stronger, they switched to a psychological one since I could defend myself. In this case, Jacques was super close to striking Weiss again, but stopped the moment one of her true dads stepped in (Ironwood).

Jacques using Willow to guilt trip Weiss was dirty and awful, and once again adds on to my theory that she might be the Winter maiden. Thankfully, like Ruby promised, Team RBY is right beside her.

Blake is ready to kill him, and Yang is processing how awful the man is. Ruby is utterly confused at his attitude. Following this, we find that Winter was siting for him to leave before showing up. She looks around to confirm that he’s no longer there, and Weiss points out “Winter, it’s nice for you to finally show up”. Just like I've talked about before, while Weiss got out of the abusive environment and found a real family (Team RWBY), Winter escaped Jacques by joining the military. James Ironwood is only missing one Schnee child to adopt, and we’ll get to that soon enough.

All our kids are now huntsmen! Congrats! Just like they say, the licenses feel hollow after all they’ve been through, and TBH I agree. It also shows progress for the characters, specially Yang who had the most superficial goal out of the 4 Team RWBY members. Regardless of that, it’s nice to see the goof around, take pics, and eat cake. Something I thought it was adorable is how Winter interacts with Penny: she’s so caring and nice. I love them.

We got a really good moment between Ruby and Qrow, and some background on Summer. The DC comics have helped us understand Summer a little bit ore, but this confirms that she was a brat (hell ye). Apparently, her last mission was a “Summer mission”. I really need those Team STRQ flashbacks. I bet Raven know more than we think.

I also think it’s important that Qrow pointed out how Ruby is not Oz since she doesn’t keep the secret to herself. I think certain conditions should be met to be open about Salems existence, especially considering current circumstances.

Jaune offering to protect little children is the most Jaune thing ever, never change boy.

Lastly, Watts finds an ally: the douchbag who married into the Schnee name. That small interaction with Whitley and Jacques might be a small sign of foreshadowing him having a reception arc. His father doesn’t trust him to invite his heir into the meeting, and he treats his son rudely. Whitley looks genuinely dejected.

Watts faked his death, that might be an indication why Ironwood doesn’t have a clear suspect yet. Now, he’s part of the Asshole Mustache club.

Anyways, next episode it looks like we’re going to meet Robyn. The sheep faunus and the tattooed guy next to her might have been part of her team.

The Bad

Those quick animations for cheap comedic effect have started getting kinda annoying. I wish they didn’t overuse them ass much.

The Dirty

Where’s Klein.

Final Rating: 7.5/10. Good, but not above expectations.

A.N.: Alost 18 mins, keeping up with the consistent episode length, congrats!

#RWBY #the good the bad and the dirty #Me #Review #RWBY7 #Rwby spoilers

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modestlyabsurd · 5 years ago

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Humble Beginnings (Loki x Reader)

Being taller than most, it's a different view. Physically looking down at people varies a bit from doing so in a smug manner. Especially when the mind is now absorbing things in a new way; or at least, it's attempting to.

The people all look different from each other, and yet similar at the same time. Suppose that could be just because it's only an assessment from a few seconds observation of each individual. The loud, overestimulating environment doesn't help either. The propogandic billboards, buses with advertisements obnoxiously splattered across them, and speaking of obnoxious.

These humans and their phones.

It's clear, some of the differences. No skin tone is exactly the same. Hair tends to vary nearly as much, ranging from long to short to naught, from straight to curly, in any color imaginable. Part lines in scalps are fascinating. The curvature of noses is also quite interesting from such a perspective. But one thing seems to remain the same, and that is the amount of hands holding cellphones.

It's unnerving.

To think that the idea of being ruled was so outlandish, all whilst they are unknowingly being ruled already - by something far less benevolent than me.

His thoughts go to that dark place for a split second. He spares himself a smirk, before remembering. That was wrong of him.

He regrets it. And not just because "that's what the doctor said", but genuinely. If Loki could go back in time and pull some strings, he would undo many of his actions. But the doctor also reminds him regularly that he was not himself at that time. That he was mind controlled, which bothers him even more. How weak he must have been to have fallen under such influence.

But that is in the past, and cannot be changed. However he has control over himself now; he can change the present as well as the future.

As much as he damn well hates to admit it, the therapy is working.

Assigned by Stark himself, Loki's therapist has now given him more freedoms on Earth - at the cost of his progress, of course. Apparently he's been doing exceptionally well, since he's now allowed to walk and roam the streets of New York City unsupervised.

(For two hours a day, in a nine block radius, with all six Avengers ready if he were to pull anything suspicious.)

So far he's gone and snuck in to see a film in the movie theater once - a strange animation revolving around talking fish who are prone to misplacing one another - he's browsed the two bookstores within the radius, conjured roses and left them for street performers playing their music, and spent a great deal of time in a particular coffee shop.

... It's been nicer than he thought it would be.

Even now, as men and women who are on important phone calls or simply aren't paying attention carelessly collide into him, he's enjoying himself. The weather is beginning to chill more and more each day, and on this young evening the sky is a cloudy silver. He's been hoping for a storm.

His feet are carrying him down a certain sidewalk. Confident, secure steps. He fiddles with the pocket watch in his warm, faux leather jacket pocket. Embossed in the cover is the letter S, for Stark Industries. Embedded in the gears is a tracking device. Understandable, he admits, running his thumb over the watch. He knows himself better than anyone. Which isn't saying much.

Attaining that elusive balance is the most difficult for Loki. The balance within only him, of self-trust, and the lack of such. Most beings have moral compasses which guide them in the right direction through life. Loki's decided that he has a moral pendulum that swings wherever the wind blows it. A weakness, without question, that will be his downfall one day.

"Unless you become the wind."

He'd argued that with the doctor. Things never go exactly as you plan them. Life's wind tends to blow a bit harder.

"Then you become a rock, a boulder, a shield to your pendulum. Unmovable against the wind."

Easier said than done. But doable nonetheless, he supposed.

His ever-descending thoughts are interrupted by the rich, seductive smell of coffee. He can suddenly feel his heart beating as he sees the caramel brown walls through large storefront windows. The view gets larger and he sees the charming wall artwork of a cappuccino with intricate designs in the cream. He thumbs the pocket watch.

A customer hurries through the door, a warm drink in hand, leaving the coffee shop empty. He clicks the silver watch open. 7:42. It's nearing closing time for the shop.

Hidden behind the neon "open" sign, he steps along the sidewalk, peering in from the darkening cold outside. And there you are.

His heart races - it practically soars.

Wiping down the countertops and tabletops, erasing the daily specials from the chalkboards, sweeping strands of hair out of your face along the way. Focused. Hard-working ... yet elegant. Beautiful.

You're headed toward the back of the shop and when Loki loses sight of you, he swallows down his nerves and strides in.

The charming little entrance bell resurfaces his unexplainable anxiety. It was loud and it got your attention. He had to think fast. But no matter - he had a plan of action ready long before, thanks to a close connection. A friend, perhaps.

Loki's jaw drops briefly as you reappear behind the sales counter, but he smoothly recovers with a Cheshire smile, "Hello Y/N."

You're re-tying the brown apron around your waist when his voice suddenly catches you very off guard. "Hi," you all but sputter.

Oh goodness, you scold yourself. If only you could somehow prepare for Loki's visits in advance. He drops in at the most inconvenient times as far as your appearance goes - you'd like to not have flour all over you, coffee stains on your clothes, and maybe do something more with your hair. But with Loki ... you'll take whatever you can get. Especially since you can't seem to form a complete sentence when he's around anyway.

He has eyes that could take you on an infinite trip throughout the entire universe. And he tends to keep steady eye contact. It's intense. It makes you physically squirm.

Much like now, when you suddenly notice how nice he looks tonight. You wished there was somewhere to divert your attention such as other customers, but it's almost eight. No one wants coffee at this time.

Except for Loki, who has his full attention on you. A dark pink dusting his smiling cheeks.

"What're you doing here?" you found a voice. "It's getting late."

You begin clearing out what's left of the muffins and cookies from the display case directly beside the sales counter, pulling each one out and placing them in a container. Loki watches your movements as well as your face, desperate for a longer look into your eyes.

"Well," he chuckles nervously, "I was just heading back from seeing another film in the cinema - I can't remember the title at the moment ... Something about a lowly peasant who discovers a strange genie and together they must save a princess and her kingdom, while the peasant subsequently wins the princess's heart in the process."

You suppress a smile. "Aladdin?"

"Yes! That's it. I quite enjoyed it, really. Although the genie and his, eh ... sense of humor took a bit of time to tolerate. I think having someone accompanying me to interpret it would've perhaps made it easier."

You've yet to stop cleaning since he came in. This is harder than he expected.

Collecting himself, he steadily asks, "Is the kitchen still open for service?"

You glance at the clock on the wall, with a quintessential coffee cup in the middle of it. "For the next fifteen minutes, yes. What can I get for you?"

Before he can get a still glimpse of you for more than a second, you're heading for the kitchen. The sound of running water indicates that you're washing your hands.

Left to himself, he speaks over the sound toward the kitchen, "Would a couple of cookies and a hot chocolate be too much?"

"Absolutely not," you bubbled back.

A familiar song plays softly throughout the coffee shop as Loki notices. He's heard it before, the man singing with poetic but very, very Midgardian lyrics, accompanied by almost lullaby-like music. And then he hears another voice singing the words - only it's not reverberating through the speakers but humming gently from your mouth.

Loki finds himself watching you once again. You pour thick, steaming hot chocolate into a cup with careful hands, while singing this lovely tune playing. He's mesmerized. Confused, definitely, as to why he's so mesmerized. And why he's been mesmerized ever since he first saw you and learned your name. Why he cares so much about you, why he longs to see you when he's not around. Even if only in small-talking, short lived increments.

"Must be something in the drinks."

"Hm?" you stop singing suddenly.

Loki nearly implodes. Thankfully he's a quick thinker.

"I was just trying to remember - what is this song that's playing?"

"It's called Scar Tissue by The Red Hot Chili Peppers."

He'll remember that.

"Ah. Thank you, I - " he laughs, "the names of certain things have been eluding me as of late. For a moment I thought it could be something in these drinks of yours."

You grin. You grin!

Loki's mouth goes dry. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate after you set it on the counter for him, unable to look away from you.

The taste of chocolate coats his mouth, the smell fills his nose. You glance up at him with that grin - for a split second - before turning away. Gods, he thinks. How beautiful you are.

"It's probably just the time change," he changes the subject. Fills the silence. "I've read that the changing of the seasons can largely affect many aspects of one's everyday life. Like their sleeping patterns, their cravings, their memory. I've read that some can even react to the change in temperature, as well, did you know that?"

You shake your head, wrapping the last two chocolate chip cookies of the night in some wax paper and placing it on the counter.

"Y'know, the nights seem to have gotten darker as well. I could walk you home if you'd like."

You pause involuntarily. How can the mere idea of something make your heart skip ten beats? Shouldn't that kill you?

"No," you declined, "that's okay. I appreciate it."

"Yeah. Anytime."

Loki's watch vibrates in his pocket. He reaches for it, discreetly disabling the alarm that told him it was eight o'clock. Exactly two hours since he left the compound, giving him exactly ten minutes to arrive back before a small army tracks and descends upon him.

A deflated balloon comes to mind.

"Well," he replaces his watch, "at least be sure that you use precaution out there. It's cold, and dark, and the perfect time for monsters to be out."

You nod. A piece of hair falls into your face and Loki has the strong urge to brush it behind your ear. So strong that his fingers twitch.

He picks up his cookie and hot chocolate to fix the problem when he remembers a key part of the transaction - the actual transaction. "Oh! I need to purchase this - "

"Don't worry about it. It's on the house."

He freezes mid-search for some money in his pocket. You're looking him straight in the eye with pure ... purity. He takes you in, drinks you up. Your voice, the apples of your cheeks, your smallness compared to him. Tingles spread throughout his chest and he learns that that is one of the most pleasant sensations he's ever felt.

"That's very kind. In that case ... " he pushes one of the untouched cookies still on the counter toward you.

You look down at his thin, pale hand.

"For you."

A premature scolding lodges in your throat as he's heading out the door. But before he exits into the autumn cold, he turns on his heel and smiles at you. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Loki."

tag list: @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum

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burlesque-articulation · 4 years ago

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Opening Note: Okay, so I’ve decided that for PeterMartin week, I’m going to write a sort of… short series in a chronological order, where for each day it’s going to follow the rough timeline that takes place in the 6 months after the Unknowing, before the start of season 4. As the days/story progresses, so while the odd relationship between Martin & Peter, because I think that’ll be fun. Plus I’ve already locked myself in on this setup, so there’s really no turning back for me. So! Without further ado…

PeterMartin Week Day One: Lighthouse // Concealment | 4.1k

It had been weeks now, since the Unknowing, that is. And Martin had found himself in a bit of a weird spot, unsure of how he was meant to carry on-- or really, if he even could. But he did know that he couldn’t continue sulking around the archives, or bumming about Jon’s hospital bed waiting for everything to just magically be okay. Yet it also wasn’t like there was much for him to do. It wasn’t like he could quit and run away. Though he doubted he would be able to do either of those things even if they were a possibility. So instead, he settled back into what he knew.

Taking, and researching, statements.

The current statement in question, had come in from someone by the name of Castor Wick, and it had led Martin some couple of hours away from London to just outside of Norwich, along the shore somewhere between Mundesley and Walcott. And that was where he found it. A small, out of the way, and rather out of place, lighthouse. There were no mentions of it on any travel guide or roadmaps, and quite frankly, he wasn’t sure it was even supposed to be real. A few kilometres to the south there was one in Happisburgh anyways, and some authority or other had already tried to get that one deactivated or something a while back. Or at least he’d read something like that on the long trip out this way.

Regardless, he was there now, standing not too far from the thing, and by all accounts, it did look pretty abandoned and rundown. Though it didn’t look like the weather had torn any of the railings off the top sections, or blown any holes in the siding; it was definitely a few decades off from being “new”. But his “source”, so to speak, relayed as much. The statement giver had grown up around this area, and according to them, the lighthouse had always been this curious oddity to themself, and their childhood friends, and so about a month ago, now that the friends had all grown up, apparently they’d all also found the gumption to break into the old place and have a peek around.

And naturally that’s when things had gotten “weird”, as the statement giver had so eloquently put it.

But, with any luck, the statement was a hoax, and Martin wouldn’t have any troubles. After all, he’d already promised himself that if the front door to the Lighthouse didn’t budge, then he was no longer obligated to do any further research into the described phenomenon that had occurred here about a month previous. After all, it wasn’t like he had a disgruntled boss back at the office that would berate him for not doing the utmost possible. And now, somehow that thought depressed him to think it.

So he stopped thinking about it, swallowing it down and concealing it in the back of his mind as he approached the lighthouse before him. The closer he got the taller it seemed to get, and was almost picturesquely wrapped in smokey tendrils of mist coming off the water. The more he regarded the building before him, the more it resembled something out of an eerie postcard. Which figured, honestly. And as luck would have it, when he reached what had to be the front door of the place, the knob was cold against his hand and turned easily, creaking slightly as it swung open. Even still, Martin proceeded with caution, looking over his shoulder, and along both sides of the empty beach. Upon seeing no one, he steeled himself, and entered the Lighthouse. And was immediately greeted by another door.

Standing in the small entrance way, Martin allowed the first door to close quietly behind him before trying the next door, once again finding that one unlocked as well. But unlike the first, this one opened without a sound, as if the hinges had been newly polished or something, and the age of the building from outside hadn’t yet reached the inside. As Martin stepped through the second door, he was entirely put off guard by how well-preserved the place appeared. Not a speck of dust on any of the surfaces or floor; the paint looking fresh, as if it had just gotten a new coat no more than a few days ago. There was still a musty smell in the air though, like that of an old basement, or attic, even. A place few feet ever tread, and with each step further in to the main room, the floor creaked and groaned, unable to pretend to be anything other than old and worn, despite the look of it all.

Towards the back of the main floor, he could make out a short of old kitchen area with a wood stove that seemed to branch off into what he assumed would be living quarters, but he couldn’t actually bring himself to step further in that direction; instead casting his gaze to the side and up, following the spiral metal staircase that led up towards the top of the Lighthouse. The whole building felt off, and empty in a way that something as small as it was shan’t have. “I think I hate this place.” He muttered to himself.

"Then what brings you here?"

The voice coming from beside him made him jump almost entirely out of his skin as he slammed a hand against his chest and stumbled away from a person he certainly hadn't seen since entering--

"M- Mr. Lukas?"

Peter Lukas smiled warmly, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his woollen overcoat. "Martin, hello."

"W- How did you get in here? Why are you here?" Despite recognising the man that now stood next to him, Martin was not at all put at ease.

“Hm? Oh, I’m simply checking in, nothing to worry about.”

“Check- checking in, is it? On what exactly, Mr. Lukas?”

The man’s eyebrows rose, as if the question surprised him. “On this place, of course. I dare say, I thought you were meant to be a researcher, Martin. This Lighthouse was built and maintained by my family. And really, Martin, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Peter?”

“At least once more,” Martin said dismissively, “So that’s why this place is all weird then, eh? Is this some... gateway to the Lonely then?”

Lukas blinked at Martin’s question. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Great.” Martin headed for the stairs, leaving Lukas behind, and distantly hoping he would stay there. He wouldn’t, but Martin could still hope. As he began to ascend the stairs, he started by counting the steps he took, uncertain as to why, but when he finally reached the top of the spiralling stairs, he'd somehow managed to lose count.

"You know it's quite rude to walk away in the middle of a conversation, Martin."

“Is that what we were having? A conversation, was it? News to me.” Martin finally turned around, unsurprised to find Lukas standing not two feet away from him. But at hearing Martin’s words, an amused little smirk crossed the man’s face. And somehow that was worse than any other possible reaction. The quiet enjoyment Lukas seemed to take from Martin's snark just didn't sit right with him. After all, normally if someone said something less than inviting, it was a clear sign that one wanted someone to piss off. And yet. “Don’t look at me like that.” Martin huffed.

“Like what, exactly?” Lukas questioned, all while still keeping the exact same expression on his face.

So Martin just ignored him, and headed towards the metal ladder that was placed across from the top of the stairs. Placing a hand gingerly against the rung at eye level, he inspected the ladder and found that, like the ground floor, it did not show its age. If anything it looked as if it had just been freshly polished or something. But at least it looked sturdy enough that he was unlikely to break anything if he attempted to climb it. So rather than continuing the ‘conversation’ with Lukas, Martin began his ascent up the ladder, towards a grate that seemed to be made out of the same metal as the ladder, but thankfully wasn’t nearly as heavy as it appeared.

"Martin?"

"Sh." He waved a hand dismissively at the man below him before focusing on pushing the grate up and then continuing his climb. As his head poked up through the hatchway, he immediately felt a cold ocean breeze against his face and rustling through his hair. The smell of saltwater and seaweed welcoming his senses as he climbed out and onto the catwalk at the top of the Lighthouse. It only took a moment of consideration before he carefully flipped the cover of the hatchway back over and into place. Then it was only after doing so that it crossed his mind that, if Lukas wanted to follow him, he probably wouldn’t have to climb up the ladder like Martin had. Still, there was a certain amount of vindictive joy that came with the action. Stretching out his back, Martin gazed around, noticing that the sparse amounts of mist that had rolled off the water seemed to have turned now into a heavy fog that clung to the shore of the beach. As Martin peered out towards the water, he found the view entirely obscured by the fog, barely able to even see the water closest to the shore. It made sense that this didn’t make him feel too great about things.

Swallowing a sigh, Martin turned to inspect the Lighthouse’s lamp instead, and ignore the growing feeling of unease in his stomach. He was probably just overreacting anyways. The lamp seemed to be a somewhat older one. Paraffin, maybe? And unlike most of the Lighthouse, it definitely looked like it hadn’t been in use for decades, or even longer. Oddly, though, was that there still seemed to be signs of when it had last been in use, a thick layer of smut coating the inside of the glass. Although, he supposed that could just be dust. Probably wasn’t though.

Exhaling a long breath, Martin eyed the hatch, deciding it was probably best to just leave now. Clearly there wasn’t anything that weird about the place, and he was pretty sure the statement giver had been drinking with their mates, and they’d come in the night, so… God, he sounded like Jon, didn’t he? Trying to come up with a witty logical reason for things rather than except that something strange might’ve happened. Lifting the grate and placing it down gently, he descended the ladder, only pausing for a moment when it crossed his mind that he probably ought to replace the hatches cover, for no other reason but that it would be polite of him to do so, really.

Back down in the Lighthouse, Martin didn’t know whether to be happy, or further unnerved, to find Lukas nowhere in sight. It was reasonable to assume that Martin’s less than hospitable attitude had convinced the man to leave, or that he’d left to inspect the ground floor instead of waiting for Martin to come back down. That’s when… that’s when Martin really started to notice things about the place. First thing was when he let go of the ladder rung, and a smear of rust came off with his hand, staining his palm with the unsavoury russet colour of unkempt metal. Then, the floor, that seemed to have accumulated a lifetime's worth of dust in the five minutes or so that he’d spent above. The walls seemed to have bent and bowed with age, warped from their many years left uncared for by the sea’s shore, and no doubt if they were to bend to the point of snapping, the framework of the Lighthouse would yield nothing but rotten, decayed wood.

And it wasn’t that Martin hadn’t noticed this all before-- it was the fact that it hadn’t been like this before. The knot in his stomach shifted as he looked down the spiralling metal staircase. It still looked vaguely in one piece, but… with the state of decay the walls were in, he doubted the staircase was sporting any stellar amounts of support. He took a few cautious steps down the stairs, and he really didn’t love the way they creaked and groaned under foot, the occasional hollow clunk as if a nail or screw, or something, had come lose. Luckily, he still managed to make it back down to the ground floor, and the whole staircase didn’t collapse in his wake so… He was probably going to be fine, right?

“Um… Mr. Lukas? Are you still here somewhere? Because I’m, uh… I’m leaving now, y’know. Place really isn’t that strange or anything, so… I figure this was a wasted trip.”

No answer.

“Great, yeah. Okay, bye then, creepy lighthouse.” Martin clicked his tongue as he scooted over towards the door, no longer surprised to see that it was also showing its immense age. Or that the floor was covered in debris, and the smell of must and abandonment had only grown stronger the longer he regarded the door. Which honestly tracked. But all he had to do was leave and everything would be fine, so. No big deal.

He only hesitated when he noticed the thick layer of dust that clung to the door handle, but quickly managed to just… ignore it, and he wrapped his hand around the handle and opened the door. Or tried to. It wasn’t magically locked or anything. And it hadn’t warped to the point that it was stuck in place. No, what stopped Martin from opening the door, and by extension nearly gave him a heart attack, was a large hand slamming palm first against the old wood, forcing the door to stay closed.

“I don’t suggest leaving just yet, Martin.”

Martin didn’t respond immediately. Mostly because he was trying to make sure his heart wouldn’t explode. That being said, standing statue-still and staring wide-eyed at the door in front of him probably wasn’t a good look if he wanted to pretend Lukas hadn’t just almost scared the shit out of him. “Oookay… and why is that?” He finally asked, still white-knuckling the door handle.

“Well, I would have addressed it earlier when you brought it up; the-- thing about this Lighthouse being a sort of… gateway to the Lonely wasn’t entirely off base.”

Martin nodded sharply, but made no other movement. “Right. So… are we… are we in the Lonely, right now?”

“No. The Lighthouse as it currently is, is neither here nor there. Unless of course, you decided to leave, in which case, you would certainly find yourself in the Lonely.”

Martin’s face scrunched at the revelation, and slowly, he managed to pull his hand away from the door handle and step back. “Great. That’s great, that is just… peachy.” Martin exhaled a long breath, turning around to pace in the open space available to him. “So, what? Are we stuck here now? Or is there something special we have to do so that when that door opens we’ll be back in… in the real world, or whatever?”

Lukas seemed to relax, lifting his hand from the door and shrugging slightly before speaking. “This is hardly a matter of ‘we’, as I am more than capable of coming and going from the Lonely as I please.”

Martin folded his hands, pressing his knuckles against his mouth as he took a deep breath in through his nose. “O-K, so! What do I have to do then?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. I have certainly never been in such a situation, and neither have I ever had reason to get someone out of the Lonely.”

“Guess I just have to wait it out then, don’t I?” Martin decided, looking around the sparse room for a chair or something. Finding nothing of the sort, he went back to pacing the length of the room, back and forth. “There has to be some way to… speed it up, though, right? I mean, clearly when I first entered, I was still in- in England, or whatever. So… do I have to go back up to the top of the Lighthouse again? Retrace my steps or something? Undo whatever it is I did in the first place?”

“I believe you’re thinking of this too literally, Martin. Or rather, you’re thinking about this like an acolyte of the Eye would, which isn’t surprising, but it certainly won’t help you. I doubt you’ll find any magic clues that will reverse your situation.”

“No? Then what? I should think of it like… like you would? Takes someone who’s lonely to figure out the Lonely? God I hate that.”

“Then perhaps you ought not to have come here in the first place.”

“Yeah, a bit late for that, innit?” Martin turned to glare at the man.

And, of course, Lukas only shrugged under Martin’s ire. “What do you want from me, Martin?”

“Well, a bit of help would be appreciated, actually. Seeing as this is your… area of expertise, so to speak.”

Lukas looked considerate for a moment, head tilted to the side ever so slightly as he seemed to be weighing options. At least, that’s what his expression brought to Martin’s mind. “And what would be in it for me if I did help you?”

Now, obviously Martin’s first instinct was to just ask what Lukas wanted, and maybe bargain from there depending on what was requested. However. Martin actually brought his brain with him on this trip. “ Oh? So now you’re saying you can help me? Before you said you wouldn’t even know where to start, but now, suddenly you know what’s up, but you want something from me first? How do I know I’m not gonna end up agreeing to something, only for you to have no idea how to get us out of this, hm?”

Lukas’ brow furrowed, and he seemed to mentally go back over what Martin had said a few times before his frown only deepened. “Apologies, Martin, but I don’t follow.”

Martin took a short breath, before just being blunt. “How do I know you can actually get me out of this Lighthouse?”

“Oh. Well, I suppose you don’t, but it would also appear as though you don’t have many other viable options for a means of escape. As you said, you could simply continue to wait it out or…”

“Or I could listen to your offer.”

“Correct.”

“Hm.” Martin crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his shoulders as he considered. “And what exactly is your offer then? What’s the catch for getting you to help me out?”

“Well, as you know, I have made it clear I would like you to be my assistant at the Institute, however… unlike your former boss- that is to say, Elias- I’m not as interested in forcing people into inescapable contracts. And given what your responsibilities as my assistant would include, it would work far better if you were willing to work with me.” Martin’s shoulders tensed as the man paused. “After all, your interest in research would be an asset in what I need from you.”

Martin relaxed slightly, but he still wasn’t quite sold yet. “So… what? If you help me out of here, then I’m obligated to… consider the position as your assistant?” That sounded far too simple to be all there was to this.

“Not exactly. As things currently are, I have been having some issues with adjusting as the new director of the Institute, so rather than having your mere consideration, or fully throwing you into the position, it would be of great help if you simply… made yourself available to me when I have issues with the more… mundane day-to-day nonsense of the Institute. And when you’re ready, we can have a proper conversation about the more… esoteric demands of your position as my assistant.”

“Alright, so you help me this once, and then I spend the rest of my time helping you out here and there until I’m ready to make a full commitment?”

“Basically, yes.”

Martin eyed the door that led out of the Lighthouse, finding himself wondering if maybe this had been some sort of grand, complicated setup. But the more he regarded Lukas, the less he was certain the man was capable of something like that. The thought still itched at the back of his mind though. “How do I know that i can’t just… walk out of here right now and find myself back in the normal world?”

Lukas sighed, but didn’t seem surprised by Martin’s question. “Naturally, you are more than welcome to open up this door and have a look for yourself, but I assure you, you won’t find England on the other side of it.”

“Well naturally. I’d just find another door, because beyond this one is a tiny little entryway.” Martin couldn’t help but point out.

“Yes, of course, but… you know exactly what I meant. But if a demonstration is what you need, then by all means.” Lukas reached a hand back towards the door handle, as he’d never actually managed to step away and had more or less just stayed in the same place throughout the whole exchange, and opened the door, letting it creak open to reveal the actual door that stood between the Martin, and what would supposedly be ‘the Lonely’. “You are more than welcome to take a peek.”

Martin took a moment to look from the door, to Lukas, and back again before making his decision. “You know what? I think I will.”

“Fine. Be my guest,” Lukas stepped to the side.

Martin eyed him as he passed by. It was only when he reached the outer door that he paused for a moment. The door handle was surprisingly warm against his palm, but like before, the door opened easily, and for a moment Martin dared to hope. But as the door opened, he was greeted with a dull grey light from outside and the sight of thick fog. Looking down, he didn’t see a worn path, but greyish water that stretched away from just outside the doorway, and eventually mingled and seemed to become one with the swirling grey mist, until telling them apart was impossible. Martin also noticed how, even as he leaned out a bit, staring into the seemingly clear depths of the water, there was no image of himself reflected back, and there was no discernible bottom beneath the calm water.

The longer he stood there with the door open, then closer the fog seemed to stretch out towards him, until it seemed to be reaching out, ready to grab him. Martin quickly pulled back, and pushed the door closed once again, leaning against it, and finally realising that he was very nearly gasping for breath, as if he hadn’t breathed since he opened the door.

“Okay, alright. So, um… I help you out with any future difficulties in regards to the day-to-day of the Institute, and you can get me the hell out of here, right?” Martin turned around, and found Lukas’ frame standing in the doorway.

“Not a fan of the Lonely I take it? Bit of surprise, I will admit.”

“Hm, no, I just… don’t really feel like a swim right now.”

Lukas frowned, tilting his head to look at the door Martin was leaning against. “Was it high tide already?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Hm. Well, we can leave whenever you’re ready, I believe. You are finished with your little investigation, yes?”

“Yup, very finished, very much done. Also I’m starting to feel like you might’ve set this all up, and while I don’t like it, I would still rather be out of here than just… left stranded, so. Yeah.”

“Martin, as I said, I’m not the sort to come up with ways of forcing people into contracts. No, this is nothing more than a bit of luck, at least on my end. Really, given how long this place has been abandoned, it’s unsurprising that its managed to find a life of its own. It’s quite interesting, actually; perhaps after I get you sorted I’ll come back here… but let us focus on one thing at a time.”

It really was too early to tell if Martin would come to regret his decision to agree to work with Lukas, even if it were just in a small part, but he was vaguely certain that this was a sort of… foot in the door scenario. And it would likely only be a matter of time before Lukas managed to completely enter, and Martin would finally have to deal with whatever nonsense the man had decided he needed Martin’s help specifically with. But one thing at a time.

#burlesque writes #petermartin #petermartinweek2020 #things are gonna get spicier as the days progress #that is a promise that i am mostly making to myself #and once i have the whole week done i'll post it in a clump on ao3 or something maybe #dunno yet depends on how much i end up hating it all lmao #because i admit that i had to cut A Lot out to get this done since i work a long shift today :(

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pkmnsdarkqueen · 5 years ago

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Drabble-So calls my heart to bad decisions. (Sinnoh)

Based on this , cause I can’t get it out of my head and I think it’d be funny to give mini versions of the crack ideas I said. Cut cause of length.

“You know as architecturally fascinating as this place is I think I like the Eterna base better.” “Wait seriously? All of the fun planning stuff that you love is here though. I mean we just read through notes in a lab about the lake guardians. That is your exact cup of tea.” “Yeah I knoooow but it was so much more dilapidated. How is this place still so clean?” “The various roombas might have something to do with it.”

Will chimed in as he stepped to the side to let another one slide by. When they talked to Cynthia she had mentioned the leader having an affinity for robots and machines which is why both Karen and Will hadn’t batted an eye at seeing a roomba in every room puttering around.

Still Karen had expected it to be a bit more chaotic. I mean at least some wall paper starting to peel, a nick in a wall here and there, but no the place was just uncannily spotless. It made her wonder if anyone was still living there. They had encountered said issue before which had thankfully resolved itself. This time though she wasn’t so sure since as far as she knew they hadn’t met many Galactic members.

Continuing in their exploits they both looked around the giant hall they’d entered. There wasn’t anything in the room except of course another roomba, guess they all were active this time of night, and a large podium area built into the room. As soon as they saw this Karen already knew what Will was about to say.

“I want to get up there.” “Ok well let’s keep looking around and see if we can find stairs or another door, or-” “No way that’s lame, and these trips are for fun remember!”

Will cut her off running towards the wall starting to jump. The woman shook her head watching him miss the ledge by a long shot. Oh she already knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“And how are you going to get up there from this room? That ledge is a whole you taller, and if you hadn’t noticed this place is stupidly minimalistic.”

She countered leaning against one of the walls to watch the show. He had moved from trying to jump it to knocking along the walls of the room. Personally she hoped he had taken her advice and was looking for a hidden stair case or something. Sure enough at one point there was a hollow thud causing both of them to perk up. Will grinned from ear to ear starting to see what objects he could manipulate. A hinge, a lock, some part of a door, and sure enough he was able to locate the spot to press on the wall. The panel cracked open with a small pop, and Will flung the door wide revealing chairs. Again practically spotless organized room with many stacks of chairs.

“This is how.” “Oh this is going to be a bad idea.” “It is not ye of little faith! Watch me dazzle you with my genius.” “I’m going to tell Lance those were your final words before you broke your neck.”

Karen told him watching him use the dolly to position a stack by the wall. He could possibly reach now but looking at the chairs she wasn’t sure how steady taht tower would be. Sure they were your regular auditorium like chairs which was better than folding chairs, but as he said she was ye of little faith.

“I’ll be fine, just be sure to catch me if I fall.” “No way, if I do that you’ll probably take both of us down. If you fall I’m going to say karma, and then laugh in your face.” “At least one of us will be able to laugh at my pain because I’m betting on a few broken ribs if I fail.” “How reassuring.”

Despite the shaking tower and general poor decision this was He was making progress. He always had the better sense of balance and so she watched silently as he grunted and huffed his way to the top of the stack. By the time he reached the top he had gotten the right height too, and was able to reach over to grab the lip of the wall. A few more scrambled moments and he had managed to crawl his way on to the other side giving a final kick to the chair pile which started to tip. HIs victorious pose of with two fisted hands in the air was met with the crashing applause of many chairs crashing to the floor. So much for this place being kept practically spotless.

“You know I admire the grit that took, but question. You could of floated there Mr. Hi yeah so I’m psychic.” “I know but I want to save it in case we run into something or someone dangerous. Like what if this Cyrus guy has befriended Girintina right after getting sucked up in that world between worlds and he’s watching us right now with the weird science over there, gets mad we’re wrecking his stuff and BOOM!”

He emphasized smashing his fist on the short wall.

“Girintina and him burst through and attack us!” “I think that marathon of all the Godzilla movies followed by season one of Stargate SG1 was a bad idea.” “You’re just like killing my imagination.”

Will pouted having found a few pieces of paper to ball up one of which he threw at her. Easily it was caught by the woman who, out of curiosity started to unfold it. Huh, well this was interesting.

“Hey Will the paper you tossed down looks like an old speech. Damn you know some of the phrases in here look familiar,’this is of upmost importance, you know the price of failure.’” “Secrecy is key, keeps your senses sharp, oooh I found the one I used to hear all the time! Don’t disappoint me.”

The elite mocked using an older deeper man voice to pull a chuckle from Karen.

“Oh but you sure did disappoint, but not as badly as Sham and Carl did some days. We really outclassed them so soon after joining, you know they had every right to be mad at us for that.”

The woman chimed in remembering well the day they basically became the right hand men and pushing those two out of their place. Despite being both younger, and not around as long they were quite the trained soldiers. In retro-spect that was not a good thing, but in some weird way Karen still felt pride in that.

“I’m sorry I think you mean Coral and Shoe which I remember him calling them once because he forgot their names. I fully agree that they had every right to be mad at us. We were nothing but some dorks that showed up, I came already born with powers, you are just well, you’re yourself.” “You know normally you say that as an insult.” “And this time I mean it as a compliment because compared to those two you came in Black Widow even without training yet. Then next thing you know we’re top dogs, we manage to connect with legendary pokemon, and are given control to command them, we get trusted to guard the main plan in the end, and are openly the favorite. I don’t blame them for hating our guts as kids. To be fair we deserved that hate, and all the other hate we’ve gotten. It’s a good thing like came and kicked us in the nuts when it did because if it hadn’t I’m telling you right now we would of likely ran that branch of Rocket after Pryce up and zipped off!”

The psychic started to rant. It was always fun when he started this. It was like watching a comedy special done by a very well dressed individual, with the accompanying hand gestures and pacing. All it took was a little audience participation and he’d go on a roll. What better place for him to give a speech than here.

“Oh us run the joint, huh? Now this I want to hear.”

Karen encouraged seeing her friend grin as he straightened up.

“Let me tell you then! Now we both know if we knew the real reason that garbage human being wanted our help, reunite a lapras with it’s family, we would of revolted!” “Revolted?” “I fucking said it! Viva la revolution, and everything because we both knew all the shit we’d gone through wasn’t worth THAT! So if you’d listened to me and backed off of Blue when ya did we would of had not one, not two, but three legendary birds, and Ho-oh and Lugia cause there is no way we’d give them back after finding out his big plan. SO we’d take those birds, we’d rally up some of the other Rocket members in the other districts who’d follow us cause we ACTUALLY would manage to have control over real legendary pokemon and played our cards right till we and our group were strong enough to take down the league.”

He stressed grabbing the edge of the concrete wall to lean in.

“Cause when you put Karen and Will together we are such goddamn unstoppable forces not even Arceus can stop you and I.”

Karen was grinning watching him give his little motivational speech and clapped her hands shouting encore a few times to boost the dramatics of his little speech. He of course did not take this in a humble stride giving dramatic bows as if they had a large audience to entertain complete with blowing a kiss and pretending to weep. All dramatic exaggerations until one sweep of his hand and misstep seemed to be a bit too grand. Unaware there was more paper scattered on the ground his foot started to slip. HIs latest ‘thank you’ was cut short as he felt his weight go over the edge. Even grabbing it was no good as he started to tip. Karen stopped her applause once she saw this breaking into a run as she raced over to catch him. Although she too took a tumble after not seeing a chair by her feet.

There was a crash as the chairs collided with each other again now with an added person. The one to land after skidding against the floor was Karen. Will floated above her giving a hiss knowing that had to hurt.

“....well, now who forgot I could float.”

He muttered feeling her hand grab his ankle and yank him down. With concentration broken he fell the last half a foot. Ok maybe he deserved that.

“You know funnily enough I was about to swing the conservation to talking about how it’s a good thing we ended up where we are. Life has a way of kicking folks like us down a peg.....or in this case pride comes before fall.”

There was a long pause as Karen simply stared at him dead pan before shaking her head starting to laugh. Sure she was still bruised and so was he, but hey they might as well enjoy this laugh even if it was a stupid one.

#drabble #for fun #psychic master will #(cyrus i watching them and judging them)

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isitgintimeyet · 6 years ago

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The Ties That Bind

Thanks for all the lovely comments. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks again to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta.

AO3

Chapter 6: A First Date

You meet thousands of people, and none of them really touch you. And then you meet one person, and your life is changed forever. - Jamie Randall, Love and Other Drugs

Claire twirled in front of the mirror for the third time. That was the problem with Scotland, four seasons in a day. Although it was a clear evening at the moment, whether it would stay like that was another matter.

It seemed like half of Claire’s small and mostly practical wardrobe lay strewn across the bed as she hesitated between outfit choices. The black pencil skirt and white shirt reminded her too much of a waitress; her go-to little black dress was too dressy for a casual first date. Having finally made her choice, she took a quick selfie in the mirror and forwarded it to Geillis for confirmation.

Geillis’s response was almost instantaneous: “hot momma,” followed by three fire emojis. The black jeans and patterned satin shirt had passed the test.

Geillis quickly sent another text. “Unbutton the shirt a bit.”

Claire ignored it and hunted for some heels in the bottom of her wardrobe.

Another ping, again from Geillis. “I mean it, unbutton a bit. This is potential fling material here. Love ya xx”

Sighing, Claire undid a couple of buttons, letting the black lace of her camisole peep though.

Glancing at the clock, she fastened her high-heeled black sandals. It had been some time since she’d worn anything so high. Whilst Claire herself was not overly tall, Frank had been most particular about her not appearing as tall or even, heaven forbid, taller than him. So her very few pairs of high heels had been relegated to the back of the wardrobe for the duration of their relationship (apart from the odd ‘gentleman’s choice’ bedroom dress-up sessions - they tended to feature quite heavily there). Besides, they weren’t really practical in her day to day life, suitable only for dates and other ‘romantic assignations’. And seeing as this was Claire’s first ‘first date’ for six years, walking in them felt very strange indeed. Although, Claire thought as she executed a final twirl in the mirror, they really did make her legs seem longer.

She collected her black clutch bag and leather jacket, ignored her umbrella and headed for the door.

******

The taxi dropped Claire off at the restaurant ten minutes before the agreed meeting time. Fortunately the evening was still rain-free, so Claire decided to have a quick peek in and, if there was no Jamie, take a ten minute stroll before going in. Somehow it seemed important to her not to be the first one to arrive.

She gazed through the window into the restaurant’s bar area. She immediately saw him sitting at the bar, the broad lines of his back easily recognisable, as were the soft, red curls nestling against the collar of his denim blue shirt.

Claire took a deep breath and gave her reflection in the glass a final inspection before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Through the mirror behind the bar, Jamie had a clear view of the door and kept one eye on it, the other one on his watch as he sipped his whisky. He had arrived early, he knew, but it seemed important that he was there to wait for her as his guest. With ten minutes to spare, he looked up and saw her reflection as she entered the restaurant. Even at this distance, he could see how special she was.

As she approached he turned to face her, smiling. Her dark hair was loose about her face, the wildness somehow tamed slightly into defined curls. From the top of her satin shirt, he caught a glimpse of black lace. The black jeans that she wore accentuated the shape of her legs, and, Jamie was sure even without looking, her arse.

He stood up as she drew closer, ready to greet her.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Claire.”

Jamie leant in to give Claire a small kiss on the cheek, just as Claire extended her right hand, ready to shake his. Quickly, she withdrew her hand, her cheeks reddening as she brushed against his abdomen.

“Shall I see if our table is ready or would ye like a drink at the bar first?” Jamie asked, tactfully ignoring the hand placement issue.

“I don’t mind.” Claire suddenly felt nervous. Her first date since Frank and she’d forgotten how to behave. She felt awkward and her mouth was suddenly very dry. “Actually, could we have a drink here, would that be ok?”

“Aye, that’s fine. We’re a wee bit early anyways. What do ye fancy?”

“Whisky, please, Glenmorangie.” Jamie raised an eyebrow in approval at her choice of drink.

Claire perched herself on a high bar stool next to Jamie as he tried to attract the barman’s attention. She watched him, admiring how his shirt enhanced the blue of his eyes. Eyes she could drown in. His cheeks and chin wore a trace of stubble. She longed to reach out and stroke those tiny bristles. She had forgotten how this felt, this attraction, now a spark in her stomach but ready to ignite with white-hot intensity.

The clink of her whisky glass roused Claire from her reverie. She leant over and added a couple of ice cubes to her drink.

Jamie suppressed a shudder and decided not to comment on her preference, certainly not on a first date.

They engaged in casual chat for a few minutes - the weather (could I be any more English, Claire despaired), the state of Wee Jamie’s health - until they were escorted to their table.

The high-backed semi-circular booth provided an air of intimacy. It also meant that they did not have to sit formally facing each other across the table, so automatically positioned themselves at an angle to each other as they slid into the booth. Close enough to touch… but no, not yet. Jamie watched Claire as she read the menu, biting her bottom lip in indecision as she struggled to make a choice. The waiter hovered expectantly.

“Have ye decided?” Jamie asked.

“Not quite. You go first…” Claire knew how indecisive she was in restaurants. She always preferred to hear everyone else’s choices first and then make her decision.

“I would like the bruschetta con gamberi, followed by the trofiette con agnello, please.” He spoke the Italian phrases with confident pronunciation.

Claire studied his choices. “I’ll have the same, please”

“What wine would ye prefer?”

“I usually drink white - Pinot Grigio.”

“A white would get swamped with the flavours of the lamb, ye ken? How about we try a red, and if ye dinna like it, we can get yer Pinot Grigio?”

Claire nodded as Jamie ran his eyes down the extensive wine list. “A bottle of Pinot Nero Trentino 2015 please. It’s no’ as heavy as some of the reds here.” He explained to Claire as they handed their menus to the waiter.

“So, are you ‘into’ your wines then?”

“Aye, I suppose. I have an uncle in Paris who has a wine export business. I spent a couple o’ summers working wi’ him while I was at university. It gi’es ye a taste for a nice wine.”

“And after uni, did you not fancy working with him in Paris?”

“Nah, I reckon I couldna live anywhere but Scotland. It’s part o’ me… in ma blood. So, why are ye here in Scotland, ye Sassenach?” He teased.

“I do know what that means.” Claire retorted. “I get called ‘bloody sassenach’, and worse, plenty in the Emergency Department on a Saturday night.”

“‘Twas no’ meant as an insult.” Jamie said hurriedly, anxious lest Claire get annoyed or upset. To him it was a term of endearment, the first of many, he hoped, but not one that could scare her off so early with declarations of love and passion. In his mind, and in his contact list, he had been referring to her as his Sassenach since their phone call earlier in the week.

“That’s fine, I know you didn’t invite me here just to insult me!” Claire smiled in reassurance. “To answer your question, I came up to Glasgow for my residency programme after university. Then I sort of, well, stayed…” She tailed off, flustered. She didn’t want to bring Frank into the conversation tonight.

The waiter appeared at the table with the wine, presented label uppermost. He poured a small amount in a glass and passed it to Jamie, who sniffed, then sipped at the wine, letting the liquid roll around his mouth before swallowing. “Aye, that’s grand. Thank ye.” The waiter poured two glasses before departing.

Jamie looked at Claire as he lifted his own glass. “Slainte. Now try that wine… see what ye think.”

Claire sipped tentatively. Surprised, she took a larger mouthful and nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m sorry about before. I dinna mean to ask ye questions ye dinna want tae answer. I willna ask ye to tell all yer secrets.”

“No, that’s ok. I stayed up here when I finished my training because of a relationship.”

“With a Scot?”

“No, an Englishman working at the university. Anyway he moved back to England several months ago and I decided to stay here. I have my job and my friends here and, well, I love the city.”

“Do ye no’ have family in England?”

Claire shook her head, her curls swaying with the motion. “No, I’m an only child. My parents died when I was five, and I was adopted by my only other relative, Uncle Lamb. He died about four years ago, so there’s nothing, or no one, to lure me back to England.”

Jamie reached across the table and lightly stroked her fingers, wrapped around the stem of her wine glass.

“Och, lass.” He said softly.

The arrival of the first course lifted the mood at the table and the conversation between Claire and Jamie flowed as easily as the wine. As they consumed the main course and a second bottle of wine, Claire realised that she could not remember the last time she’d had this much fun on a date. Even during the best times with Frank, there had always been an underlying tension: Another glass of wine, Claire? Is that wise? Wouldn’t the salad be a better choice? Is that appropriate for dinner conversation?

Jamie was entranced. The date was progressing better than he could have hoped. This is what had been missing with Geneva, this natural flow of conversation. He felt relaxed, could be himself. God, he was enjoying it.

Finally admitting defeat, Claire leant back, full of good food and wine. “So, you’ve not told me what you do, if you’re not in the wine business.”

Jamie finished his mouthful of lamb and put his fork down. “Well, I’m Chief Finance Officer for a distillery - Broch Tuarach. D’ ye ken it?”

“Ooh, yes. Never tasted it though. Supposed to be one of the best? But don’t you work here in Glasgow? I thought Broch Tuarach was in the Highlands.”

“Aye it is. No’ far from Inverness. That’s the production side of it. The finance, marketing and the like is based here in the city. I go up tae the distillery every couple of weeks. There’s no place quite like it. One of the oldest in Scotland, ye ken?” He added proudly. “I like tae wander round, imagining what it would have been like when it first started in the late eighteenth century. There’s a collection of ledgers and such up there right from the start. Fascinating! Weel, at least I think it is…”

Jamie tailed off, worried that Claire might think him boring or a geek, to get excited about such things.

Claire only saw the brightness in his eyes, heard the passion in his voice. “It sounds really interesting. You must be quite the expert on the whisky’s history.”

“Aye, I’d love for ye tae see it…” He stopped. Dinna get ahead of yerself, one step at a time. “...Sometime, perhaps.”

Claire looked directly into his eyes. “Yes, I’d like that… I’d like that very much.”

#outlander fanfic #outlander fan fiction #the ties that bind #chapter 6 #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #modern AU

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a-writing-bear · 6 years ago

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[PruCan] Chapter 8: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/39297289

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU: College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature: Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.) WITHIN THIS CHAPTER - Mentions of Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, Counseling, and anti-depressants. (please note I am NOT anti-meds.) Family Issues are implied.

Setting up his usual war zone of paint, He lamented over his still unfinished piece of a personal canvas. Matthew detailed a picture in his mind so vividly he felt as if he could see the finished canvas on the wall already but his hands seemed to fail him in actually creating it. Upon a haphazard tarp stood his easel and he took the once pearly off-white canvas he had nicked from the art department- his lecturer adored him so he doubts it would be missed- the canvas was already messy with unfinished splodges that seemed off and unlike his previous works. It had been like this for months. No matter how many strokes, whenever he worked on this personal painting it never came out right. Somehow paint would be spilt and he’d be left either in tears or in a bitter silence as he cleared up his disaster zone. In fact, he should probably do this in the department if he wanted to avoid fines for ruining his rented dorm again with such heavy duty acrylic- but he found solitude in doing his art somewhere privately his own. As the coloured bristles feather-kissed the scene once more Matthew focused on the strokes, as if each one was more important than the other, solving an intricate puzzle. It shaped up pleasantly as each new stroke made the blurry figures come to life; he had been painting a captured memory, nostalgic enough that if he decided to gift it to any of the subjects he had been trying to depict, they themselves would hopefully remember it well. He could still remember the damp grass and the beautiful budding petals of the bunches of bright tulips, himself sat in the open cargo of Tim’s family pickup truck with his back to the driver’s compartment, Alfred on the edge where the tailgate opened, dangling his legs off almost falling onto the gravelly road. Tim, was on his left, even seated he was taller than him. It was a childhood memory he can always remember. The dutch kid had been insistent of showing the twins his family’s Tulip crop when they had come to visit for the summer- and his mother had taken a photo in the excitement of all three of the boys. Matthew knew he could just ring his mother for the actual picture but his hand would rather create the piece itself. If only he could finish it.

He smiled to himself, that summer was one of the best- he hadn’t a problem in his head too much that season, besides his usual anxious thoughts, it was a peaceful summer. Tim would be embarrassed by this, but he knew in some way or another Laura would get her brother to frame it and displayed in their home. Matthew always loved how secretly stuck to his family Tim was, even going as far to rent a house for his siblings and himself rather than bunk along in the dorms or find other senior flatmates. Family loyalty. Even looking at the painted version of Alfred made him feel guilty. Did Alfred really think Matthew wanted to break their trust? Well obviously not if he was willing to come to his session today- there was a knock on the door,

“It’s Gilbert” came muffled through the door and Matthew cursed a little, was it 5 already? God, he should be counting the hours down till he had to see Dr Paisley, not absentmindedly getting lost.

“Hold on!” abandoning his artwork, he flung himself to the door but not before running his hand through his hair a little.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you too” Gilbert himself looked tired, exhausted even. How did Gilbert somehow pull off the tired look so well? Must be the jeans or the- focus Matthew. They both shuffled back in, Gilbert already rambling on about the animation and class schedules. Turns out they both have completely non-compliant timings, no wonder they have never met before: If it wasn’t a class that made them miss each other, it was Gilbert’s work schedule. A schedule which made Matthew’s eyebrows arch in amazement- Gilbert worked hard.

“I mean, I used to be the bender sort you know. The type of college hooligan to...go out a lot”, when asked Gilbert, explained absentmindedly as if he was talking to himself a little bit. “But, Right now we need the money so I can’t afford to go out recklessly like I used to...i don't think I want to either, it’s not my- not my thing anymore.”

They went off topic, Gilbert shoved some more director notes he had made during his work break as Matthew ploughed through some old storyboards, already sketching in a plain spare artbook. The albino looked like he was gonna collapse, and although Matthew offered him the desk seat he had been rejected with nothing more than a pat on the shoulder and a ‘just continue sketching I’m cool’.

“You can take a nap on my bed if you want, I took a nap at Alfred's room earlier today so it’s not messy, promise.” Gilbert light up at the offer and carried his thin legs to the bed, the dorm rooms were tiny and yet he had only just noticed Matthew’s little corner hosting a new work in progress. It couldn’t have been coursework, the Canadian finished that yesterday after the music incident. It was very detailed and although unfinished seemed as if a photograph had been printed out in the paint. With half of the canvas still quite plain he wondered of what Matthew had been thinking when painting. It was new in some splodges, the paint was still wet and fresh with paint pooling on the tarp and pots still scattered around the legs of the strong easel, but the dry almost discoloured details in the other corners suggested otherwise.

“Whose that? In the painting?” his long fingers pointing at the tiny scarf figure, Matthew barely turned to even check what Gilbert was looking at.

“That’s younger Alf-”

“No, I know that’s your brother- the expression is on point, I mean the guy next to what I presume is fetus Mattie.” after a faux indignant huff of ‘hey!’ at that comment, Matthew had swivelled in his chair to examine who he meant.

“O-oh That’s Tim, a childhood friend. He’s a senior here actually. You probably know him.” distractedly the Canadian went back to humming as he raked through Gilbert’s script notes and his own little sketches. Gilbert’s eyebrows arched and furrowed after hearing Tim’s name. Was he the same Tim who Matthew was texting earlier? Would it matter if it were him?

“...the name doesn’t ring a bell…” Gilbert let his thoughts drift away as he snuggled more into the soft bedding. The smell flowery detergent enveloped him, and Gilbert grinned; It felt heavenly to lie down here- almost more welcoming than his own bed. About an hour had passed as he had napped, when he woke up, distracted by the sound of soft strumming from the nearby table speakers. The room host had been playing what Gilbert recognised as some Mom Jeans song. Of course, he listens to mom jeans. He’s perfect, Gilbert thought.

“Hey Matthew...” his eyes wandered to stare as Matthew’s form was hunched over in creative focus, messy hair slightly dishevelled from obvious rest earlier. Gilbert was going to attempt a little bit of chivalry, besides, Matthew had been so kind as to allow him to crash here; That deserved free dinner, right? Date or not...he could convince the other boy it was a platonic outing if he failed horrendously...which he doesn't.

“Gil- awake now? I can feel you overthinking from here dude.” Gilbert’s eyes fluttered now realising Matthew had responded to his distant Hey and was coming nearer to move onto the bed too,

“I just- Do you...I mean there's this really good diner in town- We could grab some food later cus I feel like I ow-” Matthew had turned in what could be perceived as shock but it melted away quickly as he was blushing in the brightest form of red; it was endearing and god Gilbert wished he could cup those cheeks and-

“That would be..!” The tone was so bright and loud and Gilbert’s heart jumped in premature celebration until he caught onto the last few bits of the reply “....actually fuck. I’m busy tonight Gil.” Apologising profusely aside, Gilbert could see a tinge of guilt wash over Matthew’s expression, secrets glinting under the faraway glaze. “In fact, I actually have somewhere to be soon and I should probably go.”

The silver-haired boy sat up, bunching his shirt in his hands; it sounded as if the Canadian was dying to avoid Gilbert right now Yet it would seem very improbable for such a kind-faced creature like Matthew to rudely do such a thing. Quick hands moved around the room as the blonde rushed round, hands searching for his hoodie that had been laid recklessly on the floor and a hasty pat down of pockets picking up the cheesy maple leaf keychain that latched onto his car keys. Matthew was about to run for the door before he realised his guest was still left on the bed very much puzzled,

“I just drafted some concept art, it’s not much right now- just scribbles. I’ll do the linework soon but if you want to stay in here for a bit t-that...that’s fine. I’ll uh not be back for a while. I really h-I have to go like right now.” The stumbling over words was nothing less than adorable but the complimenting panicky hands that fidgeted in a show of motion blurred movements really took the cake as he watched the man practically zoom out- a voice far from the doorway telling Gilbert to not forget to turn off the lights when he’s done. Alone with his thoughts, the air seemed thin and full of saddened merriment the longer he glared at his friend’s dorm room walls.

Matthew’s feet felt heavy and seemed to plummet with every step- his speedy getaway had slowed down significantly as he stood in front of Alfred’s dorm. He was not running away. He was just keeping track of time. His quick leave must of been really rude but his realisation over the time was more important- Dr Paisley didn’t appreciate late entrances. I’ll send him a text.

M @ 6:20 [Hey, Sorry didn’t mean to be rude. Just forgot I had to do something with Al. Ttyl?]

G @ 6:24 [Np. Tell the nerd I said hey! Ttyl, Imma sleep here forever man, your bed is amazing…]

The thought of Gilbert staying in his bed for even a second warmed his cheeks. Focus. His eyes ignored his phone as he went back to staring at his brother’s door down. Unsure hands knocked lightly as he heard quiet laughter drain out from underneath the wooden entrance.

“Come on in!” there was a quick shuffle as Matthew stammered in, not surprised to see Alfred closer what looked like a video call with Kiku. That’s adorable. He watched his brother fluster in closing the tab before snapping forward and clicking triumphantly towards his brother,

“Lemme just grab my stuff alright?” wallet and phone secured, the two wandered out humming, Car keys passed to Alfred as they slid into the slight wreck and worn out red car; Matthew almost insisted on driving as the other complained over the old ride but Alfred had already pushed it off and stuck his tongue out tryna reverse out the tiny university carpark. “So….what's on the agenda?” Careful eyes on the road as the day darkened, they made their way off campus. The red hoodie boy shrugged, leaning dismissively on the window as he watched buildings blur in the distance.

“It’s really just a catch-up and you get to sit in and then you’ve got to sign off for me.” The car had jerked to a stop as they reached a small private property, the building had been a renovated residence, and it’s awkward charm of brick build fit well in the surrounding suburban area. The clinic had been a reference from their family doctor, a private and less clinical-looking approach; Hospitals always made Matthew uneasy- a past of heavy hitting hockey accidents tend to make you regret hospital visits honestly. The two slinked out, Alfred smiling a little less wide, more genuine in his approach as he sauntered ahead- trying to appease Matthew anxiousness to ask him to go in. The little door jingled with an out of place kindness, and the secretary simply smiled as she saw Alfred gestured towards his brother.

“Hey Matthew, bit early but I’m sure she’ll let you slip in, I’ll let her know.”

“Thanks, John.” The two shuffled into the waiting room, the blue coloured walls screaming a soothing need to be somewhere else. A large white door that leads to the office glared at him, accusatory in it’s meaning. Although they were the only people present, Alfred’s demeanour just seemed so out of place, as if he was never meant to be in a generic chair surrounded by mental health posters- the beach blonde was basically a poster boy of happiness. Matthew scorned. No point getting upset over your brother, he’s tryna-

The big white door had swung open, a cheery disposition of Ms Paisley greeting the, ushering for the two to enter her office. The all-too-familiar couch never felt so small until he had to clamber onto it with Alfred cramping alongside him. The brown haired doctor had settled in her own seat, collected and calm as she watched the two settle patiently. This entire situation felt overcrowded. After she had introduced herself to Alfred, she had opened her arms out to Matthew, ready to fire off on questions no doubt.

“So! Matthew, Nice to see you as always, thank you for inviting your brother, I don’t want to make this difficult so let's lay down some rules.” explaining, her movement seemed so insistent on encouraging him to look at Al’s expression, but he couldn’t bring himself to even look away from her brown heels and the suddenly immensely interesting wooden floor.

“We can just do some simple questions today, Is that alright Matt? Alfred can sit in for a short while, and then I’d like to talk to him privately for a bit. That should take…” the clock taunted him as they both looked at it calculatingly. “30 Minutes, I’ll speak to Al for 15 and then we can have a little private time for the last 15. Is that alright?” It wouldn’t matter Al was already here he-

“Yeah that sounds good.” his voice caught up faster, desperate to get it over with. Don’t get the Canadian wrong: he enjoyed his sessions with Ms paisley, it was just hard...really exhausting being with his brother and his mind was about to explode with uncertainty over almost everything.

“How...how are you feeling Matt. Better than last week?”

Matthew felt like he was going to choke.

#prucan #APH Canada #APH Prussia #SoftSpokenCalling #prussia x canada #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #Axis Powers Hetalia #hetalia fandom #Hetalia Fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #Multichapter

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nathanielwessninski · 7 years ago

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AU!Football (Aareil!Andreil), Part 1.

I feel quite angry because yesterday I spent hours writing pieces of this, so that suddenly the light goes out in my urbanization and EVERYTHING I wrote is erased. fuckin 'shit. Now, again, I come back to this because it really is an idea that has not left me alone all day yesterday (and today). In itself, it is an AU in which instead of the Foxes being an Exy team, they are now Football, except Neil, who will now be a Vixen.

This will be like a light introduction to the characters.

Here the sport of Football is mixed, so the alignment will be the same as in the canon, except that Neil will be a cheerleader and Seth will be alive and occupy his 'position'.

Kevin will continue to be an obsessive sportsman who plays with an injury to his left hand (because of Riko), but will recover. Seth is less asshole here, because I admit that a certain part of me liked the character and I want to give it a try, but it will still have its sassy bitch side (not really homophobic).

(Seth and Allison are not in relationship romantic here, but they are best friends; Renee and Allison are girlfriends).

(The Moriyama here are not any kind of mafia or anything like that, only a high-ranking business family; and Riko is just a jerk. Do not worry).

Allison and Dan are still wild and loyal to theirs, and with Renee shutting the fucking mouths of all those who still think that a girl can not play a contact sport as well as a guy.

Matt and Nicky are smiling and adorable as always, but protective of their family. Andrew is a little less aggressive than usual with the Foxes (God bless you, Betsy Dobson), but an imbecile with sociopathic instincts as always; is a little closer to them and can engage in small conversations when the Foxes aren't being intrusive (Renee helped a lot to get to this type of 'truce'), and on RARE occasions defended the fools when someone tried to pass with them.

Aaron does change here a little more than the others did, it's something more closed than before in terms of his thoughts and feelings, but he considers the Foxes the true family he never had, although it took a lot to reach this understanding (Nicky , Renee and Betsy fought a lot for this); he is among the first to jump to defend them, although he is usually a asshole with them.

Another radical change is found in the fact that Aaron never sent a letter to Andrew, so they never met or knew of each other's existence until a slightly funny situation occurred at the University; It was something like Nicky strongly confusing Andrew with Aaron, which brought many questions that had no answers until they reunited the twins in the same room (along with a broad search in the family registry and a blood test).

Andrew had just transferred to PSU to continue his career in Criminal Justice, due to certain complications (he savagely beat a professor who tried to hurt Bee) at his previous University; To say that he was stupefied by such a finding would be bullshit, he really expected a strange shit like that of his sanguine 'family', not that he cared more, actually. What he was curious about, with a simple transfer of universities, he had just discovered that he had a twin and a cousin.

At first he stayed away from them as much as he could, he did not care a bit, he just focused on his classes and visiting Bee in his new office (she got a new job at PSU as a psychologist for his athletes).

Until she confused Andrew with Aaron when coach Wymack led his team to meet before her and decide what day it was for each of them to have a session with her. From there she advised Andrew a lot about how well it could make him try to know and approach this part of his family that he did not know, and that they seemed to be alone (besides the Foxes).

It was a complicated and lengthy process that Andrew and Aaron could engage in a long conversation, without monosyllables or sharp and sarcastic answers. From there they were able to reconstruct a bit of family history: Tilda gave both twins up for adoption, only to finally repent a bit and take one of them (Aaron) before finalizing the paperwork, Andrew went to the Foster System (and then to Juvie for his problematic attitude) and Aaron stayed to live with an abusive mother for years (not that Andrew was better in the foster homes), until he met Nicky and after his mother died of an overdose (and a strong argument between Nicky and Luther Hemmick in which the minor finally cut off all relationship with them), Nicky took Aaron's custody (with the help of another distant relative who did not agree with the method of raising of the Hemmick).

Andrew suffered physical and psychological abuse in the homes to which he was given, but was only sexually abused once by Drake Spear when he was thirteen, one year after he was adopted by that family; but on that occasion Drake was caught in the act by the very Cass Spear, who called the police directly.

Destroyed for having failed a child as wonderful and amazing as Andrew was, she moved some contacts to move Andrew to an adoption and help institute where a distant friend of Richard Spear, Betsy Dobson, worked as a psychologist. (And after two years of understanding, fighting and love, Andrew let Betsy finally adopt him).

So, now both twins and cousin are in the process of approaching with help from Betsy (poor of her, with Andrew antagonizing everyone, Aaron being scathing and Nicky very gaudy).

A few months later, and all three of them maintaining a more civilized relationship, Andrew was slightly coerced by Bee (again) to join the football team (which was a fucking trick because Betsy knows there are VERY few things that Andrew can deny her).

(At times, Aaron admits to himself that he feels somewhat jealous of Bee's close and loving way of being with Andrew; he would have loved to have someone like her nearby).

Andrew's expressionless face and slightly psychopathic behavior constantly intimidates the Foxes a bit (except Renee and Wymack, and sometimes Allison), but over time they get used to it.

Aaron does not even like football, but he was violently harassed by sportobsession!Kevin Day to be part of the team after having seen him wildly tackling a son of a bitch who tried to touch Neil Josten (And Nicky happily joined the team to not be alone).

Aaron have a thing with Neil Josten, everyone knows it (except Andrew, because he don't know about Josten).

The day that Andrew Minyard met Neil Josten was fucking memorable for Allison: it was on a type of team-building weekend organized by Dan and Wymack, that they somehow managed to reunite everyone including the twins and Seth (Bee and Abby were really happy).

Then as the day progressed and the afternoon fell, they decided to make a movie marathon in Abby's living room, but before they needed to recharge supplies, so Wymack asked Renee and Allison to take care of it; somehow the trip was joined by Andrew and Seth.

They arrived at 7/11 and set out to collect different types of snacks for everyone; then in one of the corridors Allison spotted a very familiar auburn hair, let out a small squeak of joy and ran over there, alerting Andrew and Renee that they thought there was some threat, only to see the blonde hugging wildly to a short guy.

After leaving the mysterious boy and letting him breathe, Seth also approached and released a sassy comment: 'look just who is here, if it is other than a whore vixen smartass'.

Before any Fox could say anything else, the unknown boy (for Andrew and Renee) counterattacked: 'what's up, drug addict? Have not you received your daily dose, that I notice you something cranky?’

Surprisingly, Seth only grined sideways and stretched out a hand to stir the hair of the boy under: 'how did you do in the competition, midget?'

The auburn boy reply to Seth: 'of course we won, Gordon; nobody compares to us, so I hope you Foxes do not leave us in bad during the season'.

In that Allison jumps and assures with conviction: 'clearly this is our season, Josten, we have two new members who are monsters in the field when they want; we will destroy the asshole of Riko'.

Josten only gave a small laugh at that and nodded in support; and that sound really caught Andrew's attention, that he looked up from the candy shelf to finally see the one who seemed to be friends with Gordon and Reynolds, being stunned.

'Shit,' was the first thought that went through Andrew's mind, followed by 'fucking gorgeous' and 'problem': in front of him was a boy a few inches taller than him, with auburn hair and impossibly blue eyes, like celestial ones. Beautiful. His left cheek had a slight pink burn of three circles, barely visible, and on his right he had three fine cuts; However, not a single one of those scars left any kind of beauty, not even remotely. Even though Andrew's face remained expressionless, an intense blush was staying on his cheeks as he detailed the impressive boy in front of him; he never had seen someone so painfully attractive like Josten.

Allison noticed it (Renee too, but she did not anything).

The blonde took the Vixen's forearm and pulled him closer to the group saying: 'Oh, right! You do not know Renee or Minyard, personally; You never could meet to meet my Renee and Minyard arrived when you were in the competition. Babe, Monster, he's Neil Josten, sub-captain of the Vixens.'

Renee introduced herself and greeted him kindly, curious about the times when his girlfriend talked to him about this boy, Andrew only blushed a little more when Neil looked directly at him but swerved off with a cutting: 'Cheerleader, really?'

Before Allison spoke, Neil responded quickly and sharp: 'What, I do not look like that? Then you'll have to excuse me, I forgot to put on my uniform skirt for you.'

The right corner of Andrew's mouth trembled (the closest thing to a smile that Renee had seen in him): 'so sassy, Vixen.'

A grin formed on Neil's lips: 'so, Andrew Minyard, I could say it's a pleasure to finally meet Aaron's twin, I've heard a lot of things from you'.

Andrew like: 'I bet were not good at all'.

Another short laugh came from Neil's lips: 'no, they were not, but they're still interesting'.

A thought was shared among the other three present in the scene, something like 'fucking weird flirting' (being kinder in Renee's head).

Andrew may only want to kick himself when he felt so trapped looking at Neil's fluffy lips.

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bigdudez · 7 years ago

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Innocent Game pt. 1

It started out pretty innocent. We were still in high school, so at the time we weren’t fully aware of what we were doing. His name was Nate. Obviously not really, but that’s what we’re calling him.

Nate and I had been friends since freshman year, but our social circles never intersected enough for us to get to know each other very well. It wasn’t until senior year when we had about 4 classes together we started to get to know each other very well.

Physically I had always been somewhat attracted to Nate, even if I never really thought about it. He had an adorable face, with a strong jawline and bushy eyebrows that outlined his strong features. He was one of the guys who always needed a shave, but even on the days he’d shaved that morning he had five o’clock shadow. Even back then he was tall, quite a bit taller than me. I hadn’t asked, but I figured he was about 6’0 or 6’1”. He had broad shoulders, thick arms and wide chest. The shirts he wore covered him, but always stretched at the arms and around his pecs. His legs were pretty meaty too, and even his neck was surprisingly huge. Apparently this was because he played a bunch of sports like football, wrestling, and lacrosse in the different seasons, so he worked out a lot. In addition to that he had a thick gut, not huge, but just enough to show through his shirt and drive me crazy. Thanks to the fact I’d always been into bigger guys, he was eye candy on top of being a fun dude to talk to during class.

We would mostly talk about school work in the beginning, but when we both found we had the same taste in music and sense of humor, we started to hang out during lunch and before school as well. As we got closer, I noticed myself gazing at him more and more. I liked how tight his sleeves fit, the way he filled out his jeans, and how his tummy was always visible through his shirt. He had this way of standing right up near me so that I couldn’t help but smell him, raising his arms while leaning on the wall to show off his hairy, sweaty armpits from his morning workouts. When he lifted up his arms like that, of course his midriff and belly button would show, along with his treasure trail. With his height he had to look right down at me to talk, and his smile was so pure and earnest I would feel myself blush whenever I made him laugh. It was pretty great, but somtimes it felt like torture.

We began a game one lunch, I don’t remember how we got on the topic, but we started talking about how much he seemed to always eat. At first he seemed a bit shy about it, but when I expressed how cool (but mostly hot) I thought it was, he seemed to relax about it. He even started to get cocky about it. That was when it really started, and it was kinda my fault. Well mostly, okay maybe like 90% my idea. At the time it was just to see if he would say yes.

“You should see if you could eat everything I feed you” I said with a smirk. He looked at me and chuckled with that adorable smile, but I just kept looking to show I was serious.

“Alright, lets do it little man.” He said, flexing, puffing out his chest and patting his gut. I knew he liked to eat and show off, but this was going to get me hard in the cafeteria if I wasn’t careful. Somehow my suggestion had brought out a weirdly cocky side to him I had never seen.

I went into the lunch line again and came back with two trays. The lunch lady had given me a slightly confused look, but ultimately said nothing as I paid. On each of the trays there was a serving of pasta, cheesy bread, milk carton, and a pudding cup. This wasn’t actually much of a challenge, so I went to extra mile to buy a large bag of chips.

Knowing this still probably wouldn’t be enough, an evil idea crept into my mind.

***

“What took so long? Jeez I’m only gonna have like 15 minutes to eat whatever you brought.” He said impatiently when I returned. I just silently smiled at him and set down the trays. He looked at them and smirked back.

“Is that it? Thought this was supposed to be hard or something” he said, laughing and grabbing the plastic fork from one of the trays. He immediatly started to chow down and was making good progress. The pasta from both trays was gone within a few minutes, and the bread and pudding soon followed. The chips took a little longer, but in the end he ate them all too. When he got to the milk he popped open the cartons and downed them both within 30 seconds. The entire time I was struggled to sit still, partly because I found suprisingly cute stuffing his face like that, but also because I couldn’t wait to reveal my suprise.

“UUURP! Well, done with no problem” he said with a wide smile.

“Here, for good measure,” he said, picking up one of the trays and actually licking it clean of the sauce and grease from the pasta. I thought I was going to loose it for a minute there. Then he picked up the other tray and did the same thing.

“Well, admit it. I won easily,” and patted his stomach. Bloated a bit, and I wished more than anything to reach out and rub it. But I had one more trick.

“Hold on, we said whatever I gave you to eat, and I still have one thing left,” I said with the most evil smile I’ve ever given. I grabbed a bottle from behind me, but not just any bottle. A two gallon bottle filled with water.

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait, Nono. First of all, this was an agreement over food, not water. Secondly, we’ve only got like 5 minutes left, and I’d throw up if I tried to chug that thing. Third, where the hell did you get that.” He questioned, looking fairly queasy all of a sudden.

“Actually, you already drank the milk cartons, and I already added some water flavoring so that part is invalid. Secondly you’re the one who said he would eat everything by the end of lunch so that’s on you. Thirdly I told one of the football guys you wanted to borrow one for practice, and he had and extra if you can believe it. So what’s it gonna be?” I asked challengingly.

I wasn’t sure if he would go with it, but he just stood up, looked me dead in the eye, popped of the cap, and started chugging. It was when he stood up that people noticed. Most people ignored it until he actually started to make progress. Not even stopping to take a breath, he kept chugging that bottle. As he went on he definitely started to look queasy, but after he had half of it drained people around us actually started to cheer. The whole time I’m not sure if he even noticed, because he never broke eyecontact with me. It was exciting, but also kind of terrifying. His dark brown eyes were like daggers into my soul, and in three more heavy gulps he was done. Almost the entire 5 tables around us all applauded and cheered, even if it was in a sarcastic way. He sat down after that, looking seriously bloated. His stomach was most definitely sticking out more than it had been a 15 minutes ago.

“UUURP!” He let out a wet sounding burp and covered his mouth, like he was about to hurl.

“Shoot, okay you know what, I’m sorry about that. That was just mean of me, bad idea. Are you good dude?” I asked concerned, and genuinely unsure if he would throw up, “Wanna go to the bathroom or the nurse?”

“Nah I’m good. Thanks though,” he said standing. He was a little wobbly, but his gut was defiantly bigger than before. He didn’t quite seem alright, but the way he was rubbing his gut with his big hands made me loose my focus.

“Honestly that was pretty fun dude. It hurts now but man, in the moment it felt almost hot.” He said, I figured he was messing with me, and when I looked up to study his expression he started chuckling.

“Don’t worry yeah I was kidding,” he said, “although I’m gonna piss like a fucking fountain later today.”

We walked off to our next class, which was one we didn’t have together. The whole time taking notes in class I was pretty hot and bothered by the image of Nate’s gut sticking out like that. The way his arm flexed while holding up that bottle. I felt bad that I had used him that way, but damn his shirt had gotten so much tighter in such a small amount of time. It got me thinking about the possibilities.

“Crap I should stop now. Maybe I should go for a walk to take my mind off it,” I thought to myself. After our teacher got through the notes, i finished the inclass worksheet we were assigned . With nothing else to do to take my mind off it, I asked to go to the bathroom to kill some time.

When I walked in I saw a familiar haircut from the back, with Nate of course standing at the urinal.

“Nate, how are you? You seemed pretty queasy after lunch,” I said, trying to gauge if he was angry with me at all.

“I’m alright dude. No worries, the only thing is I’ve been pissing for like two minutes already and I haven’t let up yet.” He said, looking back at me with that smile.

I listened to the sound of a strong stream hitting the side of the urinal, doing my best not to look like I was looking.

“Oh damn. How much longer do you think you can keep it up?” I asked, mostly just intrigued by the thought of him holding himself.

“Not sure, but probably for a while still, I feel like the tanks still pretty full,” he said as he shook himself up and down a bit to adjust.

The incredible thing was is that he was right. The stream went on strong for another few minutes, and even as it died down it still kept going for at least another 2. I wasn’t quite sure why, but I found it somewhat hot.

“Damn that took forever, but wow did I need to piss,” he said relaxing, leaning his head back a bit to smile at me.

“Holy crap Nate that was at least like 5 minutes! Jesus have you not used the toilet at all before this!?” I asked, amazed at how long he had gone.

“No I guess not, but when you gotta go you gotta go,” he replied, shaking himself off and zipping up his fly. He went over to wash his hands, and wiped them on his shirt.

“Damn though man, my gut feels stretched super high still,” he said rubbing it, “you gotta feel this man!” He said, going right up to me in the dominating way he did. Suddenly he was grabbing my hands and pushing them into his stomach. It was rock solid, the fabric was stretched tight, and it felt like his skin was too. It was too much, and I felt overstimulated with desire. I had to get out before I did something would regret.

“Yeah, damn, tight. Look I’ve been gone a while better get back to class,” and I ran out the bathroom door and back to class, kicking myself for bailing so quickly.

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nyabi132-blog · 7 years ago

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Unique Artist

Okay this is my first ROTG fanfiction, and well it’s not a prompt just something I thought of, and I love winter (even if I can’t go outside and play in the snow). It’s so pretty and I just love it so much.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Rise of the Guardians (not sure if I need this here, but just in case)

Jack has travelled a lot in his 300 years of impromptu isolation. He had the Wind to fly him any place it wanted to take him. He never cared where he went. He just let the Wind take him wherever he needed to go and spread a little snow. It wasn’t like he had any obligations anyway, his schedule was always free. So wherever Jack needed to spread his snowdays, the wind would take him there. He often circled the globe to do his rounds of said snow spreading, routes of which were agreed upon by the other three seasonal spirits.

Despite popular belief, they actually didn’t bother each other much. That isn’t to say they liked each other, but they had a respect for each other's work, because they had similar jobs, and did their seasonal bidding where it made sense. For example, the spirit of summer wouldn’t make it hot in the Himalayas and the spirit of winter wouldn’t make it snow in July, unless it was supposed to snow in certain areas. They wouldn’t get in each other’s way and if they happened to cross paths, they wouldn’t even blink at the other’s direction. Just keep going. It was pointless to fight, they were immortal anyway and they sort of needed one another to flow into the seasons correctly. Plus they all had their own ways of knowing where their magic needed to be spread, weather it be the clouds or the wind. They understood that sometimes their fellow seasonals had reasons for what they did where they did it. They weren’t so gung ho about their seasons that they’d hurt one another for it. So they would accept the rare occasion of snow in mid fall or a bit of heat in December.

Anyway, Jack spread winter and snow all over the world for a very long time. He’s seen almost every place there is to see. From snowy tundras, to deserts. Although he only passes through those at night, he can’t really take too much heat. All the natural landscapes were beautiful. Flowers and sunsets, and the night sky with all the twinkling stars. From silver linings to the sun hitting a glacier or the water or even his ice just right.

Not only that, but he also has seen modern culture develop. People were forever changing, and technology was evolving. As the years progressed, bigger and more modernized buildings and inventions were made. Watching cities be built and people go about their different lives. It’s amazing how none of them ever did the same exact thing everyday and a routine would never once be repeated exactly. There was always something different.

Just like two snowflakes were ever the same.

With so many references there never would be two of the same kind of snowflake. It was impossible for Jack to think of the same thing twice when he thought about one topic it would flurry into a billion things that associated with it.

Jack loved drawing them too, albeit he never had the time to make every little snowflake, just the ones he likes most. He’d draw them in the frost on a window or in a little never ending notebook he kept in his hoodie pocket. He’d never put words to the snowflake, because the drawing was enough. It was unique and it told exactly what or whom it was based off of.

It was also a way to spend the summer months when snow wasn’t often needed or when he just had nothing to do and was bored. He’d draw whatever was on his mind into a snowflake. It was a good way of remaining positive, or at least not brooding about his seemingly sempiternal loneliness.

It became like a habit more than a hobby. As a winter spirit he was supposed to be cold and emotionless. Jack was a bit wayward though. He wasn’t so much cold and emotionless as he was fun and mischievous. But it wasn’t often that he expressed deep emotions with anyone, it was just his nature. But there were tell-tale signs of what he was actually feeling and people who knew him knew what they were. Like when he was bored he’d draw snowflakes.

But no one really knew him.

So when he was at the North Pole with nothing to do, because he’d already pranked the yetis one too many times today, and froze a bit too many elves for Phil’s liking - even though sometimes he was grateful for not having to deal with those delusional imbeciles. He was sent to an area in the globe room as to not disturb anyone and to wait for North.

It was late spring and he didn’t have much to do, and he didn’t want to be in a hot place, so North decided that he should come to the work shop and just relax there for a while. Keyword: decided. Jack really didn’t have a choice.

But the big man was now working on toys leaving Jack to his devices. Which didn’t turn out to be such a good idea, because it left many toys to be broken. Not enough to set the ever busy yetis behind schedule, but enough to have North reinforce punishment. North was not going to act like a parent, though he should, he never did. Jack was 300 years old and capable of taking care of himself, but when it came to his own work, he felt it acceptable to lay down some rules. Even if he secretly did find some pranks funny, if he messed up the work by accident consequences would be reinforced to make sure it didn’t happen again.

He sat at the window sill and absently frosting the window beside him deciding to make another base snowflake. He sketched on the window sill and his frost made it fairly easy to erase and he made multiple angles in different patches of frost. He didn’t know what he was drawing but he’d know once he finished. When he finished a rough sketch on the windowsill, he transferred it to his never ending notebook so he could add details. Every so often trying the designs on the windows first, as to avoid most eraser marks on the paper.

He didn’t get to finish because he felt someone walk into the area he was currently occupying and he turned around. But instead of a large Russian, or fury beast, there was an anthropomorphic rabbit. That threw Jack a bit for a loop, but he guessed it wasn’t unnatural to see the rabbit here. It was a few weeks after Easter, and he could sometimes find the bunny hanging around North’s workshop for insight with his fellow guardian.

“Hey Bunny. What’s up?” Jack greeted casually and letting his notebook slip between him and the windowsill absently.

“I‘m ‘ere on b’half o’ North, ya gumby.” the rabbit said crossing his arms and standing a bit taller.

“ But it’s May. North can’t be busy.” Jack said and cocked his head in a curious jester.

“Do ya know how many toys ya broke, Frostbite?” Bunny continued ignoring Jack. So that’s what this was about. It was really not a big deal. He hadn’t seen the Russian after the incident, but he figured on of his furry helpers told him. Bunny must have been there when he did and when North decided to blow it off like he’d normally do, Bunny didn’t like it. The rabbit always had a way of staying on track, no matter what. North wouldn’t do anything in this situation, but Bunny would.

“As I said it’s May. It doesn’t matter now.” Jack said and nodded his head as if agreeing with himself and started to focus his attention back on his highly detailed snowflake. Though he missed Bunny’s indigent stare.

“That ain’t the problem.” Bunny hopped a few steps forward. He wasn’t even sure that Jack was listening to him. “Ya could’ve set ‘im behind schedule.”

“And if I did, why isn’t he the one telling me off?” Jack asked not looking up from his notebook. Bunny let his ears flatten against his head. Bunny swore he acted more like a 15 year old then a 317 year old.

“But what if it did? ‘e’d ‘ave ta fix the error and couldn’t come ‘ere ta tell ya off.” Bunny reasoned.

“It’s May.” Jack said again but distantly and half heartedly, he’d make this line just right- And just like that his notebook was yanked away by a furry paw.

“Hey!” he said and looked at the irritated bunny, “ I was doing something!” he said and stood up and grabbed his staff that was leaning against the wall and glared at the rabbit.

“Fer ye’re season?” The rabbits asked in a neutral voice.

“Well yeah, sort of.” Jack said like it was obvious. It really wasn’t, but he’s been working on that snowflake for well over an hour dammit. It’s not like it mattered though. No one actually cared what they looked like, it was just him who’d ever know what they truly looked like and represented. Bunny wasn’t ruining anything but his pride. And one and a half hours of drawing.

“Did I mess you up?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Why are ya so mad. It’s only May.” That made Jack stop. Bunny was trying to prove a point. And he did. Jack suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“Okay, you proved your point. But I doubt North would want any of my help, I would offer it, but I’d probably make it worse. Then he’d really be behind. And for the record the season could’ve went on without that.” Jack said and Bunny raise a brow and looked at the book. “I mean I don’t need it, but I’m not finished yet so can I have it back.” Jack said rather then asked. He knew bunny would give it back. He wasn’t really paying attention to what the rabbit was doing as he turned back to the window sill.

“Are these snowflakes, Frostbite?” the rabbit asked and Jack swung around seeing Bunny flip through the pages of the incredibly detailed designs. Bunny would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, though he wouldn’t admit to any kind of talent, beside freezing stuff, the kid had. The detail in each one was insane. He looked up and the frost teen shrugged.

“I got bored.” the rabbit looked at him more which made him slightly uncomfortable. “It’s really nothing.” Then the rabbit spotted the planning in frost behind the winter spirit. In the temperatures at the North pole it wasn’t unbelievable that the frost stayed longer than usual.

“Fer nothing, it sure took a ton o’ planning, mate.” Bunny said matter of factly gesturing his head to the frost pictures behind him.

“I just didn’t want to get smudges on the paper.” Jack said because it was the truth. His lack of urgency made it easy to believe. Still deep down he was embarrassed someone had seen his private collection of ‘special snowflakes’.

“These are pretty detailed too. Must’ve taken some effort.” the rabbit raised a brow. It was pretty interesting, Jack’s comebacks weren’t as snarky as before. He wanted to see where this went.

Jack only shrugged “Not really. They aren’t really anything like yours or Norths.” Then Jack laughed a little, but there was no bitterness to it, or maybe a little. “Heck, no one even seems to care how they look.” There was some silence between the two for a bit then.

“North would take ya.” Bunny said, and it through Jack for a loop.

“Huh?” was all he could answer with a surprised and curious blick.

“North would like ye’re designs, mate.” Bunny rephrased “So do I.” he smirked at the shocked and disbelieving stare the frost teen was giving him. It was priceless seeing the usually carefree but guarded face so not.

“Wha- You don’t- it’s not-” If Bunny wasn’t getting a kick out of this before he sure was now. See the gracefully smug winter spirit trip over his words was a sight, and a funny one to someone who had a relationship with him like Bunny. He started to laugh and clutching his stomach.

“Wha? Bunny stop laughing! That was a joke right?” Bunny’s laughing died a bit after a while. He looked at the frost teen who had his eyes cast to the side. “You and North… wouldn’t really..?” He mumbled off the rest, but Bunny knew where it was going. In the three years he’s known the winter spirit - and like really known him - he could tell when a few things were off. But Bunny wasn’t much of a comforter, that wasn’t his type. So he tapped his foot twice and a rabbit hole opened beneath Jack and the unsuspecting teen fell through, he heard the indigent gasp and rolled his eyes with a smirk Bunny let himself fall through too.

When they emerged through the hole into the warren Jack seemed to have caught his balance again and gracefully landed on his staff balancing on the hook part.

“What was that for kangaroo?” Jack asked looking at the rabbit who just grabbed him by the hood and ignored the protests and threats of being frozen. He was finally placed down near the paintriver under a shady tree and there were paint brushes in a jar with some paints around it.

“What the heck! Why are we here?” Jack said head and eyes following the rabbit from his place on the grass as he sat next to him and Jack continued to glare at him.

“Would’ja quit complain’en, Frostbite.” the anthropomorphic rabbit said irritably and Jack promptly shut up. Bunny looked around for a second and picked up an egg. As he turned around Jack looked at him with an unamused look, which grew curious when the egg was placed in his hand. He looked back up at Bunny. “The paint brushes ‘re there an’ ys can use the paint river fer the colours you need and ya can mix it ‘ere.” The rabbit put a pallet in his hand that wasn’t holding the egg and pointed to the other materials and then sat down and picked up his own egg to start painting.

Jack’s face turned back to the unamused look and waited for Bunny to look up again.

“Somethin’ wrong, mate?” Bunny looked confused and raised a brow at the frost teen.

“Why are we here? What is this?” Jack said trying to keep his voice down which he had success in but the place where he was sitting was starting to frost over and it expanded.

“Snowflake, ye’re frosting the grass.” Bunny felt the need to point out and smirk.

“Okay, I’m upset. But you threw me down a hole and gave me a pallet and an egg with no context!” He didn’t like telling Bunny his emotions but there was no other way for the rabbit to know. It might’ve not been a big deal, but Jack didn’t like people knowing when he was upset when it actually mattered, because when it mattered the most it would just make others pity him and be upset that they wouldn’t know how to fix it. When it was trivial matters like this, he didn’t mind. He liked to think this was the worst of his problems, but it wasn’t and they both knew that. But they’d pretend for as long as they could.

“There ain’t no context needed, Snowflake.” Bunny smirked and went back to his egg. “Jus’ paint an egg.” Bunny paused to think for a second “Fer North.” he added

“North’s not upset.” Jack groaned.

“Okay, fer me.” Bunny said not looking up from his egg.

“Why would you be upset?” Jack asked irritably.

“Why does someone ‘ave to be upset fer ya ta do yer told?” if you listened closely you could hear the hint of exasperation.

“They don’t I just don’t see the point in this.” Jack mumbled. But they both knew the real reason, or at least Bunny did. Jack didn’t want anyone to be upset. He was the guardian of fun so obviously if no one was upset or sad he didn’t have anything to work with. Bunny understood that.

“‘kay, I’m upset yer talent’s ‘re wastin’ away in tha’ notebook no one’s gonna see.” Bunny said and Jack looked away a little and Bunny sighed. “Jus’ paint an egg.”

“Just one egg?”

“Yeah, jus’ one.” Bunny agreed. And Jack picked up the paintbrush and started to paint. He decided to draw all the snowflakes that came to mind. Not anything special just to get it over with. He ambraid the background in blues, getting lighter as it went up and then in a darker blue and medium blue and white he painted snowflakes and as the background got lighter the snowflakes got small until about halfway up the egg they completely disappeared. They were fairly simple snowflakes, ones he could draw in seconds but none of them looked the same.

“There.” he showed the egg to the Easter Bunny himself and he smiled a little.

“Not bad, Frostbite.” Bunny smirked.

“Well, I told you I wasn’t good. It’s on you that you wasted one of your eggs.” Jack justified before he could be accused.

“I said they were good.” Bunny said with a bit of amusment.

“You said they weren’t bad.” Jack shot back.

“Which means they were good.”

“No.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“No it’s not.”

Bunny rolled his eyes. “Listen, ye’re good at this.” Bunny got up and walked over to Jack and knelt beside him. “And people may not see ye’re snowflakes, but they aren’t any less pretty, Frostbite.” He handed back the notebook he’d taken earlier and went back to his spot. “Ye’re allowed ta stay and paint more.” Bunny said not looking at Jack and grabbing the egg he was working on instead.

And Jack did stay.

So yeah that’s that! Snowflakes are really really detailed and they are so small. People don’t appreciate how different they are, and in that sense snowflakes are just like people, and that’s cheesy because we’re all different. But also snowflakes are like everyday, that’s confusing but like think about it. Everyday you do something different, even if it’s a routine, something is always different. So each day is like a snowflake. Unique.

#rise of the guardians #rotg #snowflake #jack frost #bunnymund #north #phil

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