#and the EMOTIONAL support water bottle strikes again!

[stromer]

he’s so tiny and happy !!!!

[glittter-vamp]

https://www.instagram.com/stories/rvtherj/3355110702022326193?utm_source=ig_story_item_share&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Not the comfort water bottle lol

Emotional support water bottle strikes again 😂

[qierxing]

Tipsy Spells

A/N: Drabbles based on drinking prompts for a warm up.  Yan! LaDs x Reader TW/CW: Implied confinement/captivity, obsessive behavior, drinking problems(so many drinking problems), unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional manipulation, dub//con, unhealthy relationships, co-dependent behavior, unbalanced power dynamics

—

Xavier/Shen Xinghui

Xavier doesn’t have many rules in his apartment.

He lets you eat whatever. Books, TV, games, and even more are open for your entertainment. There’s no limit to what you do, so long as you’re not endangering yourself. It’s almost…normal. As normal as you can get when you’re under a sociopathic captor. 

So when you open up the shopping bags Xavier went out to get, you’re rather disappointed.

“Really? Beer?” Holding up the bottle from the bag, you glare at Xavier balefully. “When you said you were going to get something ‘special’, I hoped you would, you know, get something stronger?”

Xavier gives you his signature innocent look while putting away some ingredients from the other bag. “I thought you liked beer though.”

You did. But living with Xavier has been terribly dull and grating. If it meant some reprieve, you’d rather not be sober.

“Can’t you get some huangjiu at least?” you plead.

Xavier looks at the digital clock above the stove. Nearly one in the morning. “I think the supermarket nearby is closed now.”

You groan. Giving up, you open a drawer and retrieve a bottle opener and crack the beer open. At this point, you’ll take what you can. Anything to not feel like clawing your eyes out from hysteria or boredom, whichever the two strikes your mood first.

Xavier follows you out the kitchen into his living room as you slump into the cushions of the couch, chugging the bottle. You protest as he takes the bottle from your hands.

“Hey!!”

“Don’t drink too fast. You’ll end up feeling sick,” he softly says. You roll your eyes and huff. After a moment, he gives you back the bottle.

“It’s not like there’s much anyway,” you mutter reproachfully. 

And it’s true. The second time you lift the bottle up to your lips, there only remains several spoons of liquid that goes down your throat. By the time it trickles to several drops, you start to feel the whoozy effect of the alcohol in your system. Not strong enough to really do anything, but just enough to make your tight shoulders relax.

You barely register Xavier taking the bottle again and setting it on the coffee table. When he winds a warm arm around you, you don’t protest. You’re too tired to fight. And it would only result in being banned from going outside again.

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.” 

Maybe you could get yourself to fall asleep midway.

Zayne/Li Shen

When he came home late that night, he expected you to be sleeping. This, however, was not entirely surprising. 

You’ve been behaving so well, he’s forgotten about how you were prone to being susceptible to easy and unhealthy escapes. 

You’re on the floor leaning against the slanting open doors, nursing a bottle of vintage port wine. Several other empty bottles litter the floor; sauvignon blancs, rosés, and various other kinds of wine he never bothered to open. He’s never been one to drink, but gifts were gifts, and it felt like a waste to throw them away.

He wants to scold you for breaking into the wine cabinet again, but he supposes it won’t register in your foggy mind right now.

“My love,” he says softly, kneeling down and wrapping a solid arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get you some water.”

Your glazed eyes slide over and it takes a minute for them to process Zayne in his doctor’s coat. 

“Shaddup…” your face pinches into a sour expression, and his heart freezes at the sight. Your head lolls to the side unsteadily over his supporting arm and you click your tongue. 

“You–you’re sucha, ahh, ah party pooper, ya–y’know?” Your words slur together in a loopy insult. He hasn’t seen you this drunk in a while.

“Let’s get you some water,” Zayne repeats, more firmly this time. He works to release your death grip on the glass bottle, but you fight him every step of the way.

“S-stop, stop that, Li Shen,” you garble in distress. He pauses in surprise at the once affectionate name in your voice. “I don’t wanna feel…if I can’t drink, then I-I, it, ah, it starts to hurt so much...” you giggle, as your cloudy eyes look up at him brimming with wetness. “It hurts so much…I just, just–don’t wanna hurt anymore.”

He swipes a gentle finger under your eyes, catching the tears and flicking them away. Zayne knew everyone had their lapses, but this time in particular made his heart ache.

Of course, you didn’t take to being resigned from your job and brought under his care. Even if he devoted every bit of his body and love, it seemed it wouldn’t be enough to bring back the love you used to hold in your heart.

Zayne decides to leave the bottle and bring your slumped body up into a chair instead. By the time he brings you a glass of water, you’ve already finished the bottle and planted face down onto the kitchen table. 

Puffing out a worried sigh, Zayne rakes his fingers through the messy tangle of his dark hair before setting down the glass and reaching for some painkillers. 

Come tomorrow morning, you’ll awake with a pounding headache and queasy nausea, and he’ll be by your side, even if you’re reluctant to rely on him. But no matter how much you cry and struggle, Zayne couldn’t give you up anymore. Not when he couldn’t go on without you. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” as he presses a kiss to your limp hand. “I can’t let you go.”

Rafayel/Qi Yu

Rafayel is an interesting kind of drunk.

You suppose it’s a combination of the Lemurian blood and his passionate, artistic soul. For anyone else, it would either induce sleepiness or giddiness. For Rafayel? The end result is a highly unstable, ludicrously stupid merman who thinks that nothing else matters but you.

Granted, he already had this mentality while sober, but while imbibed with alcohol, the effect was more pronounced and obvious.

“I looove youuuu, like,” Rafayel hiccups, pausing his proclamation. “-like, thiiiiiiis much~” He opens his arms wide in a flourish as if he was in front of an applauding audience. 

You only hum in acknowledgement as you swipe his glass of baijiu out of his hand. Rafayel whines, but ultimately gives up retrieving his glass back when you finish the rest of the liquor inside. Setting down the crystal glass as gently as you can, you sway unsteadily as you land back on the couch cushions. 

“I love you when you’re drunk,” you admit shamelessly. “At least you’re less annoying that way.”

If Rafayel had been sober, that statement might have ended another few nights being forbidden from stepping outside the studio, more bite marks littering your skin, or forced to beg for your clothes back. But he isn’t sober. Instead, he giggles loudly, as if you just told him the funniest joke in the world.

“You’re sooooo mean,” he gasps. He giggles again. “But it’s okay! You’re still cute as ever~”

You briefly wonder if you could get away with strangling him to death. The thought is dismissed when he starts to cling to you. You forgot that unfortunately, while his senses may be clouded, his innate strength was most certainly not.

Despite your best(while drunk) efforts, Rafayel’s arms remain tight around your waist, his face buried into your stomach. You click your tongue in annoyance.

“Qi Yu.”

No response.

“Qi Yu, get off me.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Then a loud snore echoes and air is blown directly onto your stomach. 

Maybe you can try seeing if you could get him by suffocation.

Sylus/Qin Che

Formal dinners don’t make you nervous.

What did make you nervous is the very man who invited you to his grand dining room.

The head honcho of Onychinus. And N109’s ticking time bomb.

You don’t like the man. Call it paranoia, intimidation, or anxiety, you simply do not like him. He’s a towering sort of brute with appropriately broad shoulders and height that makes heads either turn or bow instinctively. His eyes, you shudder, makes you think of hellfire, brimstone, and all sorts of terrifying things. People have whispered of those who have been buried under his hand. 

You don’t want to be next.

But, business is business, and information is information.

“Does the bourbon suit your taste?” Sylus asks with an amused arch of his eyebrow.

You smile uneasily as you take a sip, bittersweet tones of chocolate burning your throat and all the way down to your stomach. “Surely you’re not bribing me with liquor to figure out what I know?” 

“I take offense at that, sweetie.” You stiffen at the affectionate pet name. The fondness dripping from his tone leaks disgustingly over your skin. “I’m sure you know I have my own ways of getting what I want.”

You hide an annoyed grimace with the glass as you take another sip. “Then, how may I help you, sir? I only broker info and nothing else.”

“By being mine.” 

The response is so ridiculous that you can only stare. It takes too long for you to come back to your senses. Your smile strains your taut cheeks.

“Very funny joke, sir.”

“Oh, but it’s not.”

Your smile fades as you feel two presences behind you. You grip the glass tightly. Before you can even move, Sylus clicks his tongue in a patronizing way.

“Don’t even try it, sweet thing.” He smirks. “I don’t want to use force if you don’t cooperate.”

You loosen your grip.

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper. You’re only one among thousands of other info brokers in N109 zone. And even more so, you’ve been on the outer edges like an outcast compared to other highly sought people. 

Instead of answering, he simply holds out the bourbon bottle with a genuine smile that sends shivers down your neck.

“I simply have a taste for fine things, and you, my dear, are one of them.”

[the-cash-cache]

The Goblin Market: the weirdest and most colorful cast of merchants you’ll ever meet!

Picture it: Sicily, 1922 my desk, 2023. I have just gotten back from a raucous day on the town, and am relaxing with my emotional support water bottle while browsing the internet in a sleep-deprived reverie. My mind wanders the dimly flashing streets of neural pathways, before being struck by the Truck of Realization that I have been derelict in my duty of talking about amazing ttrpg stuff!

I’ve talked about the Certified TERF Hated collection of NPCs The Goblin Market by my good friend @europaprisonmoon before here, and I believe it’s worth talking about again!

I’ll start off with this description from the itch.io page itself which perfectly encapsulates the colorful array of characters your party can meet:

The Goblin Market is a system agnostic collection of over fifty merchants, monsters and even stranger things which can be dropped into your campaign to add weirdness and magic for your players: retired river gods, escaped nightmares, tea merchants, wicker basket mechs, predatory graves, vengeful dragons seeking to raise an army to defeat tyrannical princesses, off-duty demons, magical roboticists, mystery cults, accidentally immortal witches, and many more. 

This supplement is a treat to read, with Tryphosa Tucker Thimbling capturing my heart and mind from the moment I met her! A milliner with “fur like the finest humus” and piebald donkey ears adorned with beautiful golden bells, Tryphosa loves tea - of the drink and gossip varieties. Have you ever felt your PC was missing something? Some critical aspect leaving them sorely lacking? It is obviously that they need a hat from Tryphosa! Turn heads with a cap made of fantastical materials; you’ll never have to worry again about entering a bar/saloon/communal watering hole and facing someone with the same hat as you.

If for whatever reason Tryphosa doesn’t strike your fancy, why not a quartet of large albino rats joined at the tails? The Quartet (or was it once The Quintet?) sells uncandles, a perfect gift for the brooding rogue in your party! Fashioned from shadows and darkness, the uncandles will bring a comfortable gloom to any room.

Best of all, The Goblin Market is on sale for just under $8 until July 13th! That’s less than 16 cents per NPC. The NPCs are connected to each other, so you can throw as many or as few into your game, and you’ll never be at a loss for people your players can talk to!

[lokiskitten]

Hello. I was wondering if you could do a president loki imagine where the reader rescues him from the chaotic lokis' fight abd takes care of his wounds.

President Loki | giving you a hand

President Loki x fem!reader

plot : you gained the habit of scavenging throughout the void. After managing to make your way within Kid Loki’s former habitat in hopes to find supplies, you stumble upon corpses out of which one remains alive.

warnings : none really, just mention of wounds and whatever goes along.

Sliding down the ladder which would hopefully lead you to an entry full of supplies, you remained discreet in case someone still lived within this seemingly abandoned pit. Your feet landed on the dirty floor covered in random rugs, your silhouette soon appearing inside of the bunker’s living area. You felt shocked and surprised to stumble upon such a chaotic sight- multiple corpses laying on the floor of this suspicious habitat. The horrible smell easily led you to cover your nose with your sleeve- allowing you to guess that these people had probably died a couple of hours, or days ago now. However, through this incomprehensible mess, weak groans were soon to catch your attention. You followed the sound which forced you to travel throughout the room, body ending up face to face with the cause to those parasite noises.

It was a man dressed in a fancy suit which appeared degraded, his raven hair covering most of his face though his parted lips remained visible. One of his hands rested onto his stomach, and your eyes seeking for the second one ended up gifting you with the horrific sight that was his forearm ending at the level of his wrist. “Oh my god..” you whispered to yourself, orbs going back to the stranger’s face. You could tell he had lost a lot of blood already, and that there was no time to loose if you wanted to have a chance to save his life. Without hesitation, you bent over and wrapped your hands underneath his clothed armpits, groans escaping your lips due to the great effort that was dragging an adult male across the room whilst still having to avoid the other corpses.

After reaching for a more calm and organized part of the bunker, you let go of your finding before crouching down in order to move his hair out of his face. He had stopped groaning, which could only strike worry within your heart. Gasping softly, your first reflex was to take your backpack off your shoulders before reaching inside for the bandaids and other pharmacy supplies you’ve been putting to the side for your own personal use. His wrist was obviously the first wound which was meant to be taken care of- and that urgently if you didn’t want to have your patient pass away before your bare eyes. Without feeling disgusted one bit, you started with cleaning the wound before you could wrap a tight bandage around the man’s injured member.

You preyed to god that it wasn’t too late, as you wouldn’t ever manage to forgive yourself for not being able to save this man in time. You didn’t want to have him die in your presence, and you were willing to do lots to make sure it wouldn’t happen. The next step consisted in removing the broken crown which adorned his head in order to reach for the cuts on his face. You could tell that a rather tough fight had probably settled within this bunker, yet it would’ve been hard to guess the reasons to it on your own. If this stranger was ever to wake up, you wouldn’t hold back from requesting a few explanations. Out of all these men, he was the only one who had managed to remain alive. This detail also stroke curiosity within your soul. Had he played dead? Had he fought until the last second and won? So many potential answers.

It took you a great hour to take care of all of this stranger’s issues, bandaids covering his face as the bandage on his wrist appeared to hold back bleeding from occurring. You gasped just so gently, orbs taking time to stare at his handsome complexions for the first time since you had stumbled upon him. He was just your type. However, you were soon to focus back onto the real issue : having him wake up, and that only if he remained alive. Through the time spent here, you had grown wiser and now knew about multiple survival technics. You took ahold of your water bottle and opened it, moving it towards the man’s parted lips before allowing the liquid to flow down into his mouth- and that as carefully as you could to make sure he wouldn’t end up choking on the water.

Thankfully, you watched in bliss as his jaw began to move, throat taking in the water and swallowing it down. You took the bottle away from his lips, leaving him a moment to get over this first sip though you remained ready to offer him some more if he was ever to request it. Humming gently, Loki ended up finally opening his eyes- irises shrinking upon being exposed to light again. He blinked a couple of times, allowing his sensitive blue orbs to get used to the shiny ambiance before his head finally turned towards yours. He appeared confused and surprised, his brain having a hard time linking the latest moment he lived- which consisted in having his head smashed against a popcorn machine- to the sight of you. Thankfully, his current state held him back from being a threat to you.

Loki attempted to lift himself up, only to end up groaning in pain as his wrist pressed against the hard floor. Apparently, he had forgotten about this little incident. “Try not to move. It could damage the bandage.” You informed empathetically, earning a death stare from the god of mischief. Maybe it was part of his agressive nature, but Loki probably felt ashamed to realize that he had just been rescued by a female. “Who the bloody hell are you?” He asked whilst laying back down, trying his best to keep up his usually evil character. You felt rather offended by his tough and ungrateful behavior. “I’m y/n, and I...” you began, hand reaching down to his wrist in order to fix the bandage. You tightened it, and he groaned. “... just saved your life.” You finished casually, smiling down at the bratty man.

The god of mischief rolled his eyes, now moving his wrist away from your reach to make sure you wouldn’t be able to touch it again. He continued to glare at you, as if you were some kind of threat more than you remained the person who had just gotten him out of this mess. “Water?” You offered, showing Loki the bottle with a smile pictured on your features. It took him a couple of seconds to get over his egocentric self, and he finally ended up agreeing with the help of a nod. Once again, you brought the bottle to his lips before allowing the liquid to slowly flow inside of his mouth. He swallowed the water and passed his tongue over his dry lips, blue eyes diverting towards your face for a second before he finally decided to make an effort.

“Thank you.” The god spoke lowly, earning a grin from your satisfied self. “Sounds more like it.” You responded whilst stuffing your water bottle down your bag, making sure to zip it back sealed before putting it to the side. Loki appeared offended still, but you knew that with time and patience, you two would manage to get along- especially as his life still depended on you. Only you could provide him proper, hygienic care, as well as emotional support through what you could assume was the loss of all the people he once new.

I felt rather hesitant when I first received this request, but turns out I had a lot of fun writing it! I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did.

[3rdgymbros]

— title; i will love you if i never see you again.

— pairing; diluc ragnvindr x ancestor! reader (platonic)

— summary; in which you’re diluc’s ancestor, and it’s after saving him that you realise that he bears a striking resemblance to your former lover, and you ache.  

— notes; the red-haired warrior referenced in the fic has no official name, so i made one up !! this is also dedicated to @starfell-traveler​ for helping me in co-op !!

“Who are you?”

You know that voice. It sends shivers down your spine and sets your heart racing, fills you with hope you haven’t felt in a decade. You know it’s impossible, but you would recognize that voice anywhere.

The man slumped against the wall is pale, so pale, that the blood painting his side seems so violently red in comparison. The man has your lover’s face, as well as his voice, the same vibrant eyes and round cheeks and full mouth. The same tall, reedy frame. The same untamable mess of scarlet hair that he used to let you braid, woven with fragrant white Cecilias.

You want to cry out, to run to him, but you understand that it isn’t him. You know this. You held his hand as you watched the life leave his eyes.

The world had known him as the Red-Haired Warrior, and so had he been immortalized in stories and songs, but to you, he had simply been Luc. Your Luc, with his flaming red hair, and his warm, easy smile, with small crinkle lines around the blue eyes that you had fancifully likened to sapphires.

He holds onto your arm as the two of you weave a path through the evening crowd, filled with those going home after work or possibly seeking nighttime entertainment. Luc tells you that you look beautiful, and the two of you talk of inconsequential things: the weather, gossip, day-to-day affairs . . .

Luc takes you to a secluded spot, just outside the walls of Mond. There’s a thick woolen blanket spread out on the grass, with a wicker basket on top and a lantern to keep it from blowing away in the wind. You stretch out next to the lantern and lie down on your back, staring up at the black velvet sky above, studded with thousands of diamonds. There’s a chill in the air, but it’s just enough to dull an otherwise warm evening. Luc settles down next to you, closer than you think he would if the two of you were anywhere else. A strange, yet warm peace blossoms within your chest, the most beautiful flower.

An amused smile quirks up your lips. “I have questions.”

“That’s fair.” Luc says, revealing the contents of the picnic basket for your approval. A bouquet of flowers, a bottle of dandelion wine, two long-stemmed glasses, a small chocolate cake, still warm from the oven, and two forks.

There’s a prickle over your skin, the smallest energy change as the wind picks up speed, chafing your cheeks and your hair. “Why is Barbatos hiding behind a bush?”

“Moral support.” Luc spits out the words almost like a curse, and his tone implies that if he could, he would be chasing the Archon off into the wilderness.

You have to muffle your laughter with the back of your hand. “Next question. Why are there flowers?”

“They’re – They’re Cecilias. They grow only on Starsnatch Cliffs. And they’re for you.”

“Why would you go all the way to Starsnatch Cliffs just for flowers?” Your chest cramps at the thought of Luc getting hurt. You know he’s more than capable of protecting himself, but human lives are so fragile, so easily snuffed out. The Bard had been proof enough. And even the Gods themselves had been unable to bring him back. “That was so dangerous, you could have gotten hurt!”

“They’re for you,” Luc repeats, his cheeks reddening in the flickering lantern light. “And – I was hoping – I want to – I want to court you. If you’ll allow it.”

Oh.

Your heart clenches, and your eyes sting as a thousand different emotions hit you in a tidal wave, overpowering the fear, the uncertainty. It’s a mixture of emotions you recognize, but haven’t felt in a very long time. And this is stronger. It feels real. It’s palatable; it tastes like salt, like tears left in the cold. It’s warm too, as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug, pressing your entire body to his.

“Okay. Yes.” The hope, the joy, bubbles out of you in a bright rash of laughter. “You can court me.”

And Luc’s answering smile had been dazzling.

You bring yourself back to the present with an effort, your eyes losing their dream-like haze. The sense of security and warmth vanishes with the last vestiges of the dream; when you blink, there are Abyss Mages in front of you, and an injured boy at your back. The pages of your Catalyst unfurl, glowing with a silvery light. It’s a beautiful book, aqua-coloured, lined with gold and decorated with pure-white feathers.

Your back straightens, your hands fisting at your sides. “Back off. Last warning.”

You’re rewarded with a laugh, sliding over you like shards of glass. And that’s answer enough, really. You haven’t fought in centuries, but your body remembers what your mind has forgotten, and it eases back into the most beautiful, deadly dance. Water pours out from your fingertips, bending to your every command, wreaking blood and pain with each blow.

You’re vaguely reminded of your early days, when the rebellion had reached its brutal peak. When you had fought alongside your allies, watched as they had struggled and bled and triumphed.

You don’t stop, not until the last Abyss Mage has crumbled into ash, blown away on the wind.

“Who are you?”

The man asks again, as you tuck your Catalyst away, into the pouch upon your hip, and set to treating his wounds. The contact tenses his frame like a bow stretched taut enough to break. But he allows you to continue your ministrations as you labor over him. It’s rudimentary treatment at best, strips of your shirt torn apart and used as makeshift bandages. The white strips bloom instantly with red, and your forehead pleats with worry.

This isn’t good.

You lift your head up to stare at him, searching his face. Now that you and him are put together, side by side, you can see that there are definite similarities. It's not in the shape of the mouth but the set of it, the sheer determination that silvers both your eyes. Your blood flows through his veins, after all. You wonder if he can see it too, the resemblance hitting you like a well-placed knife to the gut.

“Why did you save me?” Your descendant asks, and for the first time since you’ve met him, he sounds vulnerable. Unsure.

Your smile is fragile, and your eyes are soft. “You just – Reminded me of someone. That’s all.”

[thedragonnerd]

Rayaari headcanon - let us be sad with some angst and hurt/comfort

(inspired by a lovely anon)

With the rebirth of Kumandra and the return of their lost loved ones, everyone tries to sweep away the last six years, in a desperate attempt to move on with their lives and not waste any more time dwelling on the past.

But the scars, both physical and mental, still remain, and trauma endured cannot simply be washed away. There is a disconnect between people now - especially between those who had to endure the threat of Druuns hanging over their heads for years, and those who have awoken to a new world and changed people.

The most heart-wrenching discovery for Raya is that she doesn't always know what to say to her own Ba. It's been so long since they spent a lot of time together, and she is a very different person now compared to the 12-year-old little girl he threw into the water. Sometimes, she's worried he won't like the person she has become.

She also has more arguments with him than before, especially whenever he treats her more like a small child than the young woman she is today, who has survived hardship he never wanted her to experience. They don't always see eye-to-eye with each other regarding trade, politics and what is best for Heart, with his optimism and her realism clashing. If they don't resolve their disagreement quickly, Namaari will find Raya crying softly in their bedroom; she hates fighting with her Ba.

Raya sometimes sees children from her past, who were turned to stone in the original Druun attack and been frozen in time until now. It feels a lifetime ago that she was the right age to play with them, and when she sees them laughing and playing games, she wonders was I ever really that young?

She carries a weapon on her at all times, unable to shake off the feeling that something might go wrong. She learnt this the hard way when she was thirteen: a market deal in Talon had gone wrong, and she was attacked by two large men when she was only a child and without a weapon or knowledge how to fight back. Her ability to run fast had saved her that day. Since then, she has vowed never to be caught weaponless again.

One morning when Namaari tries to wake her, she accidentally pulls a knife, holding it up to Namaari's neck. Raya is almost sick with the idea that she could have seriously injured Namaari just through instinct, but Namaari just holds her hands until she calms down, rubbing her thumb back and forth. 'I trust you with my life,' she tells Raya.

Raya also still has moments where waves of anger wash over her, striking her unawares and in an uncontrollable manner. One time, Namaari makes an innocuous comment about Benja that sets Raya off, words of anger and blame falling from her lips with malicious intent. She feels awful after having done it - she never meant for Namaari to become the target of her bad emotions that day, and she can see how far it sets back their fledgling relationship. Namaari spirals into several days of guilt before they reconcile again.

For Namaari sees the trauma Raya carries, and can't help but feel responsible. She adds this to the weight of the guilt she has already carried for the past six years, and then bottles it up inside, with the opinion that she doesn't deserve Raya's sympathy, or indeed sympathy from anyone.

She has been raised to place the safety of her people before herself, growing to accept and embrace the risk to her own life every time she had to go out on a mission beyond the Fang borders and into Druun territory. It is something she has always been willing to do if it means keeping the rest of Fang safe, and in this new, safer world it is difficult to shake off these feelings of self-sacrifice being a worthy endeavour.

Indeed, she sometimes thinks that it would have been nobler to have turned to stone herself at some point over the years, but she is also too pragmatic to believe that would absolve her of her sins.

Her way of trying to atone therefore is to help as many people as possible now. Her self-sacrificing thoughts are channeled into working herself to exhaustion, as she tries to juggle fixing Fang's city and palace, expanding her citizen's homes back out into their previously Druun-infested lands, and offering up her services to any of the other lands who need extra support in rebuilding.

All of this responsibility and guilt weighs her down enough that she sometimes gets hit with extreme panic attacks. She manages to get herself to a private location the first few times it happens, but then it strikes in the middle of a sparring session with Raya, and she just sinks to the floor and covers her face with her hands.

She can faintly hear Raya asking 'what's wrong?' and feels a hand being placed on her trembling shoulder. She opens her mouth to tell Raya to go away, but instead chokes out 'Please stay?' It is the first time she has managed to ask for help.

Both of them have scars scattered across their bodies, each with a different story to tell, and some even caused by the other person. Raya is concerned at first that Namaari will find hers ugly, but Namaari soon puts those fears to rest by peppering them with tiny kisses. A couple of Namaari's old injuries give her trouble still, so Raya returns the favour by giving her massages when the pain behind those scars grows too much.

Trauma and loss is not a new concept to either of them, even before the arrival of the Druuns. At night, sometimes Raya sings a song that she can remember her mother using as a lullaby. Namaari doesn't like to discuss her father, but occasionally, safe in the dark, she will mention a story about an adventure they had together.

Over a long period of time, they are both able to release themselves of some of their fears and traumas; others, they learn to live with, or learn how to help the other cope. The most important thing, they find, is being together through it all.

[petri808]

Quarantine memories fic hoarding craze for @thenaluarchive

— thank you to @phoenix-before-the-flame for helping jump start this fic 💜

It was Natsu Dragneel’s absolute favorite time of the day. 1 pm for him, and 8 am for Lucy, his… well, right now they were just online friends separated by distance and priorities. But judging by how he talked about her to friends, you’d never know it. They’d met three years ago on Twitch through a random chat stream about an anime series, and he continued following Lucy on her writing streams. Three years ago, she was a sophomore in college while he was in his senior year. Lucy later moved on to a graduate program, but they stayed in touch, growing close. To Natsu, she wasn’t just some girl online but a real friend he cared very much about. His friends called Lucy his online girlfriend. Pfft. He wished he could call her that.

Roughly two thousand miles away, Lucy Heartfilia was hating life. Her curtains were drawn, and a blanket was pulled over her head to drown out the light. The air conditioner was down to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, working against the low-grade fever and pounding migraine born yesterday. Migraines… the bane of her otherwise healthy existence. It was her fault after all, the temptation of a chocolate dessert knowing full well it was one of her triggers brought on said migraine and all she could do was bear it.

Why?

“Stupid hoarders!” Lucy groaned to herself.

As if dealing with a pandemic wasn’t bad enough, people’s selfish reactions to it were worse. A government agency had claimed that acetaminophen products could help with the virus’s symptoms, so what did people do? Panic buying anything and everything they could find containing that drug! The problem for people like Lucy, is the one over the counter medication that helped with her migraines was Excedrine… an acetaminophen product! And she’d just. run. out.

Lucy’s phone rang and she knew exactly who it could be based on the time. So, she clicked the answer button without opening her eyes.

“Hey, Natsu,” she groaned out.

“Morning Lucy! Oh geez, you sound like a frog.”

“Thanks,” she retorted sarcastically. “I’ve got a migraine.”

“Ouch.” Natsu genuinely flinched. He rarely got headaches, but this wasn’t the first time he’d talked to Lucy when she was going through one, so he knew what she was going through. “The meds aren’t helping?”

Lucy sighed. “I ran out. And did you see the news about all the hoarding? Every store here is bought out. It… sucks.”

“I could check around here and send you any I find,” he offered.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you Natsu, but I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“Pfft. Nonsense. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

“Thanks, Natsu. I appreciate it.” Lucy smiled through the pain. There’s a good reason her feelings for the man had grown over the years. His sweet and caring, yet fun and goofy, positive personality was an easy drug to get hooked to.

“Anyway, I gotta get back to work.” Natsu whined. “Good morning again, stay hydrated, and I’ll check on you again when I’m finished for the day, okay Lucy? Get some rest.”

“Have a good day at work Natsu.”

“Will now, after hearing your voice. Talk to you later Luce.”

She giggled softly. “Bye, Natsu.”

Lucy shifted under her blanket as she clicked off the phone to lie on her back. His sexy voice did wonders for her mood despite the pain still ravaging it. Now all she had to do was drag herself out of bed to eat something and drink water. She never had an appetite when she got these migraines, but it was a necessary fuel to fight it. All Lucy had left were extra strength Tylenol, so she could only hope it would at least take the edge off until the migraine ran its course.

Like so many others, this pandemic had really taken a toll on Lucy’s psyche. It’s not as if she went out a lot before it took hold, but just the fact it made going out dangerous brought different emotions to the situation. School had moved online which sucked all its own, she missed casually hanging out with friends on campus, and simply longed for the freedom of leaving her apartment as she pleased. But she understood the precautions of a quarantine. Frankly, she agreed with the city’s efforts to keep them as safe as possible no matter how many grumbled about it. Did it make it easier? No. But it was a necessary evil.

They weren’t completely trapped, could shop for necessities, visit family or friends, just encouraged to limit such gatherings as a safety precaution. If you went out, wear a mask, and just don’t stand too close to other people. Well, unless Lucy knew the person, why would she want strangers in her personal bubble anyway? And the mask thing? Have you ever been out shopping, and someone just sneezes without covering their mouth? Yeah— seriously, would it kill people to use one?! Why were people so selfish during times like this? Not everyone, but too many. Just like with all the hoarding frenzies that swept through cities, it was frustrating and— “Ugh…” being in a pain-driven bad mood was sure bringing her down today.

But despite all the external frustrations, the feelings of isolation from being in a quarantine for months were probably the most mentally exhausting part. It was lonely being so far away from home during a pandemic. Lucy’s been in college for five years and while she’s made friends in the new city, she was starting to crave comfort instead of an empty apartment. Her life online was one of the few things that made her happy, like Natsu’s daily calls, and kept her sane.

Natsu… her face heated up every time she thought about the man. They didn’t have a lot of hobbies in common, but he was always so supportive and made her laugh like no other could. Where they lacked in commonality, was made up in ease of conversation. It hadn’t taken very long for their online chats to feel more like an old friend and less like a faceless stranger. Over the years they’d talked about meeting in person one day after she finished school. It also helped that he was from a city not too far from where she came from, so if she chose to move back it would be convenient. But she also loved the new city she called home. Oh well, Lucy sighed. It was a decision still a couple of years away to make.

The next morning, Lucy woke up to find her migraine had finally given up. She could still feel the little bastard hiding, simmering somewhere ready to strike, but if it stayed mellow, it was something she could tolerate. Throughout the day, Lucy wasted no time in catching up on the homework she couldn’t finish the day before and making sure to stay hydrated with food in her stomach.

Lucy’s phone rang around 2pm.

“Hi Natsu, how was work?”

“Same ole, same ole,” he chuckled. “And how are you? Still feeling, okay?”

“Yeah, it hasn’t come back.”

“That’s great!”

Lucy could hear a lot of background noise, so she asked about it. “Oh, you’re not home yet?”

“Nah, and the commuters are being extra noisy today,” he responded benignly. “Anyway, tonight I won’t have time to talk cause I got a project due for work I need to finish.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Yeah, I’m still catching up from yesterday too and Levy’s dropping by for dinner.”

They chat for a few minutes about their day as Natsu waited for transportation. Lucy knew he used the subway to and from work, but today it sounded a little different, noisier and she swore there were engines instead of the normal train sounds. Maybe it was static. Finally, Lucy caught the muffled words now boarding.

“Shucks, time for me to go,” Natsu cut through. “Sweet dreams Lucy! I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Natsu!”

Lucy spent the afternoon relaxing online, chatting with friends and gaming. Her friend Levy McGarden later dropped by with take-out food for dinner and the two women caught up on random topics while movies droned on the television. They were both in grad school, so during the semester there wasn’t a lot of time to hang out, but they made do. Lucy was also doing a paid internship at a local magazine 4 days out of the week as part of her master’s program. She really enjoyed working there under one of the senior editors. He made it a fun learning experience.

Life was almost perfect except for the background isolation of the pandemic. Lucy was glad she wasn’t one of the individuals affected by jobs cuts, but it still got under her skin to feel trapped in a way. It was nice with her friend over... ‘Maybe I should see if Levy wants to become roommates?’ She wondered as she drifted off to sleep. The apartment would sure feel a lot less empty.

A knock at the door roused Lucy from her sleep. She blinked and yawned, looking at the alarm clock and that said 9 am the next morning. ‘Natsu didn’t call,’ she thought how odd. Maybe he slept in after working late.

Lucy dragged herself out of bed, throwing on a robe to answer the front door. “Gimme a sec,” she called out as she neared it.

“UPS delivery, ma’am.” The male voice responded.

‘UPS?’ Lucy grew confused. She didn’t remember ordering anything through them, but maybe she’d forgotten?

She peaked out of the peep hole, but all she could see was the box being held up. Okay a little weird, but some of the delivery people did that to show they were legitimate service people. Lucy slowly opened the door but kept the chain lock on while peering through the gap. But what she saw next brought on instant tears.

“H-How?” Her voice stammered out as her fingers quickly undid the lock and opened the door wide.

There Natsu stood holding a small brown box, dressed in a uniform of sorts, with a mask hanging under his chin, and wearing a goofy grin.

Lucy snorted a laugh as her eyes crinkled in happiness. “Is that a Halloween costume?”

“Yeah,” his smile widened, and hand scratched his head. “Surprise delivery,” Natsu held out the box, “for Lucy Heartfilia.”

“What is it?” She asked as she took it from him.

“Oh, I um found you Excedrine.”

Lucy opened the box to find 4 bottles. “You certainly did,” she laughed. “But why’d you bring it yourself?”

“It was quicker than the mail and… I hoped…” Natsu’s mannerism grew sheepish and tentative, “it was about time we finally met in person?”

Her face softened with a smile. “It truly is.” Lucy gestured into the apartment. “Please, make yourself at home.”

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ @theastroooooworld​ 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝oi oi oi nikki ♡! i hope you are well as always. can i have hc's for Tanaka, Ushijima and Bokuto (separately) ? how would they behave with their childhood best friend who supports them since their beginning in volleyball but with whom they gradually fall in love ? thanks !!je t'aime tant, prends soin de toi et des tiens 🧡🌅❞ ─➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝my dearest cam,  forgive me for the terrible, terrible sense of never being on time but i’ve heard this letter comes at the right time (hopefully this letter will help a tiny bit while you’re healing.) je t’aime fort fort, prends soin de toi (et de ton tibia et de tes cervicales) et des tiens! sealed with a magic kiss to blow your pain away,  nikki.❞

──➤ 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 : Tanaka, Bokuto and Ushijima gradually fall in love with their childhood best friend. ─➤ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mentions of a nose bleeding.

──➤ Tanaka Ryuunosuke sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Despite his flamboyant sense of worship for Kiyoko, Tanaka does not know how to handle emotions, romantic ones, that is. Sure, he (alongside with Nishinoya) are willing to kiss each centimeter of concrete blessed by Kiyoko’s footsteps, but despite his burning passion, Tanaka is rendered into a stuttering mess when the attention is focused on him.

He has hidden and sometimes projected his blooming crushes for other people onto proves of love for Kiyoko, and in that sense, knowing he could solely focus his attention on her brought him a sense of security because he is so scared of the unknown, especially romantically-wise.

Hence why, whenever he would find himself appreciating someone who wasn’t Kiyoko a bit too much to his own liking, he would bury that feeling deep down and instead transform these hushed sentiments into demonstrations of love for his one and only goddess. 

However.

Sometimes, feelings tend to be a bit stronger when they are mixed with nostalgia, that is, childhood nostalgia. Truth be told, you, Tanaka and Noya were always found together... And often in the worst scenarios (just like that one time you and Ryuu were waiting for Nishinoya and you had to help Tanaka contain all the blood leaking from his nose at the sight of the bombshell accompanying Nishinoya’s grandfather.) 

Surely enough, Tanaka had always seen you like the equivalent of Nishinoya, meaning that he would confess every little secret locked in the back of his mind, even those including Kiyoko. 

Your presence was comforting, and he always considered you extra fuel to animate his fire whenever you would watch him during practice (and you were the first to throw an empty bottle straight to his head whenever he would throw his shirt off after scoring an impressive bottle.)

But in a very, very dramatic way, Kiyoko found herself become gradually set free of Tanaka’s romantic antics and devotion which led her to question the cause of all of this— despite her dislike for any kind of grandiose display of devotion, the fact Tanaka had started to stop giving her attention was a huge red flag regarding his state.

She hesitated to go talk to Nishinoya, but she was expecting to be met with no serious answer, and instead, just watch him drool during several minutes. 

She, thus, went to the next best person who would be able to comprehend this sudden switch in attitude: you, and your lifelong experience regarding Tanaka.

You were undoubtedly quizzical, but things took another turn when Tanaka himself showed up around the corner of the gym, and an uncharacteristic blush crept on his cheeks, Kiyoko took it as a clue to leave you alone.

“Is there anything you wanted to tell me, Ryuu? Are you sick or anything? You haven’t been, you know, following Ki—“

“I like you a whole lot. A lot. Like, a lot.” He confessed, his body was rigid but his eyes testified of all the love he had for you.

You couldn’t help but allow a soft giggle to break free from your lips, “does that mean you’re going to be worshipping me now?”

And as soon as the words died on your lips, his dropped on one knee, and delicately reached for your hand which he enveloped with his palms and soon smothered with love-infused pecks. “Anything for you, my beautiful divinity. I’ve been waiting for this day since we were kids, now I got to worship you everyday, the sunshine of my life.”

──➤ Bokuto Koutarou sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Before Akaashi came in the picture, you’ve always been his pilar, his rock, his pivot, his safe person. Bokuto soon learned to identify you as the person he could go to if anything were to happen.

You knew firsthand how to handle his emo mode since you were kids, and as a child, Bokuto would make himself appear look sad on purpose just so you could focus your attention on him and smoother him with love and kind touches.

Years later, this side of his personality never faded away, but never did your calming antics, nor did you stop always keeping an eye out on him during practice.

Bokuto expressively asked you to be the manager of the team, he said it was to “give you the best seats in the house to admire the way of the ace”, but truthfully, you were the fuel to the fire burning like an inexorable inferno within him.

You and Akaashi completed one another perfectly to find a balance for Bokuto, but at times, when Bokuto would find himself being overwhelmed by sad thoughts on the court, Akaashi would always suggest him to look at you, sitting on the benches.

It had become a ritual, each time Bokuto felt nervous or tortured by his own emotions, his shining golden orbs would find your frame, and a smile on your end was enough to make him feel at peace again. And that, ever since Bokuto started playing volleyball.

One day, during training, Bokuto had ententered a severe streak of shots, and each time the ball slammed the ground loudly in victory, his eyes darted on your form to study your reaction. He started doing anything to impress you since that day, even the silliest things like carry all the water bottles for you until (inevitably) tripping on the ground.

But striking for your attention and validation over and over again also meant that his emo modes were going to be even more intense too.

As his palm slapped the surface of the ball into a diagonal strike, his body shifted in a straight position, thus transforming the shot into a straight line.

The whines of protest were already leaving his lips, and soon enough his entire body language testified of how his emotions got the best of him: his shoulders were slumped, the tips of his hair faced down, his brows were weakly furrowed. It was a crisis situation.

“Agaaaashehhh! Can you get me Y/N, pleaaaase? I feel like I’m gonna melt and freeze at the same time.” Bokuto pleaded, his golden orbs were glossy under the gathering of the salty pearls in the corner of his eyes.

Without wasting more time, Akaashi jogged to you, and quickly explained the situation with a hint of worry in his tone which was unsual for him.

Your palm brushed Bokuto’s back in a soothing manner, only to find yourself prisoner of his embrace as his forelimbs found shelter on the small of your back, the tip of his nose nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Y/NNNN, I can’t even do diagonal shots anymore... It’s, like, my body goes for diagonal but I keep on hitting straight lines, I feel so dumb and useless...” His words were accompanied by whines of discontent, clearly indicating that this emo situation was more alarming than the others.

Your palm rubbed invisible shapes on his back in a soothing manner, humming at his confessions, “I can’t do anything right, can’t hit diagonal shots, can’t be a good captain, can’t even confess to you that I’ve loved you since day one.”

An angel passed.

“Kou, did— were you serious?”

“Does that mean you don’t like me? ‘S fine, I swear.” He now had his state focused on you, eyes as glossy as ever, and it took you all the strength in the world not to soothe his pain away by smothering him with kisses.

“I like you too, Kou, as big as the sky.” You offered him a genuine smile, your palms having moved to cup his palms while your thumbs were brushing the skin of his cheeks.

The tips of his hair immediately quirked up, and his signature grin throned once more amongst his facial features : “Wooooah! As big as the sky? That’s so big, sunshine! Guess what? I love you as big as the court!”

Another giggle found its way past your lips, soon quieted by the way your planted a peck on his cheek, “That’s a lot, Kou, more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

And as Bokuto cradles you in his embraces, he excitedly stares at Akaashi who has a hint of a smile on his face, jumping a bit over the excitement.

“Kou, I know you’re happy and all but it’s hard to keep up with your hug if you’re jumping all over the place.”

“My bad, sunshine, you just make me so happy, ya know?”

──➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Now, I have already stated that Ushijima is not emotionless, rather he decides whether or not something or someone is worthy of the reveal of his emotions. And only three things fit on this list: Tendou, volleyball and yourself.

You actually met Ushijima as a child at an art discovery class for children. Ushijima had isolated himself from the rest of the children because the remarks of his mother were still ringing loud and clear in his head, but when you approached him and complimented how unique of an approach his left hand offered, he was over the moon (not that he showed it though.)

Much like Bokuto, Toshi is the kind of person to associate someone as his safe person, someone he can go to if needed, or at least feel their presence for reassurance. Needless to say, you are this person to Wakatoshi, always have been since the first doodles you’ve shared together.

In his case, Tendou actually pushed you to be the manager of the team, remarking that your presence would probably motivate Ushijima even more and make him more grounded if he had someone to hold on to during games.

To this day, you’ve always stayed late after practice and watched over Wakatoshi, spike after spike, serve after serve, until his fingers were bleeding and the moonshine outshone the neons of the gym.

You always carried medical tape with you, because you knew he was always bound to push behind his limits, only because he knew that you’d always be there for him, which happened to be true.

Now, now. Wakatoshi does know what feelings are, he knows how to recognize them kinesthetisically and tends to do mental notes of how people manifest their own emotions. Thus, he starts to notice the way his stomach creates knots whenever you’re in the same vicinity.

After training, Tendou finds him reading ads in the latest Jump edition, but Ushijima is quick to interrogate him : “Ah, an ad for plant medicine. Do you reckon this would help my stomach ache, Tendou?”

Tendou blinks once, then twice “Mhm, ‘depends on what kind of stomach ache we’re talking about here, Wakatoshi-kun.”

“It‘s odd. It’s not so much painful but it always happens when Y/N is near me.”

Tendou wipes an inexistent tear away in a dramatic manner, “Toshi-kun, you’re not sick at all, you’re in love.”

Since this sudden realization, Wakatoshi tends to avoid you because he believes that despite the sweet nature of this feeling, this stomach ache is taking a bit too much space to his liking.

He realizes soon, however, that the longer he waits, the worse it becomes.

After practice, and in an ever so natural manner, Ushijima grabs your wrist, and sends a glare to the rest of the team in order to silently tell them to leave the gym now that practice is over.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for taking some of your time so suddenly, I hope I did not startle you.” His grip on your wrist fades away slowly, and you offer him a hint of a smile.

“Don’t worry, Toshi, you’re all good.”

“I requested your presence because it seems I have developed feelings for you.”

A vivid blush colors the apples of your cheeks, your mouth is set agape for a few agonizing seconds: “You think or you know?”

“I don’t know.” He replies, and there’s a hint of disappointment in himself at the lack of retrospection on his end.

“Well, let me help you then.” Your palm is now enveloping his cheek in a loving hold, whilst your lips plant a lingering kiss on his opposite cheek, leaving Wakatoshi at loss for words.

“I, um, I’m positive now. I truly have feelings for you.”

[kindnessisweakness2]

DELUSIONAL { PART 6}

*Not my GIF *

Delaney shifted as Jax settled himself down on her sofa. They had both showered and their leftover pizza boxes from dinner littered her coffee table. It was weird how self conscious she felt around Jax now. They had done this exact routine thousands of times over the years they had known eachother. Movies and pizza. She didn't know why she was overthinking everything so much. Yes he had to act like he was madly In love with her, even in the house as they both knew the creep would be watching somehow, but Nothing had really changed between them. Not for real. Much to her disappointment.

Jax looked over as he felt Delaney move again trying to get herself comfortable. He knew what she was doing. She was trapped in her own thoughts. Feeling rage start to burn slightly in his chest as he thought that this creep was making her feel uncomfortable in her own home, he quickly turned to her. "Hey. Don't think about everything that's going on. Don't stress yourself out." Taking her hand Jax tugged her gently towards him. "Lay with me like we always do." Smiling softly Delaney settled herself between Jax's legs and lay with her head on his chest. Kissing the top of her head Jax pulled the blue  throw blanket that she always kept on the back of the couch over the both of them and snuggled down with her pressed against him. For the first time in weeks Delaney drifted off to sleep with ease mentally thanking God for having someone in her life as good as Jax.

When Delaney woke up the next morning she was in her bed, Jax sleeping soundly next to her. He must of carried her to bed last night. Looking at the time she groaned as she realised she had a class in an hour. She loved dancing but she would love staying in bed with Jax so much more. Leaning over him gently Delaney shook him awake. "Morning babe" Jax mumbled as he pulled her close. Shirtless Jax was making it even harder to 1 keep her emotions in check and 2 leave the bed and be productive. "I need to be at the studio in an hour. Do you want to stay here?" Jax shook his head as he forced himself to let go of her and sit up. " No I think it's best if I come with you darlin. I'll get ready now." Delaney's eyes followed his figure all the way to the bathroom and hoped to god Jax didn't notice the lust in her eyes at the sight of him half naked.

30 minutes later and they were on their way to the studio on Jax's bike. Delaney loved being on the back of his bike. Holding him close and the rush of the wind in her ears was like nothing else. Smiling at Jax as she passed him his helmet she climbed off the bike. " You don't have to come in y'know" Delaney nervously commented. He'd never seen her dance and the thought of it made her stomach twist. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't support my girl?" Delaney's chest filled with warmth at the sound of 'boyfriend' and 'my girl'. Even if it was fake she felt her heart skip a beat. It damn near stopped though when he placed his hands either side of her face and kissed her cheek. Yep, it's official. He will be the death of her.

Leading the way into the studio she found a chair for Jax to sit off to the side on and placed her bag next to him. Everyone was already warming up so she started to get herself ready. Jax nearly lost it when she started to take her grey jogging bottoms off. "W-what the hell are you doing?" Delaney nearly laughed at the expression on his face. "I've got shorts on underneath babe. I can't dance in these". He watched her intently as she pulled on her heels and strapped her kneepads on. Getting up she started to stretch and warm up like everybody else. It felt weird this time as everyone was sneaking looks at Jax clearly intreuged as to why he was there. No one was brave enough to say anything that is until the bitch walked in. Ima took the same classes as Delaney and always tried to compete with her for everything. She stiffened as the blonde made her way over. "Hi Jax." Delaney couldn't help but roll her eyes as he muttered a quick hello back. Delaney had never got along with her. She stuck her nose in everyone's business and had no respect for any other woman attatched to the club. She'd smile at your face trying to be sweet as pie but fuck your man once your back was turned. She was vile. "Hi Delaney". Ima grinned at her. Ignoring her Delaney continued to stretch and Jax couldn't help but watch in amazement as she dropped into the splits. Ima was clearly irritated that she had been ignored by Delaney. Standing up just as class was called Delaney smiled at Jax and kissed his cheek. She could feel the anger and shock rolling off Ima and didn't feel bad to say she found it amusing. "This class won't be long baby. We can go for lunch after." Jax nodded as Delaney and Ima made their way to the front of the room glaring at eachother.

Jax couldn't believe it. The way she moved her body. She looked so good. She was so attractive to him and so talented with what she does. Delaney was out of breath after the last run through. Quickly grabbing her water bottle she downed nearly half of it and made her way back over to Jax. But before she could get there she felt a hard shove in her back. Turning to face whoever did it, Delaney scoffed loudly. She should of fucking known. "YOU messed me up. YOURE the reason I didn't get that last run through and opportunity to be in the final video of the routine." Ima shouted in her face. Jax quickly stood from the chair and made his way over. Delaney may be alot of things but a push over isn't one of them. "Fuck off! You didn't make the cut.You lost the opportunity. Have some dignity, put your big girl panties on and deal with it." Ima raised her hand to strike Delaney but before she connect she caught her hand in a vice like grip. Her eyes turned cold and Jax was hesitant to step in. "I'm only going to tell you this once. You put your fucking hands on me I wont just bust your nose this time. I'll break your jaw so fucking hard you'll never be able to get paid for sucking dick ever again. You'll be eating food through a fucking straw and I'll shove my foot so far up your coochie it won't be considered a hole anymore, it'll be a fucking bucket." Ima winced as Delaney let go of her hand and made a run to grab her bag and leave. Taking a deep breath Delaney ignored Jax as she pulled her heels off and her joggers back on. The studio was now empty and Delaney silently thanked god that no one was witness to her little outburst. "You were really good babe." Smiling at Jax Delaney went slightly red. "Thanks." Jax grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. "Ignore ima. She's just jealous. You looked amazing out there."  Nodding her head Delaney looked up into his baby blues and nearly got lost. She really wished this could all be different. No game to get this guy to go away. She wanted all of this to be real. Little did she know Jax did too. He didn't know what he would ever do without her. He didn't think he could fall in love with anyone other than Tara. But he was quickly proved wrong when Delaney came into his life. He never made a move on her because he always believed she deserved better. Better than a criminal like him. She was good and pure. But him? He was tainted and bad for her.

But Jax couldn't help himself as he stood there staring into her brown eyes. They reminded him of chocolate so deep and dark he could get lost in them and never wanted to find his way out. Gently tipping his head down their lips met and neither one of them could put into words how the fireworks felt. Softly pushing her back against the white wall of the studio Jax's hands settled on her hips. He held her to him tightly. God he didn't want this moment to end. He wanted her. All of her. No other woman could come close.

And as Delaney and Jax had their first kiss, a moment that was so special and so private, they didn't realise they were being watched. Too wrapped up in their love for eachother they didn't notice the angry figure stood behind the glass window taking photos with his camera.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Sorry it's late guys! I've been at the hospital all day. I hope you guys enjoy it please let me know what you think! Part 7 will follow shortly!

Also the choreography that I imagine Delaney doing in this chapter is Aliyah Janell's No Guidance routine. Please watch it on YouTube, shes a fantastic dancer!

Love to you all, stay safe!! 💕

[musewrangler]

In honor of OT Week here’s a little one shot I wrote a while back. My favorite film is The Empire Strikes Back.

This story is entitled— Piett’s Promotion

(In my work, the Lady is sentient and Veers didn’t die on Hoth)

He lost track of how many hours he had spent on the bridge, ruthlessly clamping down on his emotions. He had hated the man, it was true. And had suffered at his hands. But he had not ever wished that death upon him. He could still hear Ozzel’s wet chokes and see his bulging eyes, mere feet from himself. That last, desperate gurgle as he turned toward Piett-- as though the Captain could do anything against the Force. The thud of his body---it sounded like someone had dropped a bag of meat on the deck.

Lord Vader on the holoscreen, dispassionately squeezing the life from the man and calmly informing Piett what he wanted done with the fleet.

You are in command now, Admiral Piett.

So he went through the motions of being in command. Of taking reports. Checking duty rosters. Speaking to the morgue about the disposal of Ozzel’s body. Force . Writing to his family, because someone should.

Then---the asteroid field. His Lady, his fleet now, going to their destruction. And he had tried.

Three years he had worked with Vader and he had watched the obsession for finding Skywalker grow. Say what you would about Vader, and people did, he had seemed to genuinely care about Death Squadron, about the men and ships that served him faithfully. And he was being ordered to take that Squadron to their deaths, throw all that away, to find that damn ship.

So he had tried. He knew his life was forfeit. He went to Vader. His bridge crew clearly believed he would not return from that meeting. Veers had commed him as he walked to Vader’s quarters and begged him not to go. But he had to. For the sake of the men. For the sake of his Lady. And was told it was not an excuse. Vader was willing for the Lady, the pride of the fleet, his flagship, to be horrifically damaged, if not destroyed, in this obsessive quest.

The only moment in his entire career that Piett appreciated hearing from the Emperor happened just in time.

They had moved out of the asteroid field and Piett had an entirely new burden as damage reports flooded his datapad and alarms blared around the Lady’s bridge. So he did what he had to---he ordered repairs, he checked casualty reports, at one point, he personally had his hands in some of the Lady’s wiring, repairing damage to her bridge deflector shield.

And then…..

Avenger reported they had her.

Piett had served with Needa at one point. They weren’t quite friends, they hadn’t had time for that, but he liked the man and thought he was a good officer. And a good man.

So good that he felt he needed to shield his men from Vader’s unpredictable wrath. And for the second time in 48 hours, Piett had to stand by as another larynx was crushed and this time, Vader mocked his prey.

Apology accepted Captain Needa.

And all of Piett’s emotions must be silenced. Because he had his own men to think of. If he was to die, some other poor bastard would be Admiral. He would rather kill himself trying to save them than have Vader crush his throat.

At some point, and he genuinely couldn’t say when in the eternity he experienced, Captain Kelly had walked up to his side, carefully removed the datapad he found he’d been clenching in his hands, and quietly murmured, “Admiral, I have the bridge. Please sir, go and rest.”

Piett had stared at him a beat and then realized that he was being given a reprieve.

“You have the bridge, Captain,” he’d said in automatic tones that must have been his and then he was turning to walk as straight and confident as he could toward the blast doors.

First hurdle cleared, he made it to the turbolift where he allowed himself to lean against the wall for support.

There had been a time when he thought that Vader actually gave a damn about his men. That he was building something which Piett was proud to be part of. But this consuming obsession…..

His deck. He felt as though he was watching someone else as his boots moved slowly toward the Admiral’s quarters---his quarters.

Someone other than himself (perhaps Captain Kelly) had ordered his things transported here, and Ozzel’s removed. He could still smell the chemicals that the cleaning crew had used, to prepare it for their new admiral. He wondered if the smell would have faded by the time the next admiral was installed here. For he had no illusions. His death was coming swiftly in this mad chase for Skywalker.

One of his miniature trees was tipped over. In automatic response, he carefully righted it, scooping the dirt back in with his fingers. They were trembling.

Force. He needed a drink. He didn’t care if he was commed---he was going to die anyway, might as well add some liquid courage to face it.

He stumbled to the cabinet and found his liquor collection neatly put away. He found the strongest one he had--something from Dathomir--- and a glass, and poured it full, cursing the shaking in his hands as it spilled on the floor.

He stumbled to his sofa and sat, taking a long fiery drink, and then set the glass on the table, and managed to remove his hat and gloves. He unfastened the top of his duty jacket and found himself gazing at his very gleaming brand new Admiral bars.

Kriff it. He’d hated Ozzel but this had not been the way he wanted a promotion. Six hundred men had died today as a direct result of travelling through an asteroid field.

Dear family, I’m so sorry to write to you to inform you of the death of your son/father/brother. They were pulverized by a completely unnecessary asteroid trip because our commander has lost his kriffing mind over a Rebel pilot.

Piett took another long drink and poured another. As he made a good start on it, the lights of his quarters dipped into indigo.

He laugh/sobbed. “Yes lady, I am sad. That word…….doesn’t begin to cover what I’m feeling I’m afraid.”

Icey blue light--her color for fear. “Yes, literally afraid. I’m likely going to be dead soon….” He put the glass down again and buried his face in his hands.

The Lady. What would happen if he died next? Would Vader take care of her? Today’s actions didn’t seem to indicate that he would. Piett had to find a way to survive. Someone had to try and stand between Vader’s madness and this ship and crew.

The icey blue was flashing at him as he lifted his face and he realized that she was frightened at his words.

“I’m sorry….I’m sorry, Lady, I will do my best not to be. Lord Vader is….can you sense that he is not….right?”

Her regular lights flashed. <Yes>

He finished his glass and his head swam.

“Lady, if…..if…..I can’t, then you must take care of this crew. Do not let Lord Vader hurt you, do you understand?”

And that was dangerously close to treason, even in his rather intoxicated ears.

She flashed her lights and gave him indigo again.

“I’m sorry, Lady, but you need to be prepared, if I……” he reached for the bottle again, and suddenly strong hands were taking it from him, and he followed the hands with his eyes up to the deeply compassionate gaze of the General.

“Enough, Firmus.” He set the bottle somewhere out of sight and came around the sofa to kneel in front of Piett and begin undoing his duty jacket.

The Admiral’s swimming brain was struggling now, between the alcohol and the exhaustion of terror.

“Max. You’re in sickbay.” He raised a finger to point at him. “You will be in soooooo much trouble with Henley.”

“I discovered today, much to my shock,” Veers began, helping Piett shrug out of the jacket and reaching for his boots next, “that underneath multiple layers of baked on cynicism and appalling condescension, the Doctor might possibly have a heart. When he heard you were on a path to throw yourself between Vader and this crew, he let me go early. And your Lady got my attention a short while ago by blinding me with that white light she’s chosen for you.”

The General had finished wrestling off his boots and Piett noted the still pink and healing lines on his face from his injuries on Hoth.

“Now,” said Veers firmly. “I would say congratulations, but this is not the time and I’m so kriffing sorry that it happened this way, Firmus.”

“He was right next to me,” Piett whispered, and found himself irrationally angry that his hands were still shaking. “I need one more drink, Max, I’ve got to keep it together….”

“You do need one more drink, Admiral, but not alcohol.” The General rose and procured a glass of water which he came back and handed carefully to his friend. “That’s an order, drink it all. I found out how long you were on the bridge, and you are no doubt dehydrated. Drinking that much….” he looked back at the bottle, “damn when you go for it, you really do, don’t you? Dathomirian vodka? Yes, more water it is.”

Piett did not like the feeling of crumbling, but it was happening and he couldn’t make it stop. He tried anyway. “Techina---telechni---kriff, technically , I outrank you now, General Veers.”

He saw Max pause and glance at him with an eyebrow raised. “Well. Even plastered, trust you to know your military protocols by heart. That is true, Admiral .”

Piett flinched at the title. Veers relented, getting more water silently and snagging the duvet from the bed in the other room.

Don’t be comforting Max. I can’t. I will break utterly and I don’t think I have time for that.

Another glass of water was shoved into his hands and then his duvet was draped around his shoulders. Veers seated himself close to his friend.

“I know you pretty well now Firmus, would you agree?”

Piett just nodded, drinking the water, letting it slide down a throat that was feeling tighter by the moment.

Like Ozzel’s, like Needa’s.

“So I hope you can trust me enough to believe what I’m going to say.” Veers paused, considering. “A great deal of bantha poodo has occurred in the last several days. Hoth was a success in some ways. But I lost three walkers.”

“I’m sorry, Max I should have….”

“You should have nothing, Firmus. You haven’t had a single second to breathe until now and I know it. My point is, that our commander is…..not what we had hoped. But we both have men under our command and I know that you care about that. If what I overheard you telling the Lady is any indication…..you don’t expect to make it much longer.”

Piett shuddered involuntarily and in a rare move (he must look pathetic) Veers got an arm around him.

“I’m here to tell you, that you must . Keep your head down, follow orders, do your best as you always do, and hope that Lord Vader remembers that you are one of his most competent and loyal officers.”

And he would like to find some shreds of hope in that, he would, but….

“Did you…..” he cleared his throat and gave another attempt. “Did you hear about Needa?”

A pause. Veers sighed. “Yes. Kriff it. Were you there for that too?”

And the throat that was now unbearably tight wouldn’t work for him to make any words, and Piett leaned forward to hide his face in his hands as his shoulders shook.

Veers’ arm tightened around him.

“Get it out here, Firmus, it won’t help to try and bury that. I’ll be here as long as you need.”

You are in command now, Admiral Piett.

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 12

part 1 | part 11 | part 13

A/N: Enjoy a fic where Katara is able to express her emotions to someone and not have to keep everything bottled up inside until she explodes in a blinding rage. The next couple parts are gonna be so angsty :) *Also, I never came right out and said this, but I allude to it a lot. Y/N is a tall bitch. That is all.*

Katara peeked her head in. “Can we talk?”

The sound of her voice didn’t soothe any of Y/N’s fears. “Yeah, sure,” she said shakily. 

Y/N sat on her bed roll and left room for Katara to sit across from her. She pulled her knees up and played with her hands. They aren’t your friends. They aren’t your friends, Y/N chanted inside her head. She willed herself to take this well. She always knew this was going to be the ending, that this was going to happen–

“You know how you said I could talk to you?”

Y/N let out a huge breath she had been holding. Maybe this wasn’t a send off, no hey, thanks so much for your help so far, Sokka really appreciates you teaching him to sword fight, but we’re off with the Avatar now! 

“What’s wrong?” More importantly, what’s so wrong that you wanted to come to me to talk to? Y/N wanted to say. She settled herself a little more comfortably against the wall. “Is it about your dad?” Y/N guessed.

Katara froze, halfway between pulling her legs into cross them, her face a mask of shame. “Gods, is it so obvious?”

“Oh–um…” Y/N trailed off, not sure of what to say. 

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” Katara stuttered out.

“Don’t you think that you should talk to Sokka or Toph?” Y/N wasn’t sure that she was the best person to talk to about father-daughter relationships, seeing as she didn’t have one. They knew her better. Although, that might be the exact reason why she wasn’t going to them. 

“No,” Katara waved her hands. “Sokka, he wouldn’t get it. He loves my dad–not that I’m saying I don’t but–ugh,” Katara groaned and dropped her head in her hands. When she looked up again her eyelashes were wet. “Sokka doesn’t get what I’m feeling. I don’t understand what I’m feeling. I really do love Dad and I missed him every single day, but the moment I saw him I just felt this anger towards him. He was gone for so long and I was forced to grow up more than I should have with both my parents not being around. When I needed him the most he left. How–how can I just ignore that? How do you love someone and still be so unhappy with them?”

“Oh,” Y/N realized now what this was all about. Everything always comes back to Azula. Every decision she makes, every conversation she has, Azula still dominated her life. 

Y/N didn’t realize she started crying until Katara grabbed her hand. “No, no. I’m sorry! Don’t cry.”

Y/N squeezed Katara’s in a vice grip. “It’s not the same. Your dad, I’ve seen him look at you. He loves you and Sokka, he cares about you so much. He never meant to hurt you by leaving, but you don’t need to ignore it either. I love Azula because I’m weak. You love your dad because you know that no matter what he did, it was for the best even though it hurt.” Y/N wiped at her cheeks. “You need to talk to him. Tell him everything you told me. He’s probably hurting because you’ve shut him out, but he’ll understand.” 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Katara sniffled. 

Y/N gave Katara’s hand another squeeze, not trusting her voice at the moment. She wished she had the courage to ask what was going to happen to her. It meant so much more now, but they were both teary-eyed and vulnerable; Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. 

There were always distractions on the deck while Y/N and Sokka sparred, other warriors stood around eating, talking, watching them; the two of them had gotten used to it and ignored most of the voices, focusing on the task at hand. The difference that morning being that Aang was awake, and Aang didn’t know that she wasn’t their enemy anymore. 

“What are you doing?!” Aang’s voice broke through her concentration. A small gust of wind knocked her to one knee. Sokka’s inexperience didn’t give him the ability to pull back when going in for a strike and his sword glanced across her leg. 

Y/N didn’t feel it right away, in fact she thought he had missed until she looked down and saw the hole in her pants and the blood seeping through the fabric. It was the first blood they’d draw while sparring, and in the back of Y/N’s mind, she was thankful it was hers and not Sokka’s. 

“Oh shit. Oh shit, I am so sorry.” Sokka grasped her wrist and pulled it away so he could look at the wound. “Katara?!”

“It’s just a scratch.” Y/N waved her away after noticing that Aang was leaning heavily on his staff after airbending at her. “I’m fine, Katara.” 

“It’s like the size of my hand. Let her heal it,” Sokka protested. 

“Sokka,” Y/N growled through her teeth. “Let her help Aang first.” 

---

“Sorry, Aang. We should have told you when you woke up last night. I just didn’t want to overwhelm you,” Katara explained as she mended the gash on Y/N’s leg. The water soothed the sting, and when she was done all that was left was a pink scar. 

Aang rubbed his neck. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“No harm done. I probably would have reacted the same way if I saw someone beating up on my friend,” Y/N reassured. 

“You weren’t beating up on me,” Sokka muttered. He was quickly silenced with an elbow to the ribs, courtesy of Toph. 

“Maybe we should tell Twinkle-Toes what’s happened these last couple weeks.”

“Right, so after Ba Sing Se, we had to get you to safety. We went to Chameleon Bay and found Dad and the rest of his fleet. But the bay was full of Fire Nation ships and we wouldn’t stand a chance against them. So, we stole one.” Sokka gestured happily around him.

“So, what now?” Aang asked. “What are we going to do now that I’m awake?”

“My dad and I have been working on the invasion plan,” Sokka said. 

Y/N knew of the invasion plan. They didn’t act like they were trying to hide the plans from her, but it wasn’t like they included her in them either. 

“We won’t have the Earth King’s armies but we’ll have our allies from the Earth Kingdom, the eclipse and a surprise on our side.” Sokka wiggled his eyebrows. 

“What’s the surprise?” Aang asked suspiciously.

“You! The whole world thinks you’re dead! Isn’t that great?” Sokka jumped to his feet.

“Great?!” Aang stood up too, albeit unsteady, and leaned over the railing. “That’s terrible!”

“No, it’s great.” Sokka countered. “The Fire Nation won’t be hunting us anymore and they won’t expect you the day of Black Sun.” 

“No, no, no! You have no idea. This is so messed up!” Aang ran his hands through his short hair and opened his mouth to say something else when a foghorn interrupted him. 

Everyone’s faces whipped around in the direction of the sound. A Fire Nation ship was approaching. 

---

The five of them huddled on the staircase that led below deck, each one peeking their eyes (or ears) over the railing to catch what was happening. A metal gangplank was dropped between the ships and two soldiers and their captain approached Bato and Hakoda. Words were exchanged between the men but Y/N couldn’t hear a thing. 

“Gods, he looks familiar,” Y/N mumbled to herself. 

“Something’s wrong. They know!” Toph grabbed the edge and was about to haul herself over to tell everyone. 

But Y/N grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. “Wait.”

“What?!” she shrieked. 

Y/N ran up the steps. Sokka grabbed her calf but she shook him off and put on her most confident walk; long legged strides and her billowing cape hid her shaking hands. Y/N still wasn’t sure what she was doing. 

“Captain, what is going on?” She blinked at Hakoda and begged the spirits to tell him what she was doing. 

“My Lady,” He said gravely and Y/N held back a smile. “This Captain tells us that we need to be headed back to Ba Sing Se to support the occupation there.”

“Absolutely not!” She shouted.  

She stepped up on the gangplank and walked towards the three enemy soldiers who had frozen in the middle at her voice. “What is your name?” she pointed at the Captain.

He looked at her, taken aback. “I am Captain Sato. And who are you?” 

His eyes moved up and down her body and she stood a little taller. She put on her most diplomatic voice. “My name is Y/N, daughter of Commander Zhang. Right now you are delaying a very important mission. I command you to disembark our ship immediately and let us be on our way.”

Captain Sato let out a chuckle. “And what mission would that be? Your Captain is heading in the opposite direction of where he should be going and doesn’t even know which Admiral is in charge.” 

“That’s the point, you idiot! I’m on a secret mission for Fire Princess Azula; one of which you aren’t privy to the facts of and neither are they! Get off my ship!” 

He took an intimidating step towards her but Y/N didn’t back down. “I will be sending a messenger hawk to Capital City to confirm this, of course.” His voice was slimy, and she finally knew where she recognized him from. Some dinner party or something. His eyes always lingered too long. 

“You can do that, but know that I will be sending my own to make sure you are stripped of your title, stripped of your ship and you will go back to the Fire Nation as a disgrace. How does that sound, Captain Sato?” she sneered. 

She was met with silence. His face was red and he was breathing heavily. He wasn’t going to risk his job for his, Y/N knew it. “You’re free to go, My Lady.”

“Yes I am,” she growled. 

She marched back to Hakoda and Bato with wide eyes. She stood shoulder to shoulder with them as the Fire Nation ship pulled away. 

Toph grabbed her from behind and spun her around. “Y/N, I laughed so hard when you said you were going to strip him of his title, I thought they were going to be able to hear me.” The younger girl threw her head back and laughed some more. “Who even says ‘privy’?”

“You did good, kid.” Hakoda patted her shoulder, and that little action took a huge weight off her shoulders. Y/N let herself laugh loudly and freely along with Toph; she laughed so hard that she could barely pull a breath back in. 

“I–I don’t even remember what I said. I think I blacked out.” Y/N giggled again and she felt good. 

---

The ship docked in a Fire Nation port at dusk. Food was getting low on the ship but that was just the essentials they needed. It was also exhausting being at sea for so long. They all needed to stretch their legs on dry land. 

Toph, Sokka and Y/N waited just inside of town. It was beginning to get dark outside and Sokka was pacing. “Where are they? I’m starving.” 

“Calm down, Snoozles,” Toph said. “Katara said they’d be right behind us.”

“But what if they got captured? We are in the Fire Nation.” Without meaning it, he looked very pointedly at Y/N. She in turn, focused her eyes anywhere but him. 

“Wait!” Toph said. “I can hear Katara…” She trailed off and gave them both a confused look. “It’s just Katara.”

Y/N followed Sokka and Toph as they ran to meet her. 

“There you are!” Katara’s cheeks were red from running. “Aang is gone.”

“What? Where did he go?” Sokka inquired. 

“I don’t know! He said–he said he needed to redeem himself. He took his glider and left! I think he wants to finish this on his own. He said he needed to defeat the Fire Lord alone.” Katara shook her head, not even she could understand the reasoning behind it. 

“Well come on! We have to go find him!” Toph was already running back in the direction of the ship. Y/N hesitated, but then followed them. The least she could do is give them a proper send off when they took Appa. 

---

Katara climbed up and took the reins while Sokka and Toph clamored up into the saddle. Y/N opened her mouth, but she didn’t even know what to say. Was good-bye something even appropriate? Good luck? Sokka interrupted her thoughts and she realized she was standing there staring at them like a fish out of water. “What are you doing?”

“Saying goodbye?” Y/N replied. 

“Why are you saying goodbye?” Toph asked. She nudged Sokka in the arm. “Why is she saying goodbye?” 

“I’m not a part of your team.” Sokka and Katara shared a look. Y/N felt stupid, like she was missing something very important. 

“You’re coming with us,” Katara declared. “We thought you knew. You became a part of this the moment you fought with us, fought for us. Aang would want you here. I–We want you here.”

Y/N couldn’t help the small smile that drifted across her face. Finally, here was her answer. And it was as simple as Sokka leaning down to grab her hand and help her climb up Appa. She finally had a cause that she could be proud to serve. Because this was what it was all for; uniting the nations. And here they were, five kids doing it themselves on the back of a sky bison.

---

A/N: How do we feel, guys? Send me asks and messages bc i love hearing your feedback ❤️

I think I’m gonna let Toph say fuck in this fic. I don’t know exactly how Katara’s healing powers work when it comes to severity of wounds so I’m just making it up as I go. Also, I don’t know if I’ve made Y/N sound passive at all because of how Azula treated her but I want all of you to know that that is not her in my head at all. She is aggressive and vindictive, and despite all of her internal monologuing, she actually hates being told what to do. 

Taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @aangsupremacy @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey @fanficdepot @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @naanlianid @creation-magician @lunariasilver @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng @rockinearthbending-marauders @francesciak @thia-aep @aphrcditeee @milk-n-cheese @solarsuki @sendnuwudes @humbleseame @my--shitty--art @lovingcupcake51002 @loganrwebb

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1.2K~

Summary: Amidst their danger-fraught mission to retrieve Pyrope and Demantoid’s prisms, Pearl and Steven take a much needed break.

Finished playing Unleash the Light again the other day, and had some philosophical musings about it, which lead to this. XD There’s not many fics about this game that I’m aware of, so thought it would be fun to throw one of my own in the ring.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. Thank you! <3

____

Another key. Another lead on Demantoid’s whereabouts. Another hard battle won.

Pearl expected they’d meet some resistance from the prisms’ light constructs when they first arrived on the glittering, indigo-hued surface of Crystal System Colony 215, but she certainly didn’t imagine having to fight so many. Using her spear as a crutch, she slowly lowers her exhausted body to the ground, eager to take a short rest from their journey. She leans her head back against the rocks and sighs. Stars… there’s so much more diversity in their forms and attack strategy now. In their last two major outings with these sorts of light constructs, they were considerably weakened. Disorganized. But now, with two prisms working side by side once again, she’s beginning to recall why these tools were so feared by her comrades during the war. Running at their prime, they’re savvy. Self-regenerating. Able to clue into combatant’s weaknesses. Capable of multiplying into armies that can effortlessly eclipse a whole battalion of Crystal Gem soldiers. Good Gems were shattered on those battlefields.

In truth, reflecting upon those matters, she sorely wishes Steven wasn’t a part of this mission at all. He’s more than capable of holding his own in a fight, yes, but… in the most ideal of circumstances, that gentle soul should have nothing to do with the messy afterimages of his mother’s rebellion.

Her gaze lifts towards the sky for a moment, dark hazy purple and speckled with stars. How far they’ve traveled, she muses, how fervently they’ve fought… all in defense of this new era. In many ways it’s a miracle what they’ve created in just a year’s time, which is why she was unsurprised to learn of the aristocratic holdovers unwilling to voluntarily give up their seats of power. Still, they haven’t failed in their creed yet. As long as one Crystal Gem stands to brandish the star, the spirit of Era 3 is alive and well.

Just as she’s beginning to hum a peaceful melody to herself, basking in the gentle glow of the surrounding cosmos, she notices Steven making his way into the clearing, alone. Hmm. All the others are probably back at the cave entrance, busy strategizing for the next stretch of their mission. What led him to step away, though? Was he following her, or did he also crave a similar peace and quiet?  

The boy’s pace is sluggish, seemingly suffering from a similar (though undoubtedly more human) brand of exhaustion she herself feels, and his hands are shoved stiff in his pockets. He still wears that novelty backpack, but the prism they’ve befriended is nowhere to be seen. Interesting. Normally, George peeks his head out of the main zipper pouch as they journey. Perhaps he elected to stay and discuss strategy with the others instead. Regardless though, and as she feared, Steven appears considerably drained by their recent experiences. She watches as he clambers towards the rock formation across from her and gradually sinks into a seated position.

“Steven?” she asks, slowly pulling herself to her feet to cross over to him. “Are you holding up all right?”

He replies with just a noncommittal shrug at first, his expression void of any immediately recognizable emotion. Then, unzipping the cheese pocket of his backpack, he retrieves his water bottle and takes a long, long drink. He holds a single finger up as he rehydrates, signaling for her to wait.

Finally, after draining almost half the bottle, he caps the top again and opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m okay,” he says, wiping his lips dry with the back of his hand. “What about you? This… probably doesn’t bring back a lot of great memories, huh?”

“No,” she agrees with a wry smile. “Not really. That’s all right, though. We have more than enough strength on our side this time."

First taking a knee, she moves to sit next to him, folding her legs to the side. The boy shoots her a slightly quizzical glance, but doesn’t offer anything more. Pearl frowns.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks after a brief pause, brows creasing. “It looks like something’s bothering you.”

Steven purses his lips tight, blankly staring straight ahead as the gears in his head whir.  

“It’s—“ he starts, and hugs his knees to his chest. “It’s probably stupid, I don’t know, I guess I’m just… how are all these light constructs any different from us? We’ve had to fight dozens of them today, and… I know that probably shouldn’t eat at me, but it does. I don’t want to have to fight them. We literally have the same history! Diamonds make Gems,” he counts off on his fingers, “and Gems make prisms, and prisms make light— when do all these cycles stop? When does everyone finally get to stop fighting and be free? George found his freedom, so- so why not them?”

She folds her fingers together, roughly wringing them against one another as she considers the moral quandary he proposes. Admittedly it’s a truth she never committed much thought to back amidst the atrocities of the war— the fact that all of them… Gems, prisms, and constructs alike… are hewn from the very same hard light. They’re all programmed, made with distinct purpose. Thus, how far of a leap would it really be to suggest that they all possess some form of sentience? Some form of free will? Before meeting George, she didn’t think prisms were capable of such individual thinking, but they are. This universe is full of strange wonders.

So what else could she be wrong about?

She offers a thin, apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I don’t have any solid answers for you, but… you strike a valid point. Perhaps all of us aren’t so different.”

“D’ya really think so?” he says, his eyes glimmering with stars, seemingly overjoyed to have convinced her of this.

She gives a short chuckle, reaching out a slender hand to ruffle his hair. “You’ve long since shown me that anything’s possible.”

The boy grins at her affectionate touch, appearing far more relaxed now than when he first sat down. Good. If they’re gonna succeed in retrieving these last two prisms, they’ll need him in high spirits. His encouragement, healing powers, and support has been paramount to this mission so far. In the far distance Amethyst’s laughter rings, reminding her both of the Gems she loves, and the trials they’ve yet to face together. To be honest, she has no way of guessing how many battles they have left to fight. But… regardless of outcome… there is one possibility that’s always worth striving for. Gently, she rests her hand upon Steven’s shoulder.

“Listen…” she says softly, “I don’t know how successful we’d be reasoning with the light constructs directly, but if you ever sense a good moment to try and settle this issue with Demantoid and Pyrope peacefully, I want you to take that chance, all right? For everyone’s sake.”

Steven nods in full seriousness, taking her words to heart.

A faint smile dusts her lips as she pulls the young teen closer, allowing him to nestle his head against her chest like he always used to do when he was but a kid. “And for the record? You’re definitely not the only one who’s tired of fighting.”

[xonepeacelovex]

my cinderella prince

Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader

Genre: Angst and Fluff | Friends to Lovers AU

Summary: You’ve been waiting for a text message but you got different message this time.

Warning: Alcohol consumption. Also not proofread. 

A/N: This is the result of binge reading all of Mark Tuan’s fan fictions. This is also my first GOT7 fanfiction. I know I did an incorrect quotes before for GOT7. :) Anyway, this is lowkey based on real life and I wrote this for closure because I had enough of the waiting game. I’m letting people go so new ones can come in in my life. Feel free to send me a message or ask. Thank you for reading!

10... 9... 8...

Everyone around you is shouting the countdown and already popping the bottle of champagne. Different colors and shapes of fireworks light up the night sky, making everyone more excited and at awe. 

7... 6... 5... 

Four seconds before the clock strikes 12, and the beginning of the new year. You look at your phone and scroll the notifications. You are met with notifications from Instagram from the pictures you are tagged in and a few last minute greetings from your family and friends. Deciding to answer the greetings later you press the power button of your phone. Getting the open bottle of red wine and pouring yourself a drink. Finally smiling, relieved that the year is ending. Quietly joining the countdown. 

3... 2... 1...

People clinking their glasses and you simply raises yours, smiling warmly to everyone. You sip from your glass and started greeting everyone a happy new year. Though New Year’s Eve is something you always celebrated, you sometimes still get overwhelm with how noisy it can be. 

After drinking everything on your glass, you put it down on the table and started your little quest of finding a quiet place in this party. You followed a couple heading upstairs, head shaking at how the holidays spread love and happiness in the air and somehow forgot someone like you. You found an open empty balcony, a perfect place to clearly see the fireworks.

You felt your phone vibrates on your pocket, instinctively getting it. You open your phone, a smile on your face, kinda expecting a message from a particular person, only for your smile to turn into frown when it is another notification from Instagram. 

Disappointment should be the last emotion you should feel tonight. Yet somehow, you cannot stop yourself from feeling it, mostly for the fact that he didn’t missed a single greeting for the last 10 years. Sighing deeply, trying to shake off the sadness bubbling in your chest. 

Looking up, the fireworks are still decorating the sky. In some way, being alone makes you feel less lonely. Downstairs everyone has someone to put their arms around and kiss when the clock strikes 12. Here, in a balcony, watching the night sky alone, actually makes you feel good. Promising yourself that this year you will celebrate your birthday and new year on a beach, somewhere where it is okay to be alone and not look at with pity because you don’t have someone beside you. 

Perhaps its the alcohol taking over your system, the one responsible for your thoughts. Who told you its a good thing to pre game before coming to a New Year’s Eve party, where you’ll surely drink just before your limit? Slowly breathing in the polluted air of the city, hoping it will help you sober up a little.

You left the balcony in search for a bottle of water, you cannot let yourself get too drunk. When you found a glass of clear liquid, you drank it immediately without much thinking it will be an alcohol in which it is. You take a sharp breath, feeling the burn in your throat. Feeling light headed you immediately went back to your own little space for a fresh air. 

And possibly it is really the alcohol taking over your system when you saw a familiar face in the balcony. Mark Tuan. 

You stumbled forward, not believing that the man you waited a text message from for a whole night is in front of you. Steadying yourself, you take a careful steps this time, towards Mark. Where you think you looked like shit, he is casually leaning against the balcony rail, looking handsome and cool. You think, he didn’t remember you at all at how he just stare at you or maybe its because he knows you and cannot believe that you are drunk already. 

Ten years is a long time to change. And high school for you is the worst era of your life so it should not be a surprised that you will be different from what he knew back then and the same goes for him. 

After a long time, you finally reached the balcony, grabbing the rail for support. You can see clearly now his face and from the way he smiles at you, you know he knows you. You returned his smile with a grin, “Tuan,” greeting him like before. “Y/L/N,” he replied, smiling widely this time. 

You forced yourself to look at the fireworks and stop the urge to keep staring at Mark, breathing in the air to sober you up. With the faint noise of people chattering in the background, he said to you softly, “Happy New Year.”  Blissfully, or in reality half yelling, you greeted him back “Happy New Year!”, looking at him in the eyes.

It is silly to be disappointed at him for not greeting you on your birthday when you are barely friends even back in high school. Besides he just message you every December 31 and after that like a silent agreement between you two, no one will dare to start a conversation for a whole year unless its December 31 again. 

Once in a while, Mark crosses your mind and in some way you always felt a connection between you two. You maybe treat each other as a friend or less than that but you always knew the relationship is special because what kind of friends only texted each other once in a year. 

It is funny to back read your conversation, it is only every December 31. The thought that you never greeted him in his birthday made you feel guilty. In addition to that guilt, you felt disappointed at him because he didn’t greet you yesterday when you never greeted him. Losing the smile on your face, you simply look up again at the sky. 

It is not a baseless assumption but an educated intuition, you like to word it like that, that maybe Mark really did have feelings for you. You are not a kind of person to believe in rumors especially if it is not from him directly. But all of your friends before always teases you to Mark. Whenever that happened, he just say sorry to you and you’ll dismiss it like a joke because of how embarrassed he looks like. Not wanting to be awkward with each other because of the teasing. So even though everyone says Mark likes you, you go ahead and found yourself a boyfriend. The teasing stopped and Mark also stayed away from you. That’s why him greeting you after high school surprised you because he knows and he apparently still treats you as a friend.

Definitely, you still like to avoid awkwardness so when the silence filled the room, you decided you should already go home. Even though 10 years is a long time to gather enough stories to entertain each other. Letting go of the balcony rail, leaning against it instead. Mark also lets go of the rail, this time turning his body to you. 

You chuckle at how awkward you both are, no one is expecting to see each other. “I’ll get going,” you said to him, standing up straight now. You don't want to seem drunk to Mark so you tried your best to walk straightly not until he stop you by grabbing your arm. Pulling you towards him, making you dizzy, stumbling upon him. “Wait,” he said while balancing you in his arms, “I have something to say,” that made you even more dizzy. 

Putting your hands against his chest for support, you tried to stand up alone. When you did, you remove your hands from his body, “Go ahead,” you replied to him.

“Happy birthday,” the greeting you are waiting for. Heart beating wildly against you chest, you smile at him, genuinely happy that he didn’t forget, “Thank you.”  

After this night, you’ll never see him again. You are sure. No need for your heart to beat fast for him, because like before, there will be no words spoken and the hearts will still remain clueless. And you can’t play this game anymore, not when you feel emotions you didn’t felt before for him like disappointment and guilt. Because he’s just a friend who always remember your birthday, nothing more, nothing less. You will not ask for more from the universe, you started walking away. You are maybe, once again, taking Mark for granted. Actually you’ll never know because he never said anything, leaving you in the middle.

What Mark did when he saw you leaving again after giving him that breathtaking smile was to pull you back... again. You found yourself in his arms, clinging to him. You are taken aback with Mark’s actions. You looked at him, confused, “Do you anything else to say?”, tired of this push and pull between you and Mark.

“Yes, and I hope I am not too late,” he said nervously, still holding your arms. You chuckle at him, “Mark, you already greeted me a happy birthday,” tilting your head to look at his eyes which is avoiding yours. “You also greeted me already a happy new year,” you reminded him. 

“No, it’s not about that,” this time he took a deep breath. “It took me years to finally have the courage and maybe a glass of wine to tell you this,” he stopped,  holding your hands in his, “I like you since high school,” he confessed and that left you speechless. “I want to talk to you everyday but I don’t have an excuse except when its your birthday,” Mark continued. “It’s okay if you don-,” that’s when you decided to cut him off with a kiss that surprised him initially but he returned with the same eagerness. 

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for this,” smiling, you whispered against his lips. Mark also smiles, biting his lower lip when he heard you say those words. Now you know why Mark just messages you once in a year. 

Copyright © 2021 xonepeacelovex All rights reserved.

[greatcheesiness]

Heartbreak

Pairing: Ex-Husband!Atsumu x reader

Genre: Angst, sad

Words: 1.3k (pretty short)

Warnings: NSF- nah i’m just kidding xd, mentions of death

Completed: 20/10/2020 01:56

A/n: Umm, this is my first story on tumblr. So bear with me if it’s bad. I’ll try my best to improve in the future. Needed to vent so I wrote this for my favorite character Atsumu (that many seem to dislike 0.0) I hope you enjoy the story tho! It’s a bit short and it’s like almost two in the morning. I wish I could go into more detail on Miya’s perspective *smiles cheerfully*

~_~

Your eyes fluttered opened and the constant beep of the heart monitor continued. You lifted your trembling arms to your face. The crustiness from excess mucus, dried tears and exfoliated skin were irritating your vision. You blinked a couple of times to feel the comfort of opening your eyes again. 

Suddenly, a light knock was heard before someone gained entry into your bleached scent room. It was a young nurse who took care of you for the past couple of months. Such a delightful lady taking her job as if it came natural to her. “Good morning Mrs Miya. How are you feeling today?” she asked as she pushed a tray filled with medications and medical equipment. We’re doing this again aren’t we?

“I woke up just now so I don’t know how I’m feeling right now…”.The nurse’s eyes softened at your response. Silence set between the both of you verbally and only the sound of the nurse handling little boxes of pills was heard. Your orbs lingered at the lady. She faced you and ambled towards you with a cup of water in hand as well two pills.

“It’s time to take your medication Mrs Miya” she smiled caringly. You sighed as you received them. You popped the pills into your mouth and drank the cup of water. She waited patiently. After you finished, both of ye did a few things after. It was the same old thing scheduled almost every day. A typical day of an old woman with a heart disease.

Now you were left alone in your box-shaped room. There was no presence besides yourself. You felt so isolated and no doubt, an emotion of loneliness lingered in the chambers of your heart. That didn’t help your heart condition you admit. You exhaled. You could still taste the remaining of the med. Tasted bitter as the bitter life you had. You could endure it. No problem.

People say, if you go to the hospital, you’ll get better and better as days pass by. If only it could apply the same to you. You weren’t getting better. You just felt constant. Even worse, you felt as if your chances of living were decreasing as each day passed. You smirked. The wrinkles formed around your eyes and lips. After all, you’re just a test subject. You only realized that what the nurse gave was a placebo.

Suddenly, you started to cough. Your weak bony arms stabilized your upper body as you kept expelling sudden air from your weak lungs. Your eyes were closed shut and little tears threatened to spill out. “It hurts. It hurts a lot…” you managed to mutter. You clenched your hands and lightly tapped the left side of your chest. It seemed like you were trying to reassure his heart. His heart…

You gripped onto your cyan hospital shirt, scrunching the material. You tried your best to live the healthiest life and you did, to some extent. You took care of your heart as if it was your most prized possession. Of course. Without it, you wouldn’t be living… But this heart you have belongs to him. Atsumu’s…

You could feel a striking pain at your source of life. Was he also hurting just as much as you? Salty essence dropped onto the knitted blanket. You quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the night stand and dowsed your dry itchy throat to moisture. Your red swollen eyes stared at your left.

I’m so sorry

Atsumu

You cried as your twenty five year old self sat on the hospital bed. You didn’t want to die. You were too scared of death. You didn’t want to die this early. You have so much to experience in life. You just got married…

Someone held your hand for support as you sobbed for ages. His hands felt warm and that provided a small bit of comfort. He tightened his grip. He gently wiped the tears off of your puffy under eye. You sniffed due to congestion from endless crying.

Finally, you calmed down. You couldn’t create anymore. Atsumu brushed the hairs away to get a clear look at your face. He stared into your eyes. You did the same to him, not realizing you made a pout with your lips. His hazel eyes were bottomless and soulful. His eyes tells a lot of stories and just by gazing into them, you know what he’s thinking.

He’s telling you that it’s alright. You will live. Promise.

After a minute of not saying anything, he leaned and gave you a deep kiss. As cliche as it sounds, you melted into his. You almost forgot about your mental breakdown you had just a minute ago. He needed you to let go of that sadness. Don’t be like that when he’s here. He wants to make you happy. Cheer you up.

His lips left yours and he rested his forehead onto yours. Both of ye didn’t care of the sweat that formed. Your throbbing heart subsided. All thanks to him.

Every day after practicing with division 1 team, he would visit you. The two of ye would have talks about whatever that sparks your attention. He was the epitome of delectation and happiness for you. You guessed happiness was the only medication that worked wonders for you. All thanks to Atsumu…

Until one day.

He came in to your room as usual. You closed the book in your hand as all your focus was on him. A smile etched on your face. But then, your smile faded. “Atsumu… Is something wrong??” you asked. You were worried. Why was he wearing that kind of face? Did came in contact with the doctor? If he did, what did the doctor say?

At last, his eyes landed on you. You continued to look at him for an answer. He smiled softly at you and said “Someone’s willing to give you a heart”

Your eyes widened. You were happy for at least sixteen seconds until the seventeen second began. Atsumu handed you a letter. You were to read it after the surgery. Your brows scrunched.

Why did you feel like you were going to regret this?

Little did you know, the regret burned you slowly like flowing lava once you woke up with stitches on the left side of your chest and no Atsumu by your side anymore.

Time really went by. Thirty years had passed until this present moment. You felt cold and shivers ran up your protruding spine. It was night time already. You gently laid your back on the hard pillow provided by the nurse. A white celestial being imprinted on the night sky.

“The moon looks beautiful, Atsumu” You said huskily. It was meant to be said indirectly. There was no response. Of course there wouldn’t. He’s dead.

You let the tranquility calm you down as you shut your eyes. You were no longer scared of death. You had everything ticked off your bucket list. But you haven’t fulfilled some. Especially when they included your deceased husband.

While your eyes were closed, you could imagine him waiting for you in the afterlife. You began to feel numb and your heart rate was decreasing. You grinned as you see him in his MSBY jersey and shorts with a volleyball in his hands. Finally, you could see him clearly.

“I can’t wait to be with you again…”

You felt yourself being reversed in time for youth. You were young again. Your legs dragged you towards him in a rush. Your soul left your body.

This time you died. You took care of his heart for thirty years. He was always with you without you even noticing. He gave you his heart because he couldn’t live without you. But now that didn’t matter. Both of you are together again.

This time in a different world where there’s no heartbreaks...

[itsuki-minamy]

“SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 3: “START LINE!” (Complete)

* K - Six Idols (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"Are you sane?"

That was Saruhiko Fushimi's first sentence in response to the offer.

"Fushimi! How do you say that to the president!"

Seri Awashima's scolding flew quickly. Her expression, with her shapely eyebrows and a depressing look, is beautiful and terrifying. Most of the idols would be shaking and flat-headed.

However, Fushimi was no ordinary idol. He gave Awashima a terrible moment and then said...

"Deputy Director. You thought the same thing, right? You can't do that, but if you do, the reputation of this office will collapse."

"Hmmm…!"

Awashima's eyebrows turned more upside down, but she refused to say anything else. From what he could see, Awashima probably has the same opinion as Fushimi.

He took a quick look at "Idol King", Reisi Munakata from "Promotion Scepter 4".

"I don't think it's sensible to be on a talk show."

So…

That was the offer Munakata made to Fushimi.

Darkening his stagnant eyes, Fushimi said that directly to the president.

"You think I have something to talk about in such a ridiculous place? It's horrible to think about having to put up with shitty small talk. I don't want to breathe the same air. Please decline."

Awashima put her thin finger to her forehead and sighed deeply.

"You're..."

Rather than scold, Fushimi distorts only the edge of his mouth and laughs at Awashima's surrender tone.

"That's why it's not suitable. I can't entertain the viewer with a story, even if it's a request from the 'Idol King'."

Fushimi looked at Munakata.

As usual, a soft smile floats on Munakata's face.

"If it's just singing and dancing, that's fine. I reject anything else."

"I see."

Munakata took charge of one and suddenly turned his gaze to the side. Fushimi had to control himself when he was caught and was about to move his face away from him. Even if he took his eyes off, he shouldn't. Right after that, he felt like he was going to lose something.

After a few seconds of silence that seemed to crush him, Munakata fluttered.

"Awashima-kun. Do you think so too?"

Awashima unconsciously stretched her back after being shaken by the question.

"No, in my opinion, the president's decisions should not be questioned."

"I'm not telling you to endorse my suggestions. I am listening to your suggestions."

Awashima bit her lip. Fushimi looks at her in a funny way.

Seri Awashima is an idol who belongs to "Promotion Scepter 4". She is extremely popular as an actress and she is also the deputy director of this office. There are many entertainment magazines that write three-page articles on Awashima, who supports Munakata both in public and in private, but if you look at Fushimi, it is a comedy.

Munakata and Awashima are master-servants who are completely walled in and there is no male and female emotion there.

After caring for Awashima for a long time, he was sure that she would support Munakata.

"I have the same opinion as Fushimi. Fushimi definitely lacks the ability to be considered essential for talk shows, the ability to react according to the atmosphere of the place."

On the contrary, it was comforting to say it so clearly. Fushimi shakes his shoulders slightly and laughs.

Awashima continues.

"It is clearer than looking at the fire what will happen if it appears in such a show. It will respond to the words of the moderator with thorns, it will freeze the air in the place, and if there is a great man in the place, the feelings of that person also will be bad. If such a program were to air, it could cause a drop in the image of "Promotion Scepter 4", not to mention the popularity of Fushimi."

"I see."

Munakata smiled, muttering again.

"In other words, it means, 'I can't do it because I can't do it.'

"……"

"I couldn't do it until now, so I'm sure I can't do it. That's why I won't. You can't do it because I won't. I see, it certainly makes sense. I'm sure you can't even stand on two legs in such a place."

Fushimi's face was blurred.

"Who said I can't?"

At Fushimi's statement, Awashima was quick to reply.

"Hmm, Fushimi? Calm down!"

"I just don't want to do that, so I won't."

"Well that's even more surprising. 'You can do it, but you don't want to.' It's usually an excuse like an elementary school student, right?"

"What?"

"President! Please stop!"

Awashima's restraint was empty and echoed in the president's office. Looks like she could see it. What kind of route did she expect in the future and how will she get involved.

The same was seen in Fushimi.

That's why he showed a vain smile as a resistance as strong as possible.

"Do you have the soul to provoke me and let me do it? It's useless. I know what you have in your hands."

"If you know, you're fast, because you know I'm not such a childish copycat."

Fushimi stood out after the last stand was crushed.

Munakata turned his face slightly. The angle of reflection of the light changed and his glasses glowed brightly.

"Fushimi Saruhiko. This is the president's order. Appear on a talk show. If you can, do it. If you can't, do it."

Facing Fushimi, who distorted his face in anger, and Awashima, who had a pale face, Reisi Munakata showed a dignified smile suitable for the "Blue Idol King".

"If you can't pull this, off quit "Promotion Scepter 4"."

++++++++++

Saruhiko Fushimi is a flower-shaped idol in "Promotion Scepter 4", both in name and in reality.

His popularity is just a word. The number of viewers is less than that of Reisi Munakata, who is an "Idol King", but unlike him, who also serves as the office representative, his exposure as an idol is extremely high. With an overwhelming performance in both singing and dancing, he is the center of the special unit "Shoumutai".

On the other hand, his humanity is not very well received. He is not profitable or domineering, but he is hostile. It is extremely rare to see him smile even in front of fans, and some image that captures that rare smile is taken at a very high price in online auctions etc.

Quiet, unfriendly and lonely idol.

That would be Fushimi's public assessment.

Fushimi thought the evaluation wasn't bad. That was the case, and if it were known, it would not be associated with silly stories. Originally, Fushimi was a person who hated to socialize, and even hearing uninteresting jokes and useless stories, it made him sick.

It was an impossible request for him to appear on a talk show, smile and wave kindly.

"Fu, fu, fu…"

He followed the prescribed steps as he breathed heavily. He stretched out his arms, ducked, turned sharply, and jumped high. From the headphones plugged into his ears, his routine flowed incessantly, forcing him to dance incessantly.

"Promotion Scepter 4". About 8 hours after returning to the "Aoun Bedroom" where the idols from the president's office belong...

He was engrossed in those lessons all the time, except for a short break.

Of course, it was not a necessary practice. If it's his song, Fushimi can dance with his eyes closed and his ears covered. Dance was a physical movement for Fushimi, just as he didn't have to think about it to walk.

So why does he keep practicing mindlessly?

If he sweats and moves his body, he doesn't have to think about anything else.

(Tsk… Damn… Shit!)

Still, Munakata's line emerged between the songs and each rhythm of the dance, and Fushimi had to distort his face each time.

(You can't do it because you can't.)

(I can do it, but I don't want to do it, so I won't.)

(Excuse like an elementary school student.)

"Shit!"

The moment he exhaled irritation in an angry voice, his concentration altered.

Sweat dripped onto the wooden floor, down the back of the worn dance shoes. Fushimi collapsed forward unable to assume a passive role.

"Tsk..."

He bit his back teeth.

When he raised his face, he saw himself lying in a mirror that filled the entire wall.

Sticky anger spread across his chest.

"No, hey...!"

Squeezing a piercing voice from deep in his throat, Fushimi tried to get up again.

At that moment, he opened the door to the lesson room.

"Fushimi-san. Please take a break soon."

Looking back, Akiyama Himori stood there.

It wasn't just Akiyama. Benzai and Kamo were also behind. Among the units to which Fushimi belongs, the so-called "adults".

With that alone, he was able to read most of the circumstances.

Fushimi got up and walked over to the plastic bottle placed near the wall.

"No matter how much I train, you don't care."

When he lifted the plastic bottle, he was light enough to shake. He seems like he had consumed it all before he knew it.

Benzai shook his shoulders and laughed.

"It doesn't matter. Fushimi-san, you are the center."

"Tsk."

Fushimi crouched on the spot with an irony.

"It's a light meal."

Kamo, holding a basket woven from wisteria, opened it in front of Fushimi. Bacon sandwich and mineral water. Facing them, Fushimi finally remembered that he hadn't eaten anything since he returned.

He took it in silence and brought it to his mouth. Fushimi, who chews on the scented golden buns, raises his eyebrows, pours it with water, and then swallows it.

"…Good."

"I'm used to it."

Kamo smiled and said that he was a cook before becoming an idol. When "Shoumutai" meets at midnight, they often gather in Kamo's room in anticipation of his meals.

After eating completely, Fushimi turned his stagnant eyes towards Akiyama and his friends.

"So what are you doing?"

"I am here by order of the president. You are still an irrational person."

"What are you talking about?"

"Both."

Akiyama sat there with his knees aligned. He has a unique history of being a former soldier, and the appearance of he sitting down from him is quite striking.

"Please let us help you, Fushimi-san. You are the center of the 'Dream Corps'. If you continue as you are now, you will greatly disappoint the expectations of the fans."

"……"

"You know that, Fushimi-san. This time, it won't be business as usual. It's a talk. The other part is absolutely necessary."

Fushimi fell silent at Akiyama's theory.

Fushimi Saruhiko is the center of "Shoumutai". However, contrary to his standing position, he rarely appears throughout practice. He believes that there is no point in hanging out with others and slowing down his performance. Fushimi fascinates with the best songs and dances. It was Fushimi's general acknowledgment, no, the body of hesitation that the other members just had to follow him.

So far, that was fine. They were able to offer customers satisfactory performance.

However, Akiyama said that he is different now.

Fushimi tried to swallow what he told him.

"So, are you trying to turn those hiding behind the door into my fellow practitioners?"

From outside the room, a sign of discomfort was felt.

The other members of "Shoumutai" look at their faces. Apparently everyone was waiting outside because they were worried about Fushimi. With Domyoji on top, Fuse, Enomoto, Goto, and Hidaka enter the room.

Akiyama looks at them and looks back at Fushimi.

"They are very experienced in conversations and they know how to behave on stage. They are great practice partners. Besides, they all want to help you, Fushimi-san."

Akiyama was looking seriously at Fushimi's face. The other members also had a serious expression to support the words. They certainly wanted to help Fushimi.

However, Fushimi didn't have the spirituality to be impressed to find out.

He didn't think that was all, but it is true that he felt it was extra care. That person's temperament for warmth and compassion may be weak by nature.

And all the members of "Shoumutai" including Akiyama knew it.

"I am well aware that it is an extra step, and then Fushimi-san, please. Practice it on yourself. That is…"

Akiyama advances on his knees,

"It's work. Work is perfect. That's the motto of 'Shoumutai'."

Fushimi frowned and, after a brief moment, replied.

"...That's it. Damn it."

++++++++++

"Good evening everyone! It's 'Let's Talk' time again this week! The moderator is me and Andy Domyoji!"

"It is a great honor to be here. Thank you."

Fushimi was trying to calm his mind by thinking of a suicide method while he was facing light talk from Domyoji and Akiyama.

Of course, it is not production. Fushimi decided to participate in the fictional talk show "Let's Talk" as a guest because he thought it would be better to get closer to the real situation if he was practicing anyway.

The MC is Domyoji, the assistant is Akiyama, and the other members are regulars, behind Fushimi. MC Domyoji was the one who entered the room, as he only appeared on variety shows with a pin.

"Alright, let's call our special guest! Akiyama-san, I never thought this person would come."

"Yes. It's Saruhiko Fushimi from the center of "Shoumutai". Please applaud him."

Probably because they are from the "Dream Corps", but Fushimi walks up to the two of them, keeping the dip in the back of his throat. The applause from the other members is cold.

Fushimi stepped forward in front of Domyoji and Akiyama, hands in pockets and back huddled.

That was all, but for some reason there was silence.

"……?"

Domyoji's face was still drawn, although he didn't look at it. Akiyama looked at Fushimi with a serious face as usual. What? When he thought about it, Domyoji whispered...

"Fushimi-san, introduce yourself! Come on, introduce yourself!"

"Oh. Fushimi Saruhiko."

"What are you saying! Tell the camera!"

He turns his face to the one pointing there. When he turned his upper body to that side and murmured his name in the same way, Domyoji held his head.

"It's not like that, Fushimi-san, haven't you seen a talk show?!"

"No."

When he replied softly, Domyoji's face turned blue in a funny way. As he exposed his mouth to him, he looked towards Akiyama as if he was seeking salvation. Akiyama didn't panic at all and turned his attention to whoever was behind Fushimi.

"You. Let’s go."

"Yes, yes."

The one who stood up suddenly was Goto Ren, the weirdo from "Shoumutai". He didn't have a private relationship (or rather, Fushimi has almost no private relationships), but he knows that he has many hobbies that he doesn't understand. This is because of Goto's strange hobbies that are always rolling in "Shoumutai's" dressing room.

Akiyama was in a serious tone with Goto, who came forward with a noble look.

"Present yourself."

"Yes."

Goto turned towards the expected direction of the camera without any hesitation. He swings one arm wide as if to point into the distance

"Hello everyone, this is Goto Ren from the "Dream Corps". The instrument I recently started playing is the sanshin. Nice to meet you~"

Then Goto returned to the place that was supposed to be the audience and sat down.

After Akiyama finished the demonstration, he turned his confident gaze towards Fushimi.

"This is how you do it."

"What?"

Akiyama continues his words, ignoring Fushimi's fall.

"It's not just the name you need to introduce yourself on the talk show. There you have to show what kind of person your "character" Saruhiko Fushimi is. If you look at the current self-introduction, you will see everyone who does not know Goto say "Oh this guy is kind of weird"."

"Well, it's terrible."

As expected, Goto looks hurt too, but Akiyama still doesn't care.

"Based on that, Fushimi-san, please try again."

"Tsk."

He doesn't help even if he clicks his tongue. Fushimi looks at the supposed camera. He glances at an empty space with a wet look, muttering...

"I am Saruhiko Fushimi from "Shoumutai". Nice to meet you."

"Hm..."

Domyoji crossed his arms and frowned.

"I wonder... I feel like the air will freeze if we put him on the show as is..."

"If that happens, it's a shame for the 'Dream Corps'. We have to avoid it."

"I wonder if you understand!"

Anger at seeing him invaded the two MCs. People in the audience also start talking secretly and it feels like a show. If this is a dance lesson, focus.

He left him alone and went out, but the fact that it was a conversation practice barely stopped Fushimi.

This is because Fushimi is undoubtedly the one with the least ability to speak. Losing yourself is the same as incompetence wrapping around his tail and running away.

He doesn't like to run away. Now that he has decided to do it, he has to go through it.

At that moment, one of the audience members raised his hand. Domyoji quickly noticed and pointed at him.

"Yes, Enomoto!"

"Ah, yes, thank you. I am Tatsuya Enomoto."

Tatsuya Enomoto, a weak-looking young man with glasses, stood up from the audience. As he glances at Fushimi, he voices his opinion.

"Huh... How about you say your hobbies or special abilities like Goto did before?"

"Oh! Yes! Fushimi-san, do you have any hobbies or special abilities?"

Fushimi thought for a bit and then responded by muttering.

"My hobby is cracking."

"Dazzling project! Never say it at the table!"

"Special ability is singing and dancing."

"Well, it's a 'Dream Corps', right? No, okay?"

"Oh, I see."

Akiyama and Domyoji understand each other. Fushimi asked without understanding the meaning.

"What do you mean?"

"So is."

"Let's call today's special guest. This is Saruhiko Fushimi!"

In response to Domyoji's call, Fushimi stands up and walks in front of the camera. Changes that have been made many times. But he no longer thinks it's stupid. This is the "practice". The practice is meaningful over and over again, repeating the same thing tirelessly.

Fushimi stood in front of the camera. he exhales small and strong. Right before the live starts, like when you go up on the dark stage and wait for the spotlight to come on.

And Fushimi kicked the ground.

He made two tight turns on the spot. He took steps and moved his hands to cut, deciding a vivid pose. It is a movement infiltrated by genes that has been repeated hundreds and thousands of times.

It's only about three seconds in time, but he certainly speaks eloquently. What kind of person is Saruhiko Fushimi?

Fushimi says, looking at the camera with a gentle gaze.

"I am Saruhiko Fushimi from the 'Dream Corps'. My special ability is to be here now. Nice to meet you."

The exclamation of "Oh…" came from the other members of the audience.

Although the number of people was small, there was also a huge applause at the same time. Fushimi looks at them without emotion. He just did what he could, but apparently they were satisfied with his eyes used to speaking.

"That's it, Fushimi-san! Let's go with this!"

Domyoji enthusiastically holds his fist. Fushimi looks at Domyoji suspiciously.

"You only danced for a moment. Do you always do it live like this?"

"It's okay with that. There are a lot of people who haven't seen Fushimi-san's live show. For those people, that momentary dance is just amazing."

When he heard Akiyama's calm analysis, he wondered if this was the case.

"But it can be a little friendlier. Can you make it a little friendlier?"

"No, this is fine for Domyoji and Fushimi. Since they are originally known to be hostile, it can be said that the characters are more consistent. After that, you just have to say something that stops the flow of the story."

"Sure! Then Fushimi-san, let's practice speaking in that direction!"

They don't know what the address is, but they seemed to be motivated by it. Fushimi was clicking his tongue, looking into their eyes.

++++++++++

And that day has arrived.

Just two weeks after Munakata called him into the president's office and forced him to host a talk show.

Fushimi spent a restless time in THK's (NHK) dressing room.

THK is a broadcasting station operated by a government approved production "Tokijikuin Agency". Despite the operation of the idol entertainment agency, the programs that are broadcast are all solid, such as news and documentaries. This is probably due to the nature of Japan's strongest "Idol King", Kokujoji Daikaku, who is the representative of "Tokijikuin Agency".

That doesn't mean there are no variety shows.

The show "Idol NEO", which Fushimi is about to appear on, is a show with a cutting-edge concept for THK, in which famous and unknown idols were invited to talks and variety shows.

There are many idols who like the attitude of chasing variety shows with the seriousness of THK, and Isana Yashiro, one of the "idol kings," is said to appear as a regular fixture.

While acting, Fushimi saw the past "Idol NEO" several times.

The program itself is a concept that combines conversation, planning and control. Fushimi is called in the chat part and seems to be in a position to insert comments looking at the project and the contest.

Overall, it is a smooth, peaceful, THK-like program.

Therefore, Fushimi was heavy and inevitable.

Even though he has been doing special talk training with the "Shoumutai" for two weeks, he was not sure he could do the same performance in production, rather, he did not want to do it. Just imagining himself chatting with a creepy smile in a calm and peaceful environment made him want to die.

(Alright! Fushimi-san can stay hostile! That's the character.)

Domyoji and others emphasized that, but Fushimi didn't like the concept of "character" in the first place. Other than that, he is smart and unfriendly. He doesn't like to talk to people in vain, he just doesn't want them to delve into themselves.

For Fushimi, appearing on a talk show amounts to torture.

(But it's work.)

Those two words barely contain Fushimi here.

Glanced up. The mirror stand in the dressing room reflects the earthy color of him. Fushimi stood up with a distorted face and a sneer that never reached anyone.

He hit the ground with his feet and then made a sharp turn. He walked moving his limbs and decided a pose. It was a momentary dance that he had decided to do when he introduced himself.

His appearance in the mirror was hilarious.

He kicked the chair in front of him for no reason.

The chair rolled on the floor with a loud noise. By that time, Fushimi had already opened the dressing room door and stepped out.

He walked down the hall quickly. All the staff and talents that came across gave in as soon as they saw Fushimi's appearance.

Fushimi, who was walking through the dark clouds, finally came out.

It appears to be a resting place just outside the studio. Two vending machines and a bank. Fortunately, there was no one. Fushimi stopped by a vending machine and bought unsweetened canned coffee.

"Tsk."

He opened the can and put it in his mouth, cursing, but there was no one to notice.

At that moment, he heard a voice behind the vending machine.

"Saruhiko?"

He was about to drop the canned coffee.

From the other side of the vending machine, a familiar girl was staring at his face.

A beautiful girl like a western doll with closed eyes and pure white hair. Although she was not even a high school student, she was not good for Fushimi because she had a distinctive atmosphere.

Her name is Anna Kushina.

A proud top idol of "Homura Entertainment Office" and former colleague of Fushimi.

However, Fushimi and Anna were silent human beings, and since they were separated for years, there was almost no contact. To Fushimi, Anna is only recognized as a girl who wandered alongside "Red Idol King" Mikoto Suoh.

However, Anna got up from the bench and looked at Fushimi.

He wasn't good at that look. He felt that she could see through his heart.

"What happens?"

When he asked her bluntly, Anna blinked and pointed to the vending machine.

"That."

Looking at the dot, there was a bright red canned juice on the vending machine display. It had the image of a large strawberry.

"It's red and it's really delicious."

After thinking about it for a moment and saying "Ah…", he notices it.

Anna's height doesn't even reach the juice button.

"Do you want me to buy it for you?"

Anna looked at Fushimi with a serious look. After blinking twice, she lowered her forehead.

"……"

Fushimi took a deep breath, stopped and, instead of answering "I don't like it, it's stupid.", he exhaled deeply.

He wasn't sure why he decided to do it. However, when he found out, Fushimi had already taken the coins out of his wallet and put them in the vending machine.

Anna hurriedly pulled out the wallet she had in her pocket.

"This…"

"I don't want it. It's just change."

Fushimi tells Anna to put it away and gives her the canned juice that came out. Anna was fuzzily clutching her wallet for a moment, but she finally opened her mouth and received the juice.

"Thanks, Saruhiko."

Fushimi did not reply. Instead, he squeezed the coffee in her hand and tried to walk back to the dressing room.

Anna called to his back.

"Thanks for today."

Fushimi stopped, looked back and asked.

"What do you mean?"

Anna tilted her neck as she brought the juice to her lips.

"Because we will be together on 'Idol NEO'."

Fushimi opened his mouth. He had no choice but to do so.

Seeing his reaction, Anna asked...

"Didn't you see the script?"

"No I didn't look at it..."

Fushimi remembered his eyes and limbs and held his head.

(Is the director sane? More than that, Anna and I are guest co-stars? If there's Anna who barely talks to me and who has never appeared on a talk show, there's no question there could be an accident during the broadcast.)

But if he's okay, he will, even if it means "job failure."

"It's fine."

Anna suddenly said that when she thought he was spinning around.

Fushimi looked at Anna as if he was surprised.

Anna calmly looked at Fushimi and said...

"We just have to support each other and it will work."

The tone showed an eerie amount of confidence.

Fushimi yelled, wandered around for a while and then asked with uncomfortable feelings.

"Are you used to talk shows?"

"Yes. Sometimes they have called me."

Anna took it easy and surprised Fushimi.

"No... but if you don't talk much..."

"Even if you can't talk much, everyone will tell you it's good."

Fushimi closed his eyes. This is because he remembered what Domyoji and the others said.

"It's playing a kind of 'character'."

The definition of the others. If he doesn’t follow that definition, he won't be accepted. He was there because the president put him in that situation.

Anna, however, shook her head slowly.

"I think it's a little different from that."

"What?"

"I always behave like I'm in the office. It's fine like this, Izumo told me."

Izumo is an idol who can give advice to the members of "Homura", probably Kusanagi Izumo, is the real leader of "Homura Entertainment Office".

Perhaps she remembered that time, a slight smile appeared on Anna's mouth.

"Even if you try to get out of the box, it's a lie. The fans want to see me as I am, that's what Izumo said. So I'm not that nervous."

So Anna said...

"Don't be nervous, Saruhiko. I'm sure everyone wants to see Saruhiko as he is."

Fushimi looked away from Anna. He muttered in an apologetic tone...

"Nonsense, I didn't say I was nervous..."

"Kushina-san!"

The door leading to the station opened and staff appeared from there. Fushimi and his eyes meet and grimace, but he soon notices Anna and breathes in relief.

"I'm glad you were here. I have a meeting for the song, can you go to the studio?"

"Yes."

Anna took control, finished drinking all the juice and looked at Fushimi.

"Saruhiko. See you later."

Anna then returned to the station with the staff.

Fushimi, who was left alone, leaned back against the vending machine and looked up at the sky.

"Just be myself?"

Not what they tell him to do, but what he usually does.

Fushimi doesn't know what he is like. He can't do it because he doesn't have an objective view of himself. Fushimi, who sees idols as pure work, couldn't imagine who would be happy to show his true face.

But at least there was no "lie" there.

Anna's words will echo in Fushimi's head forever.

++++++++++

"Promotion Scepter 4", Office of the President.

Fushimi, who entered the room without knocking, found Munakata relaxing behind the office desk and Awashima, who was restless.

Munakata smiled at Fushimi, and Awashima looked at Fushimi and strengthened her face.

"You are on time. Please sit there."

"Yes."

Fushimi sat on the guest couch with his hands in his pockets. Awashima opened her mouth with a rough face as she crossed her legs, but Munakata got to his feet before that.

"Thank you for your hard work on 'Idol NEO'. I just received a copy of the show, so let's watch it together."

"Hmm.", Snorting, Fushimi said wryly.

"Is that why you decided for me to go in there?"

Munakata did not answer the question. Or maybe she didn't need to answer. He picked up the DVD from the office desk and gave it to Awashima.

"Awashima-kun, here."

Awashima turns around for a moment and then opens her mouth as if she dares to question.

"President, it seems awkward to offer it, but Fushimi is a person. In the future, please don't make an early decision."

Munakata smiled deeply. He said that, hiding his mouth from her with a DVD case.

"I will decide when to make a decision."

"Yes."

Receiving the DVD this time, Awashima walked over to the TV stand. On the way, Fushimi and Awashima looked at each other. Fushimi shrugged slightly, and she responded to him gaze as if she was worried about something.

When the DVD player swallowed the disc, the video started streaming after a while.

A boy is reflected in the background of a simple but elegant outfit. A gentle, promising boy with silver-white hair, however, he has the personality of a grown prince that doesn't look his age.

He presents himself with a smile to the camera. "Hello everyone, good evening. I am the moderator of "Idol NEO" Isana Yashiro."

Munakata sat next to Fushimi and laughed.

"Although he's a decent 'Idol King', he acts as a show host for another entertainment agency. This person really has no restraint."

"Because it's a poor office, it can't be helped."

Fushimi responds to the launch. There are many mysteries about Isana Yashiro, the "Silver Idol King". Despite his position as a representative of a government-approved office, he appears on all shows with the comfort of a lost idol. However, that can be said not only of him but of all the idols belonging to "Shirogane Record".

Awashima, who regained her usual calm, muttered in a calm voice.

"Still, the ability is safe."

As she says, Isana Yashiro performs the show in a familiar tone. He talks well to regular performers, he completes the story when he sees the moment, suddenly throws a story at the audience and makes them laugh.

He should have seen it with his own eyes, but he decided to show the edited video again when it was finished. Isana Yashiro's best ability is striking.

And he has reached that moment.

The moment the conversation was interrupted, Isana Yashiro showed a smile in one direction while pointing one arm at the camera.

"Now, let's call today's special guest."

"Finally."

Munakata, he muttered happily. Fushimi exhaled a bit as he watched Awashima, who was standing, clenched her hands tightly at the edge of his field of vision.

Fushimi doesn't know how his actions are perceived.

What can become.

"Today's guests are Saruhiko Fushimi from idol unit "Shoumutai" and Anna Kushina from "Homura Entertainment Office"."

A crackling voice echoed beyond the chamber. With that in the background, Fushimi with a grumpy face and expressionless Anna appeared on the scene.

Fushimi walked to the center of the set with his back hunched over, his hands in his pockets. Anna followed him. Awashima whispered, "Attitude, attitude!" But even now, she couldn't communicate with Fushimi on television.

The camera projected Fushimi upward. Fushimi looked at him with stagnant eyes. He still had his hand in his pocket.

Awashima muttered as if she was even more impatient.

"What's the turn...?"

Fushimi looked at Awashima. He believed that she was still connected. "Promotion Scepter 4" is a vertical company. He does not believe that Akiyama's actions were directed by Awashima, but he could have predicted that the report was being made.

"Shoumutai, Saruhiko Fushimi. Nice to meet you."

Fushimi said that on camera bluntly. Awashima's expression paled. This is because he was doing what they were told him should never do while practicing speaking in "Shoumutai".

When…

Anna, who came from behind, slapped Fushimi's thighs.

"Tsk."

"Saruhiko. Hostile."

At the moment, the audience seats were boiling.

Awashima opened her eyes. Munakata watches him with a calm expression.

The camera panned and projected the same regular entertainers laughing. Isana Yashiro laughs and rushes in when the laughter has died down.

"Anna-chan, you haven't introduced yourself yet."

"Ok. I'm Anna Kushina. Thank you."

She smiled at the camera and curtsied and for some reason there was applause. Anna looked back at Fushimi, who was silent with a sour expression.

"If you want to try, do it."

"I'm Saruhiko Fushimi from "Dream Corps". Thank you."

When he leaned in the same way, laughter echoed again, mixed with applause. One of the comedians said, "What are you guys, a combination!" And the laughter came even more.

In a reasonable place, Isana Yashiro opened his mouth.

"Yes, thank you both for coming. You two originally knew each other, right?"

He took a little glance until Fushimi realized that he had been asked.

"A colleague from the previous office."

"Saruhiko, he's like this from the front. He's always been like this in the office and in the locker room."

As soon as Anna says that, she giggles a little again. Isana Yashiro laughs too.

"I see. Fushimi-kun, is this your first experience on a talk show?"

"Yes, that's how it is."

"In that case, I think there are many things that you are not used to."

"Okay. If Saruhiko acts weird, I'll hit him."

The laughter is repeated. Fushimi, was silent in front of the camera, but deep down in laughter, he seems shy. It was actually just a bittersweet sensation, but in this world, what you see on camera is the truth.

Awashima, who had been watching the video while she was holding her breath until then, sighed in relief.

"The place has heated up."

"Yes. If this happens, whatever you do will be accepted favorably."

And the show continued exactly as it was.

Most of "Idol NE0" was a talk from Isana Yashiro and regulars. There were many conversations with guests Fushimi and Anna, but each time, Fushimi responded in an unfriendly way. Fushimi's response, which could have made the usual atmosphere worse, with the skillful moderator Isana Yashiro and Anna's rescue, all turned into laughter.

Finally, when the video ended, Munakata smiled and spoke to Fushimi.

"It's wonderful. It's a passing score for the first talk show."

Fushimi clicked his tongue.

Munakata narrowed his eyes at the reaction.

"Oh, you are not happy with this result, right?"

Fushimi looks back at Munakata, saying that he knows. However, only a few in the entertainment world can beat his smile. Finally, Fushimi was in a dissatisfied tone.

"Other than that, I have no complaints. I think I made a loan."

"What do you mean by loan?"

"I just did it as usual. The team members told me to do it as a kind of 'character', but I don't have to bother doing it. Just like me. I'll do it how I know how to do it, that's the right thing to do."

Fushimi clicked his tongue again in frustration.

"It worked, not because it was good, but because Isana Yashiro and Anna changed it."

Awashima looks up and asks.

"It's a loan?"

Before Fushimi, Awashima raised her hand to her forehead with a frightened expression.

"That would be common on talk shows."

"It's exactly like Awashima says. You don't have enough research and experience. I was wondering if you've already woven that much."

Fushimi looked really unpleasant at Munakata's words, including laughter. He then he got up from the couch, looked at Munakata and said...

"Anyway, I've kept my promise. It's fine. Don't accept this offer again."

A word from Munakata stopped Fushimi's legs as he tried to walk.

"I cannot do this."

Munakata stood up with a smile on his face. As he watched, Awashima began to move quickly.

"This is a pass. But, Fushimi-kun, do you think I got an offer like that just to harass you?"

"Yes."

"This is also a disappointment. I don't do that irrational imitation. I got this job because I thought it would be a good experience for you."

There is no such difficult problem in this world as seeing through Reisi Munakata's ideas. Awashima handed a pile of materials to Fushimi, who was standing with a rough face.

Fushimi asked.

"What is this?"

"This is a new program that we have decided to launch with "Promotion Scepter 4". We must do our best to bring this project to success."

"Are you going to this?"

"Yes. I will make you act regularly. The moderator is me; I will make you act as an assistant."

Fushimi opened his eyes.

"Ah."

"I'll do it. That's why I experimented with this 'Idol NEO'."

Fushimi looked at Awashima. Awashima shakes her head with an expression of giving up.

Meanwhile, Munakata smashed Fushimi's escape route one by one.

"The skill of" Idol King "Isana Yashiro is excellent. But do you have a grudge against him throwing you? So, get revenge here. On this show, me, the moderator, and the usual "Shoumutai" of course, but the assistant it is an important factor. "

"……"

The material in question was distorted with a loud noise. Fushimi was about to crush him.

Munakata keeps talking without worrying about such a reaction.

"The broadcast is the show's next reorganization period. For now, study all about being an assistant next week."

As he stared at the material like a needle, a smile still appeared on Fushimi's mouth.

"Is it a life plan?"

Munakata shakes his head gently.

"It is not an order. It is a 'job'."

"Hmm.", Fushimi snorted and hit the material.

"Okay. If it's work, I'll do my best."

"That's good."

"But I'll do it the way I am. It's the same as when I was on that show. This time there will be neither Anna nor Isana Yashiro. I probably won't like it, but if it's okay, I will."

Munakata responded to Fushimi's intrepid words with an even more intrepid smile.

"I'm an 'Idol King'. It's not as easy as shooting with you alone."

"Fu."

"Fufufufu."

Two idols laughed.

Anger and revulsion, self-confidence and ambitious laughter echo in "Promotion Scepter 4". Only one of them, Seri Awashima, closed her eyes and stood still as if she had a headache.

Later, it was the beginning of a variety show called "National Popular Show", Countdown Dissolution, "Shoumutai".