#anyway if we mean that a child is easy/easygoing let's just say so

[isfjmel-phleg]

"

[kirieshhhka003]

Pairing: La Squadra x GN! Reader

Warnings: language

La Squadra harem

Risotto Nero

Risotto, as a leader of the hitman squad, immediately notices the change of atmosphere among La Squadra once Y/n appears. Albino, to his huge dismay, understands that he’s not the only one who’s developed feelings for Y/n. Albino knows every member’s habits and usual behavior, capo is the first one of all hitmen who figures out that everyone is his rival now (but only when it comes to Y/n, he’s still their leader and he respects every member equally)

Risotto is more of a father figure to Y/n. He warms up to you shortly, pampering you with his attention and genuine care, always being there for you. You’re hungry? The two of you are going to the nearest cafe for you to have a proper meal and Capo won’t take “no” as an answer. You’re stressed and something messes with your pretty head? What a poor thing, come here, Risotto is always ready to listen. Others immediately catch on the change of Capo’s treatment, every day it becomes even more obvious that he has a huge soft spot for Y/n

Least favorite rival: Melone. Risotto hates how smooth purple-haired is around you, how he is open with his flirting, how sincere all of his words sound. Nero wishes he had at least half of sans gêne Melone has. He’s a Capo and he has a reputation to uphold, but behind closed doors Risotto has tried flirting with Y/n and it was so so clumsy and awkward, it’s just… not his style

Prosciutto

The second father figure for Y/n, but if Risotto is more of a sugar daddy, indulging you with expensive gifts and foods, Prosciutto mostly acts like a real father would, scolding you for going outside at winter without your hat on (tho he never wears a hat himself) or for petting stray animals on the streets

Even despite all of his parental sternness, Prosciutto is really caring and attentive towards Y/n, even more that Risotto is. You got scratched accidentally because of your clumsiness? We gotta clean the wound up and patch it, don’t even try to protest; it may be a simple graze but what if some dirt got in it? Your shoulders ache after a long tiring day? Come hither, your dear Prosci will rub all the pain away

Least favorite rival: Risotto. Prosciutto doesn’t hate or despise albino, no. Risotto is a capo, and he got this status for several reasons, so blonde man still respects his boss, but both man have pretty familiar tactics of charming Y/n, and that definitely annoys Prosciutto

Formaggio

Formaggio is one of the most oblivious of all La Squadra men, he doesn’t realize that he’s not the only one having interest in Y/n and even when other guys flirt openly with Y/n in front of him red-haired just thinks that his teammates just try to be friendly towards a newcomer

He’s definitely that type of macho from all the cheesy movies - attractive, excellent smooth talker with constant flirtings. Formaggio is not opposed of using all possible cringy lines what annoy everyone in La Squadra, even Risotto has hard times restraining the urge to roll his eyes at all those shitty teasings. But Maggi is an easygoing guy, it’s so easy being around him and even all his pick up lines don’t repel you from him

Least favorite rival: doesn’t have one. As I said, this man doesn’t notice that other guys try to get Y/n to themselves, the thought of having possible rivals doesn’t even cross his mind

Illuso

It’s not a secret to anyone that Illuso is a little nasty bitch with a huge god complex and all his wooing is no better. “You wanna spend time with me? Shit, you’re such a pain in my ass! Okay, I guess I will indulge you this time, but that’s only because of your cute face” - doesn’t sound so appealing, does it? And that’s exactly the way brunette flirts with Y/n (well, at least he tries to)

Illuso wants to make you crawl to him, to make you crave for his presence and his touch, you make you fall in love hard. Brunette wears his best outfits, uses the best of his perfumes make up stuff just to show you that he’s better than all of his teammates. Surprisingly, even his behavior changes slightly when Y/n is around - he’s not that unbearably churlish towards you, on the good days he may even compliment you - “Your hair… looks good today, I like it”

Least favorite rival: he hates all of La Squadra equally. Illuso is certain that he’s the only one who truly deserves Y/n’s attention, he’s the best partner for you and only he can treat you properly. Doesn’t even try to hide his hostility towards teammates - why would you want spending time with such a trash?

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio is a tsundere, do I even need to explain why? Is obvious to everyone in La Squadra that he’s head over heels for Y/n, but he still aggressively denies everything if someone points that out. He’s also very protective of you, if Formaggio or Melone or Sorbet try to flirt with you in front of Ghiaccio - they’ll get their nose bleeding soon (blue-haired gets scolded for that by Risotto often)

Blue-haired tries his best to hold all his outbursts in front of you. Even when you ask the stupidest questions, Ghiaccio would clench his fists til his knuckles turn white, grit his teeth, try doing breathing exercises - everything just to remain calm and not to get tantrum in front of you. And you guess that means really a lot

Least favorite rival: Sorbet and Gelato. Those guys (gays, lmao im sorry) don’t even try to hide their interest in Y/n, pinning for you, prying your attention only to themselves. They flirt so openly with you, some of their lines and allusions make even Melone feel slightly uncomfortable, so Ghiaccio sees those almost as if two husbands were shamelessly molesting Y/n

Melone

Melone knows that at times he may be a little bit… too much, so he turns it down for as much as he can so his “strange” tendencies won’t scare Y/n off. For the first few months purple-haired is nothing but sweet and caring, looking pretty normal, just like an average man that doesn’t think of breeding and all possible kinks every two minutes of his time

Even though, he acts like a gentleman with Y/n. Carrying heavy bags for you, giving you a hand when you get up, and if you’re studying medicine he’s up to help you if you have problems with understanding something. Melone had been studying for almost four years at medical uni but got kicked out for having sex with his cogrouper right in the uni. So he may be pretty helpful if you don’t get something or if you’re just interested in medicine

Least favorite rival: I can’t say that he cares much about other guys from La Squadra, but if he had to pick out one it’d be Illuso. It’s not about the way brunette tries to charm Y/n, purple-haired from every beginning didn’t like this guy. All of his conceit and arrogant behavior - it all just pisses Melone off

Pesci

Pesci is so so timid with Y/n, every time you walk by him, saying hi or just smiling at him, poor boy’s heart twists into tight knots. How are you so sweet? How are you so perfect?

Despite all your friendliness green-haired is still incredibly bashful, he is simply afraid of approaching Y/n. It doesn’t matter how much he likes you, Pesci just can’t force himself to try and initiate a chat. Sometimes Prosciutto helps him out with that a little (even though he doesn’t realize that he helps), but blonde is still careful with his actions, not letting even his precious Pesci get too close to Y/n

Least favorite rival: Formaggio. This guy is so noisy and vigorous, every time Pesci finally pulls himself together and finds the courage to approach Y/n this guy seems to appear from fucking nowhere, hogging your attention all to himself and leaving green-haired an angry blushing mess

Sorbet and Gelato

At the very beginning it feels more like you are Sorbet’s and Gelato’s child and they’re your parents fretting over you. They often take you with them on some trips, Gelato helps you with your school (if it’s something he knows about), Sorbet picks you up from work/school and drives you home etc

Sorbet is more of a tease, playing around with you, shamelessly flirting with Y/n, littering with not so pure compliments and comments. His touches are a little bit too long, his gazes are slightly too intense, even stupidest one would notice brunette’s longing for Y/n. Gelato is way less intense than his husband, blonde is way easier with his words, charming you with his sweet talking and constant doting. He’s more of a pillow that eases the expression Sorbet gives you

Sorbet’s least favorite rival: Risotto. Brunette hates how calm and well-composed Capo is, what if Y/n thinks that albino is cooler than he is? But Sorbet immediately makes a new plan in his head: if Risotto is more of a dad to Y/n, always doting on you and being so kind, Sorbet’s going to become your daddy, making you fall for him and Gelato, make you hungry for their attention

Gelato’s least favorite rival: blonde is pretty acknowledged that everyone in La Squadra tryies to get Y/n to themselves, he sees everyone (except Sorbet ofc) as his rival. Man dislikes everyone, seeing them as his opponents, but he doesn’t have a least favorite one. Yes, other members are hella pain in the ass, but blonde is pretty sure that Y/n will end up in his and Gelato’s arms anyways, so there’s no need to jangle his nerves

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

[greatteachergojou]

The burden of being the strongest

-> on why Gojo won’t be settling down and why he’s such a child

I’ve been seeing ppl commenting on Gojo being a player and all (based on the character infomations from the fanbook) and it prompted me to write a little brief character analysis on Gojo regarding this matter and also kinda trailed off to a topic that I’ve been meaning to talk about because I get the impression that Gojo is often only perceived as the goofy op madlad who is above everyone and everything - which is also true but there’s also more behind those prominent character traits of his.

!!! Beware of SPOILERS if you’re not caught up to the manga!!! (nothing too specific tho)

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

So... Gojo Satoru is a player. Gege Akutami has stated that he wears sunglasses when he meets up with them ladies (I think it was in some Q&A if I remember correctly) and in the fanbook he said he can’t picture Gojo being faithful to any specific woman. - Not too surprising if you look at his surface level behaviour/personality. That said, there’s more to it than him being a player just for the sake of it.

Remember that being a jujutsu sorcerer is a high risk job - except for Gojo... since he’s the strongest even the chances of him getting injured is basically zero. But he has seen too many friends and colleagues hurt/loose their lives. You might just die on any random easy mission if you’re not Gojo. It’s not a coincidence that seemingly most sorcerers are not married or anything like that. This job is shit (Nanamin, you’re absolutely right). Choosing this job basically means giving up a normal orderly life in exchange for a life full of uncertainties and dangers. If you’re the type to care for your family it’s probably best not to start one in the first place to spare them from tragedy. As harsh as it sounds, it’s easier to put your life on the line when you don’t have to worry about your other half waiting for you to return home. I think the only ones that would really care to get married and have kids are those from the big sorcerer families because they need to continue their bloodline. And I feel tempted to assume that they don’t care in particular about how their family members feel...

Now, the Gojo clan is one of the big three. It’d normally mean Satoru has the duty to continue his bloodline. He could leave this to other clan members though (assuming he’s not the only member of the Gojo family left). But since he is the holder of the Six Eyes and Limitless and he’s the head of his family, there’d be no way around him getting a wife at some point and have some babies. But we know he’s not about those traditions and very much disdains the inner workings of the clans. And since he’s the head of his family and the strongest, I guess no one can force him to anything anyways.

Gojo is a massive troll and most folks just find him super annoying and  too aloof. But that’s just the side of him that he chooses to display in  most situations. It’s not like a goofy character doesn’t have a  serious side. It’s not like the strongest character never hurts. Because  of his immense power and his nonchalant behaviour one tend to forget  that in the end of the day he’s still just a human. I don’t mean that  he might be a depressed character deep down though.  Rather, I think he’s an innately optimistic person.  It’s just that he surely has some sadness in him that he hides away. I  think he is just the typ of character who, while he’s  indeed  a joyful person, also conveniently uses this side of his to mask the more heavier  things that are on his mind. And he deliberately chooses not to let  people get too close to him because that will prevent him from getting hurt -  which btw perfectly fits his infinity cursed technique...

He understands that being the  strongest is far from meaning that he can protect everyone. God knows  how many friends he’s already lost and while people around him are dying  left and right, he’ll surely remain the last man standing. That’s really  sad if you think about it. While he himself might be untouchable, you  can get to him through threatening others that he cares about like for  example his students. And that is a potential weak point for someone  who’s supposed to be invincible. The strongest sorcerer being  vulnerable? How outrageous, that can’t be allowed, right? Imagine he’d let himself get attached and have a family to care for. He just can’t protect them all the time and he has many enemies on top of that.

Also, right now his ultimate goal is to fundamentally change this world they live in. It’s a huuuge task to tackle (and probably something only he can do). His mind is occupied by this goal which requires him to train as many future talents as possible. When he says he’s busy he always says it in a joking manner but he really is super busy with his general duties of being the strongest and with his ambitious vision (the fanbook also states that he doesn’t sleep much. my poor manchild. how come he still looks like he’s only 18? that’s not fair. i mean, have you seen nanami and ijichi?) Long story short, he also just doesn’t seem too interested in anything else atm. And honestly, who knows if he’ll survive until the very end of the story...

So on first glance it  seems like being the strongest comes with benefits only. But actually,  it’s lonely up there at the very top. And with great power comes great  responsibility. I think he really started to understand that after the  whole deal with Riko.  It’s when he suffered  a devastating  defeat that he started to  understand what it means to be the strongest and it’s when Getou  fundamentally changed that he started to form a clear vision of what he  wants to do and what he can do with his power.  

We don’t know much of Gojo‘s upbringing yet. But  I think it’s save to assume that born as the absolute strongest already had a lot  of burden placed on him basically from the moment he was born. So since  his earliest childhood he needed to deal with the immensely high  expectations from his family and the sorcerer world in general as well  as dealing with the many folks who’d maybe try to get rid of the kid while he’s still just a child. I don’t think it  makes for a happy childhood. From the top of my head I can recall two panels of child Gojo and in both he looked like a distanced child (kinda had the same vibe as Megumi when he was a child).

The circumstances just place a lot of burden for a child. And I guess when puberty hits all those pent-up emotions made him despise authority and made him a rebellious teen who was all cocky and found that those responsibilities as the strongest sorcerer and the whole deal with protecting the weak was the biggest nuisance ever. - That also explaines why he said he won’t allow anyone to steal the best years of the youth (and why he stopped the elders from taking away the students decision on whether or not they should continue the Goodwill event and then proceeded to opt for a fun baseball game) and why he is usually acting like a child himself. Because he didn’t get to live out his childhood and youth himself he cherishes every opportunity he can get to just be easygoing and carefree.

[guileheroine]

a sky full of song, chapter two

As her friendship with the Princess continues to deepen, a road trip to the Earth Kingdom compels Asami to reflect on her place in the world / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / chapter one

Asami exchanged eager glances with Miki and Khiem. Silaq stood by the door with his arms crossed casually, but they were all invested. As soon as the rickety panel separating them from the magic chamber slid aside and Korra emerged out, Miki caught her arm.

Asami caught the other one. "So what did she say?"

"Hey! That's between me and Mistress Meng." Korra winked, while Asami rolled her eyes. "Your turn, quick. She was meant to close fifteen minutes ago but I gave her a little extra so she'd do everyone. At the behest of the princess and all."

Asami almost expected her to wink again as she pushed her through the door. "We'll get dinner and head for the inn afterwards," she heard her say to the others.

Everyone meant the three waiting after Asami, so Korra must have paid the old woman handsomely indeed, and Asami expected to be rushed through the process. Instead she found herself in a smoky little tearoom, at the pointed end of a gaze glittering with curiosity.

"And who are you when the Princess isn't around?"

Asami coughed, eyes smarting in the smoke. "A blacksmith at the palace. One of her companions."

"I see. Married yet?" Mistress Meng posed the question as discreetly as possible, after her eyes had surreptitiously scanned Asami for any telltale glints of yellow gold.

"No, madam. I only wish." Asami bit the inside of her cheek and humoured the woman. This region of the Earth Kingdom was mighty superstitious, and the lady was smart to make a decades-long vocation of it. If Asami could see straight through it... well, Mistress Meng needn't know she was impervious to her airs.

"Very well." Mistress Meng pulled up her voluminous sleeve. "Drink of this vial and place your palm out for me."

Asami swallowed the sweet concoction she was handed and closed her eyes to protect them, while Mistress Meng put a papery hand under hers. She settled comfortably on the cushions, wondering what her fortune would hold.

Already life had taken a turn for the wondrous. They had been on the road for the better part of a week now, though it felt longer. The wedding of the Earth Prince was in another ten days, and Makapu Village here was one of their nightly stops on the great east road that would bring them to Ba Sing Se. Korra had convinced her to come along with her small hand-picked party, rebuffing the Lotus Guard that King Tonraq had offered. In the end, all Asami had to do was rush the final week of her apprentices' training and visit the palace dressmaker in between to have a couple of fancy gowns made—although Korra whispered in her ear, distractingly enough, that the finery was only for Ba Sing Se and they would wander free the rest of the time. So they had, riding down through the great forests of the north, crossing the choppy sea by ship, and camping in the mountains of the northern Earth Kingdom.

"My wisdom for you, dear," Mistress Meng pronounced dramatically, snapping Asami out of her reverie, "is that seeking true love is like asking for the moon…"

Asami's first faintly irritable thought was, that's not a fortune. The second, later that evening, quieter, would be, tell me something new.

"But," Meng drew the word out in a long croak, closing the other hand over Asami's, "it cannot come down from heaven, if you do not find the courage to ask."

Asami made a mental note, because the others would want to hear something as extravagant as that.

-

Early the next morning, they were dallying on the benches in the yard, mulling over whether to take a detour to the lake as they prepared to depart.

"Too cold to swim," said Miki dismissively, chewing on some berries she had brought out from the breakfast table, "even for me. And that one will freeze to death."

She had been chosen by Korra as part of the entourage for being one of the more intrepid and easygoing members of the staff, and they were good friends besides. She tossed a few nuts to Asami, who pulled her hand out from beneath her shawl just in time to catch them.

"You with the reflexes," Miki whistled, satisfied.

On the bench across from Asami, Silaq, bodyguard to the Princess (that was his official capacity), clasped his broad hands together over the map he had laid out. "Well, Mistress Meng did say I need to take some risks today." He winked at Asami, who scrunched her nose teasingly. He was a large and genial man, and had been kind to her since he was first tasked with helping haul her iron to the smithy from the ships that visited Agna Q'ela from the quarries.

"Wait, didn't she say that to everyone?" Korra piped loudly, directing her attention to the table and away from the innkeeper's son on her hip.

"She said that to everyone," Khiem said simultaneously. He had just finished saddling up their packs, and he stood tickling the reinmule's belly for a moment. Khiem took care of the Princess's dogs at home, and the pack animals on the road.

"Anyway, lake," Korra said with finality, and then softened it with a, "We're not in a rush, are we?"

It was settled. It wasn't that Korra was used to having the last word so much as everyone was generally in accord with her decision. Asami pulled the thick shawl around her, enjoying the crisp air. She had missed this—the kind of morning chill that made you shiver in relish rather than fright.

Korra had turned back to the innkeeper's son, who was being introduced to her mare. The child and the white-coated elk horse regarded one another with mutual caution. Asami sympathised with his wariness. It had taken her a while to warm up to the elk horses, who turned restless with cabin fever aboard the ship soon after Asami had first met them. But since then she had taken to the mount Korra and Khiem brought for her, a sable stallion who liked when Asami rested her face in the scoops of his ostentatious antlers.

"A show-off, like you," Korra said later, as they rode abreast, the lake behind them. "That's why I chose him."

Asami scoffed and laughed, not quite dismissively. She tugged the towel from her hair so that the midday sun could dry it. Asami had taken an inadvisable, yet irresistible, dip in the lake; her scream upon contact with the frigid waters had echoed through the forest bounding them, scattering the birds. Korra and Silaq, the resident waterbenders, had dove in without hesitation. It took a little extra effort to warm the waters as they swam, but polar people did it by instinct. Miki the non-bender had fought the cold valiantly, while Khiem abstained, laughing them off from the bank.

"I'm only moved by the spirit of adventure," Asami said, tossing her wet hair to her back.

The others rode a way ahead of them on the current path, a wide trail shrouded on either side by trees twice as tall as any at the north pole, strewn with their needles. The smell of spring came strong from the woods. Summer crept close on their tails.

"I wonder how they're doing back at the shop," Asami mused.

"You're not worried, are you?" Korra said, and before Asami could answer she corrected herself. "No, you're not. You've been having way too much fun this week."

Asami stared at her with a soundless laugh.

"And to think I had to drag you!"

"You didn't drag me! It's just that I was worried. But I didn't realise how much of a break I needed until we left." Over the week, Asami had provided some minor wheelwrighting services to those they met on the road, but for the most part she was blissfully free of strenuous work. Breathing in the clear air beyond the royal forge, she was sensible to sights and sensations she had largely been shut off from for a year, her escapades with Korra notwithstanding.

"Did you always know you wanted to be a blacksmith? I mean, did you choose such a gruelling trade?" Korra said.

"Oh," Asami said, staggering on the question while she caught up to Korra's thinking. "Um, actually, I'm not sure I ever thought about it—maybe I should have, huh? It's just what I was always supposed to do, growing up with my father."

"I know what that's like…" Korra sucked air through her teeth. Then she cocked her head. "For what it's worth, I'm sure there's a lot you'd be great at, if you ever wanted to switch things up."

Asami gave her a humble little mock curtsey, as far as possible on horseback. "And you? Have you wondered who you might be if you weren't the Princess of the North?" That was the title that always went before their company in these parts.

"Ah, not really." Korra sounded recalcitrant, like she didn't want to entertain the trail of thought for fear it might leave her wistful.

It wasn't a mood Asami wanted to encourage. "Well, then let me. First of all, it's quite easy to imagine the improvement on your personality we'd have if you weren't highborn—"

Korra wasn't hard to rile. "You're awful!"

Distraction achieved, Asami backed down. "And luckily, you really aren't," she countered without a beat, smiling her deference. She felt her own eyes soften when Korra returned the smile, disarmed and placated. Then Asami was humbled in sincerity, at the instant enhancement she had made on Korra's mood.

"You'd make a good princess," Korra said. "Better than me."

"No," Asami returned, "that's not true."

Though she meant it, she sounded less convincing to her own ears this time, because she was willing the bittersweetness out of her voice. "Your people love you," she added. "They don't see the slow parts. They see a warrior, passionate and big-hearted. And I know their trust means the world to you, even if you get impatient sometimes."

Some of the levity had dissipated, the air with all its scents was heavy now, and Asami wondered if she had overstepped. "Me," she continued, "I can't talk to someone on the street like I've known them my whole life."

After a long second, Korra said, "You could do the three hour round tables." It wasn't a counter to Asami's statement but a submission; and in responding so, Korra was gently accepting her kindnesses as well.

Asami concurred with a sigh. They would make a good team, then. They did .

The path was widening out now, but so were the trees, prickly branches curving into their way. A pleasant breeze rustled in them, softening the hard sunlight into an ideal haze. They both closed their eyes against it for a while.

"Well," Korra said, snapping off some needles from the branches pushing against her, "enjoy this while it lasts, because we'll probably have to sneak out at night if we want any freedom in Ba Sing Se."

"Uh-huh." Asami eyed her, brow arched. "Could it be that that's why we're taking the long route?"

Korra's eyes crinkled. "It's not a secret, Asami."

"Shh."

Korra threw her clump of twigs and needles at her, and they both laughed.

"You're kind of dreading it, aren't you?" Asami said. "Why… You'll be a great envoy for the tribes regardless of whatever the Earth elite think of us. And the King can't be too concerned if he let the council delegate to you... I mean, how hard can it be to attend a wedding?"

"You know, my mother's hoping it's going to provoke something in me."

"The mission?" Asami shielded her eyes as she gazed ahead to see where the others were. Accustomed to trips with Korra alone, she had forgotten to keep them in account.

"The wedding."

Asami turned back to Korra. "Is that right?" She pouted sympathetically. "She says that all the time. She's hoping everyone you meet with will magically infuse you with dreams of courtship."

"Well, this time, it's my dad, too."

"Oh… "

Korra gave her an exasperated look; Asami laughed, shaking her head.

"I mean, it's a funny thing to tell you when you're literally about to run away."

"That's what I thought! But I guess at least it means he thinks my sense of diplomatic responsibility has improved."

Asami got the impression that it wasn't that much of a bright side to Korra, and it coloured the air strangely again, but then she was startled into distraction. A butterfly had alighted on her nose, appearing from nowhere. It had been a long time indeed since she had seen one. Korra turned sharply at her gasp of delight. Gently, Asami coaxed it to crawl onto her hand, which she held out to Korra.

"These were my favourite! I used to plant flowers just to attract them."

"I see. So was that hard for you? Not being attractive enough for them all on your own?"

It took Asami a moment to understand her meaning, and then she sniggered. The butterfly wove around Korra and her stallion before flying off, and once they had watched it go, she said, "Hey, why are you in such a mood today?" She waited for Korra to return her pointed glance. "Tired of me already?"

Korra shook her head, sweeping her hand through the stallion's fur. "What? I adore you."

They did not look at each other then. Asami's knuckles tightened on the reins while the thrill of the words rose and abated. It was just a second in their familiar repartee, a long and blistering second. Korra fiddled with the bridle on her mount.

"Alright, well, since you're feeling so belligerent, why don't you race me?" Asami shifted on her mount. "We should catch up to the others."

It was for the best, because the farther they traveled from the Water Kingdoms, the keener the sense of possibility became, and the softer and more yielding the boundaries Asami knew, which meant all the more that she couldn't risk prodding them. And since the excitement she felt was for the fresh and familiar landscapes, not just from them, Asami directed her mind to that. Korra's spirits had been high and easy, too, from the advent of their journey—until today, it seemed. It occurred to Asami that Korra had never actually mentioned what Mistress Meng had divined for her.

-

In the town of Tenduk, it had been arranged for Princess Korra to open a new museum. Asami knew that cutting ribbons wasn't one of Korra's favourite activities, as it usually preceded a lot of sitting through—or worse, making—formal speeches. But the palace had arranged it upon request by the town, after the mayor learnt that they would likely be passing through that part of the kingdom when the museum was scheduled to open.

The night before, they arrived at the town's finest guesthouse. It was jam-packed, owing to the impending ceremony, but they offered Korra the final single room. Miki, however, was nursing the final strains of a back injury from a snowshoeing accident in the winter, and Korra insisted she take it with its softer bed. It left her to accompany Asami in the shared room. When they sat on the plentiful cushions over a nightcap of strong tea, they agreed it recalled Korra's apartments at home. Except the night outside was darker than it ever got with snow and ice around, and beyond was a foreign land that held them to no account, far from any castle, the room they lodged in belonging to neither of them. That made it different in a way they couldn't quite discuss aloud.

Once Korra was ready for bed, Asami shut the window, where she had been listening to the cicadas chirp in the moonless night. Korra turned out the smelly lamp. It was cool inside now, and the dark almost too eerie to sleep in. From the other side of the bed, she heard Korra sigh.

"Excited for tomorrow?"

"Sure. Asami?"

She was about to say princess, into the dark and thrumming night, but the circumstances might have carried it to an unfamiliar place, so she bit her tongue. "Hm?"

"Would you stay here, if you could?"

Here? Asami thought, before it dawned.

There was a beat before Korra spoke again. "In the Earth Kingdom. You miss it, don't you?"

"It's been a long time since I lived here. It was a long time before the war, even."

But it was a notion Asami hadn't realised she was nurturing, until Korra put it to words. It was true that the north was not the only place she could have made her post-war life—she'd simply taken the first chance that befell her to escape her father's legacy. In any case, the future certainly held other options, if the future looked the way she thought it might.

Korra didn't push, though Asami waited to see if she would ask again. Instead all there was was the dim whir of the cicadas, and the space on the bed between them.

"Maybe one day," Asami said finally. "Who can say?"

"Of course," Korra replied softly. The way she said it made Asami wonder, and suppress the immediate urge she had to reach out for her.

Korra cleared her throat. "Are you sleepy? I'm not."

"No." Asami sprang on the word, overhasty.

"Let's walk in the garden." Korra was out of bed no sooner than Asami had heard her words. "It looked so nice, and we probably won't have time tomorrow."

After a breakfast that included the fried cicadas Korra had begun to inquire about not five minutes into their stroll, they were led to the museum. Streamers hung from the building with the banners of all four kingdoms on them—it was the first public collection to open that brought cultural displays from across the world, a gesture of harmony after the war. After Korra cut the ribbon on the flagstones in front of a politely buzzing crowd, Asami and the others hung behind while she led the first patrons that had queued up inside. The impromptu tour that ensued, they later heard, had not been a part of the plan, but it proved a hit with the audience, who hadn't expected to hear the Northern Princess regale them firsthand.

"It must have been nice to put your royal history education to use for the first time ever," Miki commented, while they sat together picnicking afterwards. Korra spluttered her agreement, laying back on the mats they had loaned from the guesthouse.

"I just did the Water wing," she said, "so, um, the other hundred books could have been more useful."

"You can put some more of it to the test for the Earth Queen," Khiem said dourly, "impress her a little."

Korra struggled up and reached to steal some flatbread from his plate. "You want to feed me to the wolves!"

Asami giggled and followed suit, tearing some bread. Korra had done well, made the event her own. She was skilful now at knowing when to put her touch on things, how the line should be toed; a sense that served a figure such as herself well. Her mood, in turn, was vibrant today. Asami took the effort to gaze up at the sunset, away from Korra reclining in its glow.

Silaq was cutting persimmons from the trees around them, with permission from the warden that had scouted this spot outside the town for them. Some of the surrounding trees were blooming, while others were fat with fruit.

"Shake them!" Asami called. "You just have to shake them, and they'll fall."

Some of the fruit hit their heads on the way down. Asami took one of the blossoms in her lap and put it in Korra's hair as a token of congratulation, and Korra caught her hand for a moment as it left, beaming. As Korra stood to join Silaq in gathering the fruit, Asami thought that perhaps their moods had switched today. Korra's words last night had imparted an itch in the back of her mind. She bit into a persimmon and the silky cinnamon taste only intensified the nostalgic pang.

She turned to Khiem, who was a rare earthbender who had been born at the North Pole. "Khiem, how did you end up in Agna Q'ela? Did I ever ask?" She offered him the fruit.

"Same as you, I suppose," he laughed.

What did that mean? At Asami's creasing brow, he took a bite from the persimmon and continued.

"My father moved there from Yousheng prefecture to breed elk horses. The wild elk horses in the north… They're not suitable as mounts. When the King wanted elk horses for riding, my father was hired to take animals from the continent to breed with them so they could be domesticated, and to teach the royal stables how to keep them."

"Wow," Asami said. "I see—"

"Like your foundry."

"Yes, I got it," she laughed. "So he never came back?"

Khiem shook his head. "He fell in love with a northern girl." He handed the persimmon back; it was Asami's turn. "Are you planning to return? I hear your apprentices are shaping up."

"I haven't thought about it," Asami admitted. "But I think that thought will be due soon."

"Well, it's not an easy place to settle unless you grew up there. I doubt you have everything you want in the Water Kingdoms…"

No, indeed.

It was midday when they arrived in Ba Sing Se, sweaty and hungry. At the east gates of the Lower Ring, they were met by a representative of the Earth Queen, and another from the Water consulate here in the city, who took them up into the palace and housed them like all the other guests that had been filtering in from all four kingdoms. The wedding was tomorrow, and tonight they would soiree with the other guests, but they took their lunch with the Water consul in the Upper Ring.

The consul received them eagerly, and served them fresh seasonal fare, introducing the latest goings-on in the city.

"All the festivities down there are beautiful," Korra enthused. The party was already in full swing in Ba Sing Se; they only had one prince, after all.

"Wait until you see the fire show tonight," the consul said. "There's more than just gold in the Earth Queen's coffers. Gunpowder! They have the finest technicians working on it. That will be something to behold for us northerners."

Korra's face lit up at the mention of fireworks. Asami was ready to return her grin when she sought her gaze, as she passed her the bowl of sauteed greens. She smiled behind her cup as Korra told the consul all about her pyrotechnics.

"Your Highness," he said, when they sat in the veranda office and rested afterwards, "there is the matter of the wedding gift, and venue, and the list of attendees for the ball tonight with the Queen and the Prince… There are a number you should definitely meet with, the others I will leave to your discretion. The wedding itself will be at the Summer Palace in the morning... doubtless the Earth royals will be preoccupied, so make your acquaintances tonight and then enjoy the day, I say..."

While the consul engaged Korra on these matters, Asami turned to Silaq. "Will we all go tonight?"

"Yes, I think so. It's a party, not a meeting. Remember your titles, though."

"Titles? How will I know—"

He patted her shoulder. "For Korra, I mean. In the palace, in company, it will be your highness —or my lady, or miss if you're feeling brave… And we'll be her household, since we're all in the employ of the palace."

"That's kind of fun," Asami said, and they shared a quiet laugh.

Their rooms at the Royal Palace were lavish. Asami and Miki hurried through the halls once they were clear of any staff, admiring the thick tapestries and the ornaments of silver, jade, and cinnabar. Each object and surface seemed to heave with ancient grandeur. They slipped into their second finest dresses, the Water folk in shades of stunning and patriotic blue. Asami kept her hair down. She had been taking every chance to, since it was an impossibility when she was at work. The gathering commenced in a series of massive drawing rooms, the largest boasting a high, golden vault carved with star maps and scenes from legend. Asami could have spent all evening gazing up. While Korra met with various nobles, she and the others clung close to one another, drinking careful amounts and milling with the looser guests. After a while, they fell into a game of hunting the aristocrats, pointing and guessing discreetly from the seating map who each of the fanciest guests were. When it was time, however, they all had to be introduced to the man whose wedding they had come for.

"Princess Korra! You , my lady, look ravishing ."

Korra and Prince Wu bowed to one other; a shallower and stiffer movement than the one Asami was used to seeing in Agna Q'ela. He had removed the tasselled crown he first entered in, leaving his mantle of green silks to shine, which he wore over a matching tunic lined with gold brocade. If not for the top-notch tailoring, they would have swallowed him.

Korra held her hand out for him to kiss, and then when she kissed his cheek as customary, a look of daze befell the Prince that made Miki clinch Asami's arm and snort. In fact, Prince Wu kissed the hands of all the ladies once Korra had named them to step forward and bow—decorum be damned—and he even offered Silaq a rather shy pat on his solid arm. Korra's eyes were narrowed, lips pressed tight, caught between irritation and laughter. Korra didn't like the Earth Prince. Asami didn't think she would either, but he was certainly a character.

The prince's betrothed, on the other hand, while he did not turn heads, left a more curious impression. He was modestly but finely dressed—the seemingly plain cut shirt clearly made from the finest weave upon a second glance—but he spoke little and did not seem to capture any of the guests for long. Naturally, he was the first topic of conversation when they sat for a bite. Korra's party shared their table with a couple chatty ladies, daughters from some southern freehold, who seemed to know all there was to know.

"That man is a commoner," one of them hiccupped over her sweetmeats. "Nothing but a beautiful, common commoner."

Korra's head rose instantly and she set her chopsticks down halfway to her mouth. "Oh, really?"

"Rumour has it," her sister to her left leaned in with a conspiratorial tone, "he was born in the slums in the Lower Ring and abandoned by his hussy mother. He would have died if one of the maidservants here didn't rescue him and raise him as her own."

The final southern woman, clearly the elder, cast them both reproving looks, as if she was disappointed that they would relay this gossip before the Princess of the North..

"One of the staff I was chatting to in our foyer said he used to be the Prince's bodyguard," Miki said. "Far to go, huh?"

"Or close, I guess," Khiem said, next to Asami, elbowing Silaq suggestively. Korra scoffed at him.

"I wonder what the Earth Queen thought of that," she said.

The older woman answered cautiously. "I'd wager the Prince just pitched a fit until she relented. Love him or hate him, not having his way is a foreign concept to His Highness."

The youngest girl was bored of this now. She turned to Asami, who had noticed her hawkish gaze on her once or twice. "Are you from the Fire Empire, Miss? You have a look."

"I am," Asami said. "Though I was born here in the Earth Kingdom. But I'm a blacksmith in the north now."

"A blacksmith." The girl repeated. She looked ahead, and her chin turned up a fraction as she sipped. "My sifu defeated the master arrowsmith for the Yuyan Archers during the war, and he says Fire Empire smiths are deadly warmongers."

Asami's heart sank in a flare of regret. From the corner of each eye, she saw the girl's sister shooting her a warning glance, and Korra clenching her jaw. Korra, of course, was not above invoking her station to put an enemy in their place.

"It's alright," Asami said quickly. "He's correct, unfortunately. But I haven't been with them a long time. I'm making amends."

Korra grazed her arm under the table. She already felt guarded here and she knew that Asami felt doubly conspicuous in these grand halls. At least the young lady had the good sense to look contrite.

"You look like... a goddess of the forge," Korra said, her cheek in her palm, leaning back to assess the gown.

Asami snorted, her sharp stance before the mirror failing. They had risen early and were mostly ready by the time the sun was fully up. It would take a half hour by rickshaw to reach the Summer Palace, and they would need to get there long before the prince in his palanquin.

"Nooo, don't go all red. See, it's gone now."

"Well, it's warm in the forge," she retorted. "Are the others ready?"

"Almost. Khiem's shining his shoes." Korra rose up onto her elbow reluctantly, yawning. She turned to the little box of jewelry she had brought, which lay open on the bed. "Hey, come here. Do you want to wear some of this?" She held up an elaborate necklace of pearl and pink ruby. I think this matches you better… And you know, they like seeing this stuff, at least the Earth Queen does."

"Right, the heavier the gold, the more highly she'll think of you," Asami said, bungling a mantra someone at the party last night had mentioned. She smoothed her dress one last time, glancing at Korra. Korra was arrayed in deep and regal teals, stretching the dress code a little only as a comely and commanding young princess could. The code for the wedding was simple: green, the colour of the Earth Kingdom, the colour of spring. Asami's own jade gown was embellished with pink spring blossoms. It was oddly exhilarating for them to be in summer garb, and Asami, for her part, couldn't recall the last time her arms had seen the sun.

She knelt on the bed and examined the jewels in Korra's hand. Asami's own gold had been paid in reparations, along with most of the other assets her family had held, after the war. All she kept were a few pieces that had belonged to her mother. Asami cleared her throat.

"Is it alright for me to wear this?"

Korra nodded mildly no sooner than she'd asked. "Of course. It's mine. Turn around."

She climbed to her knees behind Asami and unclasped the necklace, pausing first to sweep her hair from her shoulder. Asami's skin pebbled before the cold metal touched it, and she made her exhale soft. Though she said nothing, Korra must have noticed because she placed a hand over Asami's shoulder while the other straightened the chain at the back of her neck.

"You wear it really well." Korra placed her other hand on her too now, almost down at her own hand. "You look beautiful."

Asami didn't dare look up into the mirror; instead she felt the cove of Korra's shoulders, tucked around her own, close. When she had rescued her voice, she managed, "Thank you." She knew what she had to say next— which one are you going to wear? —but it was impossible not to defer it another second, two seconds—

There was a pointed cough at the doorway. Korra's hands dropped; Asami turned and sat on the bed, retracting to one corner.

It was one of the palace staff; wearing the doormen's colours, albeit in what looked like a special silk for the occasion. She gazed in the middle distance and rattled off, flustered. "Your Highness and our esteemed guests are expected in the reception rooms in twenty minutes for departure." Before they knew it, she had bowed vaguely and scampered.

Miki materialised where had been. "Oh, good. We're almost done, no?"

"Yes," Korra said, searching for Asami's eye, and Asami nodded blankly.

"I'll—go put on my shoes then."

Korra put on a necklace and a glimmering silver coronet. Asami picked up the shawl that matched her dress. They were finished in minutes, ready to head for the foyer. Asami shut the door of her suite firmly behind her as they left.

[memoriashell]

first impressions ( are they pointless if fate has already decided? )

Characters /  Pairing: Fukawa Touko/Naegi Komaru, ( implied ) Syo / Komaru

crossposted on ao3

Notes: day 7 of @tokomaruweek​!! soulmate prompt.

sorry if i manage to absolutely fuck up posting this one i'm half awake rn.

i appreciate how unrealistic and improbably soulmate aus are. anyways i knew i wanted to play with this idea as soon as i saw the prompt. i think that bodyswap au has interesting potential. the bodyswap soulmate au in the specific sense that you’d theoretically get to see the kind of hardships your fated might be going through but that’s not really the angle i took on it here but i mean do any of us want komaru to face abuse and bullying? no. i cannot comit to that. someone else can do that i am going to live here angst free anyways in case it isn't obvious the basis premises around this is that once you come of age, you swap bodies with your soulmate. HONESTLY not sure how a body swap au would work w/ a did person but considering that every alter / identity is considered their own person, i figured that it would simply just swap w/ the host, meaning any alters would be left behind. i do think it'd be an interesting concept to play with, maybe?

tw for trauma / abuse ( /ive parents )

Summary:  most circumstances to figure out the identity of your soulmate are pretty unfortunate, but she thinks this one might take the proverbial cake in some regard.

For most people, this would be the kind of momentous occasion that people would count down to. For Touko, it catches her completely off guard because she hardly registers the fact that her birthday is coming up until the day it happens.

‘It’ being the day she comes of age and is supposed to find out who her soulmate is.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t think about this kind of stuff on occasion. It was kind of a given, with her entire shtick of being a romance author. But quite frankly, she tries to forget it, because really? Soulmates? For someone like her? Not likely.

Who would want to be stuck with someone like her? Best not to get her hopes up too much, and stick to unrequited crushes on people she knows she’s probably not destined for.

The sound of an unfamiliar alarm is what wakes her up— Touko doesn’t really process anything more than trying to turn it off and laying down for a few minutes. And then realizes her body doesn’t quite feel right. Empty. Something’s missing and it’s too quiet and it all feels horribly wrong. And then opening her eyes and realizing she can see perfectly fine without her glasses.

Oh. Oh no. No no no no no.

She hops out of bed and spots a phone ( thank christ ) and confirms her fears. Right. It’s her birthday. Thank god she doesn’t need to know a passcode to figure out that information. Well, nothing she can do about that. Time to sleep off today, so she can go back to living her life normally, soulmate-free.

Or well, that is what she plans to do, until a picture frame catches her attention from the corner of her eye, and— oh. Oh no? Oh no. She absolutely recognizes one of the two people in the picture. She presumes the girl is the one whose body she’s currently inhabits ( nothing particularly special to note there, plain as plain can be ). The boy— she loathes that nonchalant, easygoing expression— the boy she recognizes as her classmate. One Makoto Naegi.

God, it’d be just her luck, huh. Speaking of which—

“Komaru!” Ah, so that’s her name. She hears a shout from downstairs, followed by footsteps. “You’re going to be late!”

Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

In a panic, she sprints to dive back under the covers and pretends to be asleep still. Maybe she’ll get off without much of a punishment that way? Definitely less than the realization that she’d been awake and not getting ready for...school, presumably. She has no clue what this girl is usually like, but hopes that it isn’t painfully obvious what is going on here.

“Komaru?” The voice is closer this time, the sound of the door opening follows close behind. While she panics over the thought of what to do asides from pretending like she’s asleep, Touko misses the sound of footsteps approaching and flinches when the covers are tugged away from her head. She doesn’t mean to let out a whimper of fear when a hand comes down on her forehead, teeth clenched, not that the sound is interpreted as fear. “Are you feeling all right, dear? You’re not feverish, but you are a little sweaty...”

It takes her a moment to recognize the tone of this woman’s voice is one of concern, an incredibly foreign concept for her to expect from any parent ( she’s presuming this is the mother ). It certainly was never one she’d expected to hear from her own mothers, squeezing her eyes shut as if to ignore the truth. “N-No...” It’s not a lie, at least— all of this makes her feel sick to her stomach.

( It leaves an awful taste in her mouth, knowing the love that she is being shown here is just an illusion; not meant for her at all. And yet Touko wants something that she has never had. What an awful child she is )

“Why don’t you take it easy for today, then? If you feel no better later, you can start taking medicine.” She manages to utter a thank you, whatever will get her with no repercussions and left alone again, and there is a hand gently stroking back her hair before she is alone again.

Once ‘her’ mother leaves, she locks the door and buries herself under the blankets, so she can sleep and forget about today ever happening.

In comparison, Komaru Naegi finds herself having a much less than pleasant awakening. In that she doesn’t know what wakes her up, just that she is suddenly, forcibly awakened and in a room she doesn’t recognize.

Weird. Is she dreaming? It kind of feels that way, because she has no control over the body she currently resides in, marching over to the desk and reaches into the draw for...a pair of scissors? Really, really sharp scissors, but a pair of scissors nonetheless.

It’s not a dream. Get out. They hiss at her, scissors pointed at her— themselves? Oh boy. Uh.

“I don’t think I can do that.” She says aloud; wincing. “I don’t— I don’t know what’s going on...?”

Ugh. You think I know any better? ( Yes! Yes she does!! ) It’s totally bullshit that this is my wake-up call after ages, and she’s not even awake and instead I’m stuck with you? Ah. Shit, hold on a second how long has it been. They reach for the calendar, and she feels her face frown. Aw, it hasn’t been that long? She really forgot her own birthday coming up? Some heads up would’ve been nice instead of just waking up to this fucking mess. The voice continues to complain.

“Um...” She hates to interrupt, but she’s still pretty confused. “What do you mean? Who are you?”

You’re expecting me to just give that up without knowing your own name? Or do you not care?

“Sorry!” And she is, given that she’d kind of gotten ahead of herself. “Komaru. Komaru Naegi. But just Komaru is fine!”

Ah— Naegi? What are the odds— Dekomaru it is!

“What? That’s not my name at all!” Komaru completely manages to miss the faint recognition, huffing a pout. “And I told you, so answer my questions!”

Syo. And what I mean is that now I’m stuck explaining this shit— did you seriously not pay attention to any of that or are you that dumb? Geeze, listen to me this time. Okay, so we can have a lesson on proper terms and all that shit another time, long and short of it is that we share this body— miss gloomy and I. It’s technically her coming of age birthday today, which is why you’re here instead of her.

“Oh, okay.” Komaru nods along in agreeably, before her mind catches up and process the implications of what she’s been told. “Wait, you mean I— she— this is my soulmate?!” Her voice cracks as it pitches, hands quick to clasp out of her mouth, a little worriedly.

Yeah, obviously. And don’t worry, the rooms are soundproof. Otherwise, I would’ve already told you to stop replying out loud. People would think that’s weird. They sound amused, reaching back towards the table and fumbles around for a moment before raising something up into the field of their view.

This is a student ID card, which provides her with several helpful bits of information— none of which Komaru chooses to fixate on. “...Hope’s Peak?” What were the chances of that?

Focus, idiot. Do you have any idea of what this means?

Komaru beams, an expression that might have been frightening for anyone else to see on this face. “It means I can be a Hope’s Peak student for today!”

No. Ouch, that’s probably the most cold they’ve sounded so far. Which is saying a lot, considering how they’d greeted her. Well, maybe. I know she really wouldn’t like it if you went around in our body. She doesn’t like it when I force control over our body either, but if it’s you then she probably won’t care. Personally, I don’t give two fucks— I can give you tips on acting more like her if you want.

Komaru makes a face. “I’m bad at acting. Am I really that different?”

Given that you don’t shut up, yes. That’s not a bad thing. They add on when they seem to sense the indignation rising in her. You really want to go around like normal today?

“Please?” She begs in what is sure to not be the last time that Syo enables her in doing something she probably shouldn’t do.

Okay! You’re more fun to have to share with than madam morose. This is way more chaotic. If things go wrong, I’ll help you cover up.

Komaru thinks that’s supposed to be a compliment. Or flattery? Either way, she enthusiastically takes to observing her appearance in the mirror for a good several minutes— more than several, but who’s keeping track? Syo. Syo is— before they point out they’ll be late for class and still haven’t had breakfast. But Komaru really only registers late and class and grabs her bag and rushes out into the hall, only to realize she didn’t really know where she was supposed to be going.

Syo sighs at her and directs her in the right direction of their locker and then their class while Komaru considers what’s the best way to seem cool if she can’t technically be herself. And also try not to nervously overthink things. That is also a thing she tries to avoid.

You know it’s weird that we’re going to class early, right?

“It’s fine...!” She grumbles. I can’t help but be excited, okay? It’s not everyday I get to pretend to be attended one of the most prestigious schools in the country.

Uh huh. Okay. I don’t think it’s really ‘cool’ to be this early to class, but.. Syo snickers at her, and she pouts before opting to ignore them, gathering her nerves before ( with more confidence than the actual Touko Fukawa would ever muster ) pushing the door open and stepping inside the classroom.

And then the whole act cool plan falls apart because while Komaru had registered the, we’re at Hope’s Peak Academy, she had failed to consider the whole, this is the school my brother goes to, I might run into my brother dilemma that she is immediately forced to acknowledge in a very graceful manner.

( And by gracefully she means she very embarrassingly screams at Makoto and Syo cackles at her, and she learns a very important lesson on why she should not trust Syo so easily )

Unfortunately for Touko, her body refuses to sleep much, which means she is wide awake when someone tries to come into the room just after four. Clearly not giving up, a knock soon follows, and, “Fukawa-san? Can you let us in?”

And then the sound of her own voice, way too cheery for her own liking. “No one else is home right now, so you don’t need to worry about it. Please? I really want to meet you! Uhm, properly.” Silence follows, since Touko makes no attempt to acknowledge that- if she pretends to sleep, then they’ve got to give up eventually. Even if she can only run away for so long, given that Makoto will probably just confront her tomorrow if she doesn’t. “Uh, Syo-san says they’ll take matters into their own hands if you don’t...? I’m not really sure what that means, but...” Makoto makes a panicked noise and god damn it Syo. She hadn’t counted on Syo working against her as well. Should she have expected that from them? Eh.

( It might speak more about the other girl, if she’d managed to get something like Syo’s...approval? That doesn’t seem quite right, and feels weird to think about either way )

“Give me a moment.” She calls, just to make sure Syo doesn’t go ahead and try and start picking the lock or break a window or something else that’s drastic and unnecessary. Takes a deep breath as she pulls herself out of bed, doesn’t bother double-checking if she seems too presentable and trudges over to unlock the door.

No sooner than she does so, the door swings open cautiously— Touko manages to sidestep out of the way before she needs to worry about being hit by it. She can feel the other’s gaze focus in on her almost immediately, but she very pointedly decides to not meet her gaze, mostly because it feels weird to be looking at herself, and looks at the same bookcase she has been staring at for the past four hours straight.

( Manga. She hates it. Of course, she would be stuck with someone that loves something that she practically loathes. She also hates the fact that she’d also been so bored that she’d almost considered reading it )

The only thing she chooses to acknowledge is the fact that her hair is down and not braided, really could she not have put forth even that much effort— and that while having her in front of her now is much different from what she might have thought it to be, she really has no idea of what to think of her.

And then the other seems to decide that enough is enough and holds her hands in hers very excitedly. She can only guess what Syo makes of all this. Schadenfreude, probably. She doesn’t actually say anything to her, just giggles to herself ( she’s not sure if she’s trying to be creepy, or if that laughter is directed at something Syo is saying ).

“Stop that...It’s w-w-weird to see my face doing that.” She gnaws on her lip— is this what everyone else saw all day? That’s awful.

As if reading her mind ( and certainly not the atmosphere of room ), Makoto helpfully chimes in, “Give her a break, she’s done a pretty good job trying to not attract any unwanted attention.”

“They made me skip class.” She pouts, crossing her arms. “Syo even said that they’d take the blame for it, but no, I had to skip out.”

“You screamed at me and scared Fujisaki-san? I was more relieved that Ishimaru-kun was willing to get you excused for the day.” Oh good, at least she can count on having reliable notes and not misplaced homework like with some people ( Syo ).

“It wasn’t that bad, Makoto, you’re making it seem worse than it was—”

“Because screaming like that could come off as good somehow?” He butts in.

“— and what’s done is done, so with that said, let’s eat!” She raises a bag that she’d failed t notice earlier. “I know it’s a little weird, but it’s still your birthday, so we can at least celebrate, right? I even asked Syo what you’d prefer the most while we were at the bakery.” That kind of disgustingly desperate face is all too fitting and completely foreign on her face, and Touko scowls at her.

It’s also a very foreign thought to actually be celebrating her birthday for once, and with a practical stranger nonetheless.

“Actually, I have a call I’m supposed to make. So I’ll be waiting downstairs, Komaru— we do have to get back at a reasonable time, so I’ll come back up if you’re staying too long, okay?” Makoto flees in the most inelegant way possible, fittingly.

Traitor, she wants to yell at him. She’s not quite being left alone here, because Syo is clearly present, but it’s not the same. She still feels a sense of betrayal here on all sides nonetheless.

“Touko-chan! Come sit with me!” Not that she gets any say in this, dragged along by her hand into following. She considers telling her off because when did she say that she was allowed to call her that? But bites her tongue for the moment because she’s still a little startled about the ease at which she has accepted all of...this, given the fact that she’s currently got Syo co-fronting. She suspects that they have arbitrarily elected to not acknowledge the elephant in the room which is very annoying to her, but she’s not really given a chance to acknowledge that either since a plate is shoved into her hands.

Fruit tart. So she’s not lying about the fact that Syo has taken a liking to her, apparently.

( No she’s not jealous over her own apparent soulmate. Why on earth would she envy that? )

“Fukawa-san?” Pale lavender eyes peer up at her, lips pursed in a small pout. “I know this isn’t the most ideal situation, and..I don’t expect you to warm up to me right away. But I’d like it if we could meet again sometime, as ourselves.”

Touko gives her a long look, scrutinizing, and then looks away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay!” She’s quick to agree like she’d said yes; humming happily with a fork in her mouth ( which would be cuter if she didn't have to look at her own ugly face ).

[acidmatze]

A Fractured Sense Of Self

About one year ago I made a post about Hawks possibly having Dependend Personality Disorder since I saw so many things in him that I saw in myself.

After several talks with my therapist however it became more and more apparent that I had been close but didn't really hit the target.

I'm not here to push a diagnosis on Hawks. He's just fictional after all and I am just someone overanalysing things and not a professional of any kind.

I'm probably gonna lay out the “symptoms” or rather.... Behaviours of Borderline Personality Disorder, see if they fit Hawks and how and then try to somehow make sense of his state of mind and how it ties in with how he acts.

Trying to make sense of whatever the hell is happening in the recent chapters.

So when my therapist said “I looked some things up and I would say his behaviour fits BPD the best.” my brain immediately went to “No that can't be. Isn't that a thing teenagers have?”

Even though I Should Know Better. Damn you, media.

Ableism is so ingrained in society even people with mental illnesses themselves aren't safe.

But anyway, this isn't an essay about me doing parkour to avoid feelings and problems this is more about HAWKS doing the same.

Part 1  So what is BPD anyway?

BPD is characterized by the following signs and symptoms:

Markedly disturbed sense of identity

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment, and extreme reactions to such.

Splitting ("black-and-white" thinking)

Impulsive or reckless behaviors (e.g., impulsive or uncontrollable spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating)

Intense or uncontrollable emotional reactions that often seem disproportionate to the event or situation

Unstable and chaotic interpersonal relationships

Self-damaging behavior

Distorted self-image

Dissociation

Frequently accompanied by depression, anxiety, anger, substance abuse, or rage

Says Wikipedia

Let's see if and how Hawks fits these behaviour patterns.

(If you read this and suddenly realise “Oh shit I do stuff like that!” then please know you are in no way a horrible person. You did not choose any of these things. Stay safe cuz the world needs you.)

I'm intentionally leaving the Identity part for last.

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment, and extreme reactions to such.

And

Splitting ("black-and-white" thinking)

I'm gonna take both points on at the same time cuz they are dependend on one another and one thing causes the other.

Why did he suddenly switch from “I don't want to fight you! I want to help you!” while looking desperate and disturbed (and meaning it!) to a pretty much emotionless “I have to kill you” (and meaning that too)?

He wanted to help Twice!

He really believes that Rehabilitation is the way to go for him.

After all, Twice is a good person and good people should have no troubles in hero society, right? Only bad people are villains, right?

If Twice is a good person he should have no problems choosing Rehabilitation and come back to the hero side, right? They are friends and that's what friends do right? Friends agree with one another, right?

And then Twice declines and insults the one thing Hawks really believes in (because he never was taught anything else).

Which caused Hawks to:

Perceive Twice as an enemy instead.

Friends agree with one another and Twice does not agree which means he is not a friend which means he is an enemy and should be killed.

Hawks (probably) has never killed before and it's not the job of a hero even. Heroes should go out of their way to avoid murder and bloodshed.

So in my opinion this sudden switch from “my friend” to “enemy” is definitely fueled by Hawks own emotions. The feeling of betrayal; not only did Twice insult the hero system he also insulted Hawks himself because Hawks cannot seperate himself from the System. As far as he perceives it they are one. It is Hawks sole identity.

It is easy for us to say there are bad heroes and good villains.

Because what is Good and what is Bad can change from situation to situation and is always dependend on circumstances.

A person can both be good and bad at the same.

A person can give lots of money to charity. We would say that's a good person.

The same person can also constantly lie to people and be unreliable towards their friends.

We would say that's a bad person.

But we know it's the same person and we all do things that are good AND bad. We all do good things. And we also have done bad things.

What I wanna say is, no person is completely black or white. We are all shades of grey.

“I really love to have Joe as a friend. He's such a great listener and we have amazing talks but he really has to come clean to his girlfriend about crashing her car.”

For Hawks, this is not so easy to understand.

In his mind a person can either be good OR bad.

All villains are bad. All heroes are good.

This ties in with his own anxiety about not solving a situation in the best possible way.

Making even one mistake is not an option. Heroes are good people and good people don't make mistakes.

He was So Close to realising that Twice is a good person even though he is a villain but one of these moments cannot undo over a decade of brainwashing.

“The contradictionary truth that things or persons can be black and white, good or bad, etc At The Same Time, seems unimaginable.”

(Fragmented Selves: Temporality and Identity in Borderline Personality Disorder by Thomas Fuchs)

Impulsive behaviour

This one is either easy or hard, depending on how you look at it.

We don't know what Hawks does in his free time and if he even has anything like such.

But reckless behaviours are basically part of his job so he probably already gets his fill there.

Intense or uncontrollable emotional reactions that often seem disproportionate to the event or situation

See his reaction towards Twice.

Unstable and chaotic interpersonal relationships

Or rather, a complete lack of any relationship whatsoever.

He either idolises people (Endeavor) or demonises them (Twice right now).

One could argue that as of now Hawks is completely incapable or forming any sort of emotional connection. He himself says he doesn't get attached, sees it as a weakness. For me it sounds like a defense mechanism.

He Did get attached to Twice and we saw how that played out.

But Hawks getting hurt over and over is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Thinking of someone as either completely good or completely bad does little to aid a friendship.

Endeavor’s abuse getting exposed would probably cause Hawks to go through a crisis. He idolises Endeavor. In his eyes Endeavor can do no wrong.

Normally I would say this is something that must be avoided at any cost but in Hawks case, it is probably a necessary step to help him break the lock of his golden cage.

Self-damaging behavior

“If corrupting myself is enough to put everyone at ease then I will gladly take on this job”, anyone?

Hawks sending all his feathers to Endeavor to help him anyone?

When is this bird NOT hurting himself?

There are many ways to self-harm and this is Hawks way to do it.

Isn't it convenient that nobody would question is since he's just doing his job?

Distorted self-image

Goes hand in hand with the very first point which I wanna do last, just in case it gets really really long.

Dissociation

To be honest, I couldn't find any signs of that in Hawks. If someone of you can, just correct me.

Frequently accompanied by depression, anxiety, anger, substance abuse, or rage

Hawks seems to vaguely know that something is going wrong in his life and he absolutely does not like his circumstances.

He wishes to be free.

When he looked at Twice and smiled and said “A cage is not where I belong” it seemed to me like he looked more pained than genuinely joking.

He mentions drinking alcohol after work so this could or could not mean anything.

Maybe he wishes he could get smashed after work?

Who knows.

But he is definitely depressed and tries to cover it with jokes. Some depressed people joke even more the worse they feel.

Seriously, his interactions with Twice seemed to be the most genuine ones, where he was/is the most vulnerable.

The jovial, easygoing, chatty Hawks is a lie. A lie he has forced himself to believe in.

A role he has to play. But he played it for so long he forgot that it is just a role in a play and not real.

Part 2 Hawks must die

Okay, that sounds really harsh. I promise it's just a metaphorical death. I'm side-eyeing Horikoshi so hard right now.

Now we will take a look at his identity, or lack of one.

Lately what I really was reminded of was this “Inner child” thing.

We only caught glimpses of Hawks as a literal child. He probably grew up in an unstable home. Probably had no one really looking after him, why else would such a young child roam around the city alone so freely that it has the chance to help in a car crash?

He didn't look much older than 6 or 8.

The Hero Commission discovered him and took him in and “provided for his entire family”.

What happened was that he was apparently completely removed from his family and was put into a clinical environment, cold, not suited for children at all, hell probably barely suited for any human being.

Hawks remembers that even as a child he was taught interrogation techniques. Espionage.

From a very young age he was taught to leave himself behind. To mold himself into whatever he needs to be to complete the mission. To be a chameleon. A mirror. Just a reflection of what others expect him to be.

He has to be A so he becomes A. He has to be B now so he ignores he ever was A and is B now.

He has to be Hawks so Takami Keigo becomes Hawks and leaves himself behind.

The last time he was Takami Keigo was when he was a child.

Change is a normal part in humans. It's very important during puberty. That's why teenagers experiment with it so much.

“Oh, it's just a phase” sneer the adults when the teen wears only black and say thats the “Real me”. In a few months the same teen probably tries something else.

That's a good and normal thing. Even as adults we are constantly changing and adapting.

But we never forget the person we once were. We stay connected to it, maybe remember it fondly and think of the friends we found that way.

Or sometimes we look back and cringe because “Wow, my parents really let me go outside like this?”

It forms one fluent narrative. All these changes are still us. We know that we are the same person as we were last year even if last year's us was completely different from today's us.

Hawks doesn't have this continuity.

He became Hawks and wasn't allowed any further change and he also wasn't allowed to be Takami Keigo at the same time. He is a tool to be used.

Takami Keigo is a frightened child. A child that made a decision and thought he did well and now this decision is his downfall.

Takami Keigo was never allowed to grow up. He was pushed away, so he can be Hawks instead, probably as an attempt to gain approval, to be praised, to be liked.

Hawks is an amazing actor, likeable, chatty, funny and witty, very competent at his job and smart.

Takami Keigo is a scared child.

If Hawks stops being Hawks there is nothing he can go back to.

Normally people with Borderline ofc also go through “phases” as everyone else does but instead of putting them all into a single narrative and file them all away under “That's me” every phase is it's own seperate story.

All energy is put into one “phase” as much as neurotypicals do but once this phase is over there is nothing that comes after it. When people without Borderline change “phases” we know a “home” we can revert to while we change. Our Self still exists in us wether we are currently obsessing about Ballett or Comics or Dinosaurs or Architecture or whatever.

For someone like Hawks theres either Ballet or comics or dinosaurs or whatever. No neutral spot. You are either the person who puts all their energy into becoming an archaeologist or you're nothing. Being something gives you a goal to work towards to. It tells you who to talk to, what to talk about, what to do in your free time etc.

Hawks being Hawks gives him a goal, a worldview, things to believe in, topics to talk about, a job, people to talk to, opinions to have etc. It gives him an identity, ready-made and easy to consume.

He cannot be anything else but Hawks. He is nothing beyond that.

Takami Keigo plays Hawks, they are not one and the same person.

He is Hawks but Hawks isn't Takami Keigo.

Takami Keigo holds no opinion of his own, no worldview, no goal, no hobbies, nothing.

Hawks has to die so Takami Keigo can heal. So the frightened child can finally grow up.

[dvp95]

so easy to come back into you

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: teen & up

warnings: none

tags: memory loss, canon compliant, hurt/comfort, established relationship, happy ending

word count: 8,856

sequel to still the best, more or less (which you can read on ao3 or here on tumblr)

read on ao3 or here!

"I hate saying it because it makes me feel like a fucking child, but none of this is fair."

Dan is watching the fern in the corner sway gently every time the standing fan blows air its way, because that's always a lot easier than looking Robin in the eye.

"Why do you think you sound like a child?"

"Because," says Dan, "adults know that life isn't fair."

"Do they," says Robin. It's not phrased like a question, so Dan doesn't answer it. She pauses just in case he wants to, but Dan doesn't want to talk about his parents' mottos today. "Talk to me about fairness. What would be fair for you, Dan?"

The fern settles as the wind direction changes again. "It's not about what's fair for me. He needs me to hold it together."

"You're not prioritizing your own feelings," Robin says gently. She doesn't need to voice the again, the as per usual. Dan hears it anyway.

"It feels selfish," says Dan. "To want more than he can give me. But - fuck, I really miss him."

"Do you resent him? For not giving you more?"

"No," Dan says, kneejerk. Robin waits, giving him a chance to think about it properly. Her silences used to unnerve Dan, make him feel like she was sitting there judging him, but that was a few years ago. He's grateful for it now. "Not... really. I don't resent him, because he's doing what he can, all he knows how to do, but I resent... the situation."

"The unfair situation."

"Yeah."

He chances a glance at Robin, who smiles when their eyes meet. Her legs are crossed at the ankles and she has a notebook in her lap that she hasn't touched yet today.

"I know this is going to sound obvious," she says, "but have you spoken to Phil about this?"

No. Dan can't do that to him, can't saddle him with more stress than he's already got, can't take the risk that he'll decide Dan's more trouble than he's worth. He shakes his head.

"You don't know Phil," he says instead. "Hell, I don't even know Phil right now. But he's not exactly the type to wear everything on his sleeve. It felt... easy, the first time, because we were on, like, level playing ground. But now... I don't know. I guess I'm noticing how much shit he doesn't tell me. And if I spoke to him about feelings, I don't think he'd know how to handle that at all."

"What bothers you more?" Robin asks, leaning forward a bit. "That you don't know what Phil is thinking, or that he doesn't know what you're thinking?"

Dan doesn't have an answer for her. He looks back at the fern and resolves to think about it.

--

It's like Uncanny Valley happening in real time. Dan will stumble into the kitchen to see someone that looks like Phil making coffee. He'll wrap his arms around its waist and kiss its shoulder, and it feels like Phil. Then it'll open its mouth and say something that's just this side of wrong, and Dan is jolted into remembering again.

--

Phil can only get away with not seeing his family for so long. They're close, the Lesters, in a way that Dan used to be jealous of.

That was before. Before Florida, before the Isle, before before before. Dan is naturally a jealous person, to be honest, but how could he have stayed jealous of something he was so wholeheartedly included in?

"If you don't let Martyn come and check on you, your parents will show up at our door without warning," Dan tells him when he hits ignore on yet another FaceTime call.

It's one of Phil's big fears, Dan knows,; his parents suddenly looking old. It's why they travel to see them more than they really need to, so Phil can look at his parents and reassure himself that they haven't aged a decade overnight.

Not a reassurance he'll get now, clearly.

"I know," Phil says on a sigh, toying with the volume buttons. He's still getting used to his phone. Dan had limited the apps on it before handing it over last week, still paranoid of Phil getting overwhelmed.

"You'd rather see Martyn first," Dan says with a confidence he doesn't feel. "He's in London. I'll tell him to come for dinner, okay?"

Phil looks over at him, and Dan hates this part. He knows there's something happening behind Phil's eyes, but they're so carefully neutral that he couldn't possibly guess what it is. It's not something that used to get directed at him, not often anyway, not outside of arguments or surprises. It's all he sees now.

"Okay," Phil finally agrees. Relief washes over Dan. "You're right, Martyn is better right now."

So Dan tells Martyn to come over, and then he helps Phil clean the flat. He always freaks out when guests are coming and does weird things like scrub the baseboards. This, at least, has not changed.

They play music loudly to make the cleaning feel like fun rather than a chore. Phil makes up words to every song, even if he knows it, and Dan nearly eats shit when he steps onto a fresh-mopped floor in socks. The way Phil laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever seen almost makes up for Dan's life flashing before his eyes. It's a good day.

The problem is, Dan can't shake the feeling that he's playing house.

Phil is Phil, except in the ways that he isn't. He might as well be a stranger for all Dan actually knows him. He's heard stories about this Phil, obviously, met him not too long after this, watched him grow into the man he is now. Was. The man he was. Hopefully, the man he will be again.

Until that time comes, though, Dan is going to have to suck it up and deal with the unsettled feeling in his gut.

He takes a shower so he doesn't have to watch Phil make dinner, still familiarizing himself with the contents of all their cupboards. He uses Phil's body wash so he can continue clinging to any part of him that's still around.

Their buzzer goes off fifteen minutes before the agreed meeting time. Dan wonders what fear Kath and Nigel instilled in their sons to make them so prompt as adults, because his parents certainly missed the boat on that one. Phil gives him meerkat eyes, so Dan goes to answer it with a flurry of hellos and how was the journeys and then the conversation trails off to make room for the elephant in the corner.

Martyn gives him a hug, the kind of full-body one reserved for celebration; Cornelia's hug is tight around his ribs, and Dan almost gets choked up by the care they're showing him.

Neither of them are smiling. Dan realises that he isn't smiling, either. The entry landing is quiet, somber, like they're a trio in mourning.

"He's in the kitchen," Dan says when the quiet starts to get to him.

"How you doing, mate?" Martyn asks.

"Not great," says Dan. It feels both good and bad to be so honest, but there's no point in trying to bullshit either of them. "Like, it's been a bit of an adjustment."

"No kidding," Cornelia says in her soft, musical voice. She takes Dan's hand and squeezes it. Her hand is soft and so small that Dan is worried, ridiculously, about hurting her, but her grip is strong as she leads the way to the kitchen.

Phil stays facing the stove for as long as he possibly can before it would be weird, turning around with that carefully neutral mask on.

"Hey, Mar," he says, his voice not giving away how freaked out he's been all day.

It's not like watching Phil put on different faces is new to Dan, exactly, but he can count the times Phil's done it around his family on one hand.

Martyn either doesn't notice or is very good at hiding his emotions, too, because he just smiles and comes closer to clap Phil on the shoulder. "Hey. Heard you went and got yourself another brain injury."

"Yeah, I'm trying to beat the Guinness World Record," Phil quips. His guarded eyes sweep over Dan and Cornelia, still joined at the hand, and he smiles. "Who's this, then?"

"I'm Cornelia, it's so nice to meet you - again." Cornelia laughs, a tinkling bell of a noise that makes the kitchen feel brighter. She lets go of Dan to envelop Phil in a tight hug around his waist. "You can call me Corn if you like, I don't mind."

"Nice to meet you, Corny," says Phil. The unapproved nickname is on purpose, Dan knows - he's trying to make himself more comfortable by being silly.

Cornelia laughs again and lets go of Phil, her eyes twinkling. "You must have so many tales about your brother."

Like magic, Phil's whole face brightens until he's Phil again.

They trade stories about Martyn while the man in question protests, argues about details, puts Phil in a headlock and messes up his hair. Dan doesn't chime in, just stirs the pasta sauce and lets the three of them bond. He's heard most of the stories before, but some of them still surprise a laugh out of him. Every time he laughs, Phil looks at him with his eyes all scrunched up, happy, and Dan has to remind himself to breathe.

Dan expects things to be weird, honestly, but two Lesters in a room makes for easygoing conversation all through dinner. When Phil gets confused or trips up, Martyn recovers the dialogue like he never dropped the ball. It's a relief not to be the only one doing that for Phil.

It's a relief, but it's also frustrating. Dan is naturally a jealous person. He wants to be the one Phil looks to for explanations and reassurance.

He knows that Phil needs a bigger support system for both of their sakes, but Dan can't help the childish craving for Phil's attention whenever Martyn or Cornelia make him laugh.

"Mum wants to know if you need anything, by the way," says Martyn. Dan starts a bit when he realises the statement is directed at him.

"Oh," Dan says, idly folding and refolding his paper napkin. "Like what?"

"Hell if I know, but she told me to offer."

"Like photo albums or anything," Cornelia suggests. "Or maybe she just means cakes? She makes a lot of cakes when she's stressed, doesn't she?"

"She does," says Dan, a smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, tell mum to send whatever care package she thinks is best."

Phil's eyes fix on Dan, staring a hole into the side of his face until he turns. Martyn and Cornelia are already joking about what Kath will send, but Phil is just. Looking at Dan. With a small, shy sort of smile, Dan nudges Phil's thigh under the table.

"What?" he murmurs, leaning a bit closer to Phil so that they've got the illusion of privacy.

"Nothing," says Phil. He smiles too, a genuine one that makes the tightness in Dan's chest melt away. "Sounds like my mum likes you a lot."

"I like to think she does."

"Oh, she does," Martyn cuts in, not even pretending he wasn't listening. "Likes him better than she does me, some days."

"But neither of us can compare with the favourite," Dan sniffs.

"Fucking mama's boy over there," says Martyn.

"Now, now, be nice," Cornelia hums. She folds her own napkin into origami and gives them a cheeky grin. "It's not her fault that Phil's the only one here who hasn't said cunt in front of her."

"Hey," Phil protests lightly.

"That's because -"

"He hasn't because -"

Dan and Martyn shout over each other, both trying to get the joke in before the other one gasps it out, yelling 'he's never seen one!' in a sort of chaotic harmony.

The appalled look on Phil's face makes Dan cackle, leaning off his chair with it. Martyn manages to hold a straight face for about five seconds before he's snickering, too, and then the two of them are lost in fits of laughter. It isn't even that funny, but every time Dan looks up and sees Phil - all disapproving and trying not to grin - or Cornelia - humming a tune and looking for all the world like she's on another planet - he sets himself off again.

"Why don't I help you clear the table, Phil," says Cornelia, giving Martyn a fond sort of smile. "Let them get it out of their system."

"It's hard when you don't have any other twelve year olds to bant with," Phil says solemnly, and Dan honks another loud noise of mirth. As he takes Dan's plate, Phil tugs at one of his curls.

Dan smiles, wide, and leans up to press his giggles into the corner of Phil's mouth for a half second. It's nothing Martyn hasn't seen before, but Phil still jerks back as he stands up straight and blinks over at his brother like he's expecting - something. Dan doesn't know what's happening in his brain.

Whatever he thinks Martyn is going to say or do doesn't happen, though, and Phil's shoulders relax as he follows Cornelia into the kitchen.

Still trying to get a handle on the bout of hysteria, Dan clears his throat before speaking. "Th-that was weird, right?"

"Mm?" Martyn prompts, fighting his own stupid grins back. "What was weird?"

"Phil, just now," says Dan.

"Oh, that." Martyn shrugs. "He hasn't come out to me yet. I mean - obviously, like, he has done, he did that ages ago, but - for him, the way he's - ugh. Mate, I don't know how you're doing this."

"It's easy sometimes," Dan says honestly.

"Easy how?"

Martyn's voice is all curiosity and no judgement. He rests his jaw on his palm as he waits for Dan to collect his thoughts, something Dan has watched Phil do a thousand times. It makes him smile and also somehow simultaneously makes him want to cry.

"Easy like everything about being with him is easy," says Dan. He keeps his voice low in case Phil is trying to eavesdrop. "The situation sucks, but. He's still Phil, y'know? I still love him. He still leaves his socks everywhere and has awful trash talk when we play games. And he wants to be here, he likes being around me, so. That part is easy. Being with him is easy."

"You've said that," Martyn says.

"I was repeating myself for emphasis."

"Really? I just figured you got lost in your own rambling again."

Dan flips him off and keeps talking like Martyn hadn't interrupted. "Plus, he doesn't know all the bad shit about me yet. Like, he knows I'm a human disaster, but. The actual bad shit."

"Whatever 'bad shit' you're talking about," says Martyn, doing finger quotes in the same stupid way that Phil does, using his whole hand, "if it didn't scare him off the first time, it won't do again."

"I'm not totally sure of that," Dan admits.

"Then you're very stupid," says Martyn, matter-of-fact.

That startles another laugh out of Dan, and he kicks at Martyn's shin under the table. Martyn kicks back, harder.

"Cunt," he says, and there's a beat of silence before they both lose it again.

--

As much as he loves them, Dan feels relief wash over him when the door closes behind Martyn and Cornelia. He sees Phil's shoulders slump with the same feeling as he grins at Dan.

"You were right," Phil says. "That wasn't so bad. I think mum and dad are going to be a lot harder to see again."

"Yeah, but mum and dad love you," Dan reminds him, leading the way downstairs. He hears Phil make a small, surprised noise and assumes he missed a step or something. "And they're stubborn as you are, y'know. You can't hide from them forever."

"It's only been a few weeks," Phil mumbles.

"That's forever in Lester time."

Phil hums and flops down on their sofa, right in Dan's usual, creased spot. "Guess so. What's your family like?"

The question catches Dan off guard and he hesitates in the process of tucking his legs underneath him on the sofa. After a beat, he finishes getting comfortable and says, "Fine, I guess."

"You guess," says Phil. "I don't know anything about them! Do you have any siblings?"

"Yeah," Dan says slowly. He doesn't want to talk about this. It took long enough for his Phil to understand the relationship Dan had with the rest of his family, he doesn't expect this Phil to get it at all. "Got a little brother. We're not close in age."

Phil is nodding before Dan finishes talking. "Yeah, you seem like an older brother."

He doesn't elaborate. Dan doesn't ask him to, because he's not sure he wants to know what parts of his personality show all the guilt and resentment and protectiveness he feels when he thinks of Adrian.

"Thanks, I think," says Dan. "You want to play Mario Kart?"

Thankfully, Phil doesn't press the topic. He shakes his head, though, and stretches his arms out.

"I'm just gonna go read in bed, I think. Long day."

"Alright," Dan says. "Let me just grab my laptop and I'll come with."

Phil hesitates. Bites his lip. Says, "Oh. I... sorry, I'm used to you just, like, getting it. Totally forgot how to communicate like a person. Having people over drains me, like, a lot. So I need to go recharge before bed."

Dan doesn't get it, not at first, and Phil's voice is gentle when he adds, "Alone."

"Oh," says Dan. He tries to act like lead hasn't dropped into his stomach. "No, yeah, of course. I'm an introvert too, so. I get it."

"Thanks, Dan," Phil says in evident relief.

He must be dying to get away from you, the self-destructive part of Dan's brain says. Dan tries to ignore it as he goes to the gaming room to play some Skyrim and lose himself in the virtual reality world. He doesn't give his depression brain goblin the satisfaction of convincing him that Phil suddenly hates him, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

In ten years, Dan has never once counted as 'people' for Phil, and vice versa. They'd stumble home from overwhelming social events and world tours and still crawl into bed together, doing their own activities in silence while they recharged together.

It's just because Phil isn't as familiar with Dan, it's nothing personal, but. Dan's character gets caught by a guard while he's distracted.

He plays until his eyes are burning and carefully packs the headset away so one of them doesn't trip over it again. Judging by the time on his phone, Phil's probably fallen asleep already.

That's good. Dan isn't sure that he can act like he isn't affected by Phil's sudden need for space.

Sure enough, Phil is snoring lightly when Dan gets to their room. He's propped up on his pillow, his book is open on his chest, and his glasses are in danger of falling off. It's a sight Dan has grown so familiar with over the years that it warms him to the core, helps chase away the bad taste in his mouth that the word alone left there.

"Stupid," Dan murmurs. He puts Phil's glasses and book on the nightstand before he gets ready for bed. Phil doesn't stir until Dan slides under the covers with him.

"Mm? Huh?" he bleats, squinting in the general direction of Dan's ear as Dan maneuvers him into lying down properly.

"Shh," Dan soothes, running his palm up and down Phil's arm. At the sound of Dan's voice, Phil relaxes and shifts closer. He ends up with his cheek pressed to Dan's chest, his fingers curling around the pocket of Dan's sweats.

"Night, bear," Phil mumbles into Dan's shirt, and Dan stops breathing.

The room is quiet but for Phil's slow breaths and Dan's heart, which is suddenly pounding like he's running a fucking marathon.

Maybe he'd just said Dan's name. He was all muffled by the fabric and his accent has been more Northern than usual since the incident, besides. There's no way he said what Dan heard. There's no way, because Dan can't get his hopes up like that only to see the usual soft but guarded look on Phil's face in the morning.

Dan has a very hard time falling asleep.

--

In the morning Phil doesn't act any differently, and Dan resigns himself to having misheard. He could ask Phil, sure, but Phil has always been a bit of a mimic - he's been repeating phrases from the AmazingPhil channel that he doesn't understand for weeks now, been latching onto Dan's speaking patterns for years before that - so Dan doesn't want to bring something like this to his attention. For all he knows, Phil would start calling him that every day, and it's not exactly their most used nickname as it is. It'd be weird to hear it all the time.

--

Most days, honestly, are good. Dan goes for long walks, watches tv, plays games, eats good food, kisses his boyfriend, ignores all the tweets and messages asking for updates on Phil's status.

He still doesn't think Phil needed to make it a video, but Phil had insisted. The story has some humour in it, Dan supposes, but Phil looking wide-eyed at the camera and saying, "and I was like, who's this giant man threatening to call my mum, I was freaking out," isn't something Dan will be able to laugh about anytime soon.

A little over a week after the first, Phil films another video. He answers a mixture of silly and serious questions to reassure everyone that he's fine, more or less. Dan stands behind the camera the whole time and tries not to laugh or make comments.

He's always liked watching Phil work, but this is different. Phil is rougher than he'd been before Dan met him, stumbles over his words a lot, looks at the viewfinder or at Dan instead of the lens. He's less polished. Dan actually thinks it's sweet.

Even though most days are good, Dan still has moments that almost take him out at the knees with how much they make him ache.

It's all the times that Phil will say or do something that makes Dan think, oh, there he is, he's back, only to learn that Phil picked up the habit from watching his own videos. He's a mimic, always has been, and every time a stupid meme comes out of his mouth, Dan has to experience fresh disappointment all over again.

It's all the times that Phil will kiss him, compliment him, wind his long fingers into Dan's belt loops and pull him close just to feel him. Phil is more tactile than he's been in years, not settled into their relationship the same way Dan has.

It's the time, singular, that Dan comes downstairs and sees Phil with his hand in a box of cereal. He scolds him like he's always done and Phil - Phil apologises. Says he really didn't know, and is there anything else he shouldn't be eating? Should he label Dan's food so he doesn't forget? Dan has to leave the kitchen. He never expected the loss of grand theft cereal to be the first thing to make him cry over the situation.

Most days are good, but Dan finds himself waiting on a precipice for something that Phil may never be able to give him.

--

"It's October."

Dan makes a noncommittal sort of noise around his toothbrush and spits in the sink. "Sure is. I'm thrilled you finally learned how to read a calendar."

"Your mum can read a calendar," says Phil. He's shaving, frowning at himself in the mirror every once in a while, and Dan wishes he could make that self-conscious part of Phil's brain be quiet for a little while. "I just mean, it's October. You said it's ten years this month."

In the mirror, Dan watches himself smile. "Yeah. The nineteenth, if you were wondering."

"That's soon," Phil says, smiling back at Dan when he catches his eye in their reflection. "What are we doing for it?"

"Same thing we do every year," says Dan. "Fuck all."

He expects Phil to laugh or roll his eyes, but Phil frowns. "We don't celebrate it?"

"No, I mean," Dan says, feeling awkward now. He puts his toothbrush away so he can wrap an arm around Phil's hip and duck a kiss to his shoulder. "We weren't out for a really long time, right, and the day meant something to us publicly, so. If we left the house it would have been a whole thing. We just get Dominos and watch some Ghibli or something and have sex. It's a good tradition."

"But it's ten years." Phil still sounds like he can't believe it, every time. "And we're out now. We can do something different, I think. It's not like you're gonna have sex with me, anyway, so the tradition is already shot."

Phil's just being matter-of-fact about it, not annoyed or anything, but Dan still feels the familiar weight of guilt settle over his shoulders.

It's not like Dan doesn't know he's been weird about it. They've been kissing every day, cuddling every night, giving each other soft touches to remind the other that they're there every moment in between, and that hasn't been an issue.

The moment Phil had put his tongue in Dan's mouth and slid his hands up Dan's shirt - well. Dan wouldn't call it a panic attack, exactly, but he'd had a very non-sexy physical reaction. It had been good, because making out with Phil was always good, but. It had also felt like kissing a stranger, because that wasn't the way Phil would kiss him Before. So he'd gotten weird, and Phil had easily accepted the new boundary.

"It's not that I don't want to," Dan mumbles into Phil's shoulder.

"Shut up," says Phil, all affection.

Before Phil can put his razor away, Dan takes it from him and tilts Phil's head gently. "Missed a spot."

"Oh. Thanks."

"What d'you want to do, then?" Dan asks as he finishes off Phil's face. "I mean it when I said we've never really done anything for it. I had no idea you'd even want to."

"We don't need to do anything, like, fancy," Phil says. He's surprisingly patient with Dan doing this for him, managing to stay still and not get himself nicked. "And I don't know what 2019 me is thinking or anything, but I'd bet he would want to do something, too. Ten years is a long time, Dan."

"Don't need to tell me," says Dan. "Spent my whole adult life with you, stupid."

Phil hums. Dan can feel the vibration of it where his fingertips rest against Phil's throat. "Yeah? How old are you?"

"I'm surprised you haven't Googled me yet. Twenty-eight."

After turning Phil's face this way and that to make sure he's clean-shaven, Dan leans in for a soft kiss. He wraps his arms around Phil's waist and feels warmth spread through his chest when Phil cups his jaw, brushes his thumbs over the places where Dan's dimples appear. Phil has never cared about Dan's dimples so loudly the way he does now, and Dan would be lying if he said he didn't like this minor change.

"Forgot what we were talking about," Phil admits when they break apart, grinning dumbly at each other.

"Anniversary," says Dan.

"Right," says Phil. "We can just, like, get coffee. You can show me round London."

"Oh, so you have been Googling?"

"Googling what?"

Phil sounds sincere enough, but Dan knows not to put total trust in that. The sincerity is always what makes him fall for Phil's stupid pranks.

"Sure, so you weren't thinking that we should go to Starbucks," Dan drawls, tracing shapes over Phil's lower back through his cotton shirt, "and then go check out some shops, and go for some drinks, and go on the Eye?"

"I wasn't thinking any of those specifics at all," Phil says with a laugh. He bumps his nose against Dan's, gentle. "Except the Starbucks. But it sounds nice, if that's what you want to do."

Does Dan want to do that? Does he want to relive that? With Phil's guarded eyes?

"No, that's okay," says Dan. "Too cliché. We'll go to Starbucks and, like, the arcade or something. I'll kick your ass at DDR."

"That sounds great, too. Thanks, Dan."

"Stupid. Don't need to thank me."

They just stand there for a little while, smiling and pressing soft kisses to the other's face, until Dan's stomach makes an audible noise. Phil laughs, tongue between his teeth, and pats Dan's tummy.

"C'mon, you lug. I'll make you some pancakes."

--

When Phil continues to only speak to his parents through text and refuses to answer any questions about when they can come round, Dan takes matters into his own hands.

"Phil," he says, kicking at him from across the sofa.

"What?" Phil asks. He doesn't look up from his graphic novel, but he settles a hand over Dan's ankle.

"Your parents are coming over tomorrow." Dan gives him a very stern look when his head jerks up, full meerkat mode engaged. "Don't you look at me like that. I've got therapy, so you can talk to them for a little bit on your own, okay? We aren't going to keep ignoring them til fucking Christmas or you'll be written out of the will."

"Dan," Phil says, and his eyes are so round and terrified that Dan almost feels guilty about giving Kath and Nigel the green light.

"No, Phil." Dan is using the voice that he has to use when Phil does very stupid things like accept someone's open beer at a uni party or refuse to call the gym back after being traumatized. "They're worried and upset and they keep calling me about it."

He's worried he's gone too far, for a moment. Phil looks down to where he's holding Dan's ankle and admits, "I'm really, really scared. I don't want them to look old."

"They don't look old," Dan says, softening his tone and crawling into Phil's lap. The graphic novel gets put behind him on the coffee table, where it'll be safe, and Phil's hands curl around his hips. Dan runs his thumb over the worry lines between Phil's eyebrows to try and smooth them out. "You don't look old, Martyn doesn't look old, your parents don't look old. You all just look older."

"That's the same thing," Phil whispers.

"It's not." Dan will die on this hill. He kisses the discoloured patch on Phil's forehead, knowing how much its existence bothers him. "You love your parents so much. You have such a - like, the relationship you guys have is amazing. It's what -"

He swallows hard. He knows how he wants to end the sentence, but he isn't sure Phil is ready to hear it. They're not the same people they were two months ago. Dan can't say the same things anymore.

Phil doesn't push for him to keep talking. "I'm scared, Dan," he says again, burying his face into Dan's neck.

Repressing a shiver, because Phil doesn't know better than to breathe all over his neck, Dan soothingly runs his fingers through Phil's hair. "I know. But you have to rip the bandaid off. It's been a month and they're going crazy."

"You're right," Phil sighs against Dan's pulse point. Dan's heart quickens. He tells it, very firmly, to shut the fuck up. "I know you're right. What time are they coming?"

--

Robin doesn't have a clock in her office. She keeps time on her phone, which is kept face down on her armrest and goes off with a gentle beep every fifteen minutes. Dan had found it unsettling at first, but he doesn't even notice it now.

"I didn't like leaving him alone," Dan says as soon as he sits down. "They just got here, didn't even get their shoes off, but. I needed to be here, y'know?"

"I don't know," says Robin. "You haven't framed the issue at all."

She's good at that. Reminding Dan to keep his thoughts in context so that he doesn't spiral. He smiles at her before turning his eyes to his favourite fern.

"I asked Phil's parents to come over without telling him," he tells the plant, because that's easier than telling Robin. "He's scared of seeing them, I told you that last week and the week before that and - sorry. But, he is. And talking to him about it wasn't doing anything, he was listening but he wasn't doing anything, so. I called them. Am I a bad person?"

"Not at all," Robin says without hesitation. "One choice doesn't make or break you, Dan. Did you call Phil's parents because you were frustrated with him, or did you call because you were worried about him?"

"A little of both," Dan says honestly. He's long past lying through his teeth to his therapists.

"Those are very valid emotions for you to feel right now," says Robin. "What did I say to you last week?"

She'd said a lot of things the previous week. Dan thinks back, carefully pages through the file folder in his brain where he keeps the sessions to take out and peruse at his own pace. "You said... there's no guidebook for this. It's not a normal situation. Even if it was, it would be impossible to navigate until you're in it."

"That's right." The fern's leaves flutter in the breeze.

"I'm worried that he won't forgive me," Dan tells it. "He doesn't love me anymore, you know. That means he can just leave when I fuck up."

"Doesn't he?" Robin hums. She's writing things down today. That usually means she wants to quote Dan's own words back at him later. "Has there ever been a time that Phil didn't forgive you for something?"

No. Not once.

Dan stays quiet for a few minutes. It isn't until the soft beep comes from Robin's phone that he says, "I want to talk about my dad."

--

It isn't the smartest decision Dan's ever had, spending most of today's session unraveling some of the tangled web of trauma that he and Robin have been working on for years. He knows it'll feel good later, it always does, but for now he's just. Tired.

He gives a round of hugs when he gets home, nearly tearing up when Nigel pats his back, and begs off to take a nap as soon as he sees the relaxed expression on Phil's face.

Selfish, his goblin brain whispers as he crawls under the covers and does his breathing exercises.

In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Just simple counts to help him fall asleep and focus his mind on something other than the very hard therapy session he's still processing. It's almost like meditation.

Later, he'll get up and cook dinner. He'll chat with the Lesters and keep Phil's spirits up and think about how this, this is what he wants. This is what he's afraid to tell this Phil he wants. He wants to stand in his child's kitchen and watch them be happy, wants them to want him around, wants what he never knew was an option until he met Kath and Nigel.

For now, he'll keep breathing.

--

"I'm not wearing that," Phil says flatly.

"You're the one who bought it," says Dan, already exasperated with the argument. He puts the pastel hoodie away and comes back with another hanger, one of Phil's favourite tees. "Fine, this one?"

"No," says Phil. "What the fuck? No. Why do I own that?"

"Because you like it."

"It just says 'vibes'. What's there to like?"

"I'm going to kill you," Dan informs him, "and I'm not even joking a little bit."

"Why don't we just go shopping," Phil groans, flopping back onto the bed and starfishing out.

"Because you have an entire closet full of things here!"

"So I'll get rid of some stuff," says Phil. He shrugs, turns his head to look at Dan. His hair is getting longer, falling into his eyes a bit when he leaves it down. "No big deal."

Dan's breath hitches. His voice is too sharp when he says, "Like fuck you will."

Immediately, he wants to take it back. He knows better, knows that nothing can be accomplished by them getting angry with each other. He's just standing there in their bedroom, holding a t-shirt by its hanger and looking at Phil with eyes as wide as Phil's own.

Then, Phil sits up. "They're my clothes," he says.

They're not, Dan thinks.

"They're not," Dan says.

"Funny," says Phil, and his voice is cooler now. "Thought you said I bought them. Seems like it should be my decision if I get rid of them or not, right?"

"No, because," Dan says, then stops. He can't say what he's thinking, what's on the tip of his tongue, because it's not fair.

Phil's expression shutters even further. "Because I'm not him, right?"

"He's not a fucking - you're not separate people, Phil." Dan's hands are shaking as he puts the hanger back into the closet, making sure it's spaced evenly between the other shirts so he doesn't have to look at Phil.

"I'm not?" Phil asks. His voice has gone all quiet, still cool, and Dan feels a chill go up his spine. "You've been acting so - like. Dan. You've been so bloody good to me, you've made me feel so safe and, like I'm home, but I don't think you're talking to me about yourself at all. How do you feel about this? Do you think I'm a different guy now? Do you miss him? Why don't -"

"Stop," says Dan. He's proud of the way he holds it together, stops the word from wobbling out.

"No," Phil says, because he's never argued with Dan before. He doesn't know how, yet, how to soften the sharp edges of all they have to say to each other until it's something productive instead of hurtful. "You're not talking to me."

"I don't want to talk to you about this."

Dan finally turns around. He wishes he hadn't, because Phil's expression looks like he's been slapped for a half second until he schools it into the carefully neutral one that Dan hates.

"We've been together ten years," Phil says. "And you won't tell me how you're feeling?"

"We've been together a month," Dan says. He'll regret the words later. He's regretting them already.

"Am I separate people or not, Daniel?"

The name cuts through any and all composure that Dan might have built up. He sees it again, the confusion and panic in Phil's eyes as he said I don't know what else to call you, that moment where Dan had finally believed him and felt his heart drop into his fucking gut, and he breaks down.

He cries for the first time since the cereal incident, wracking sobs that are frankly embarrassing to let out in front of another human, and lets himself sink to the floor. Part of him likes the drama of it all, but the rest of him is just fucking miserable.

"Fuck," Phil says, the mask he'd slipped on broken by pure panic, and Dan is getting wrapped up in a strong, familiar embrace. "Fuck, Dan, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

It's okay, is what Dan wants to say. It's okay because it's you, and I love you, and you're here even though you don't have to be.

He can't say any of that, though, because he can't even breathe. It's like all of it is coming up at once and making Dan's whole body shake with it. He tries to do his breathing exercises, four-seven-eight, but he can't focus enough.

"It's not fair," is what he manages to gasp out.

Dan's parents would hate that phrase, coming out of his mouth while he cried like a baby. Life isn't fair, they'd remind him, and he'd figure that out when he grew up.

"I know it's not, baby," is what Phil says, though. He doesn't call Dan pet names often at all. Dan wonders if Phil is panicking just as much as he is right now. "I know, it - this sucks, okay, I know it does. But you gotta breathe for me. Can you breathe for me?"

Dan doesn't know.

Somehow, he gets that uncertainty across to Phil, because he's manhandling Dan between his legs now. Dan is coaxed into sitting with his back pressed flush to Phil's chest, Phil's long legs bracketing his own, and Phil puts both palms flat onto Dan's torso. One on his chest, right above his heart; the other on his stomach. It's no more intimate than their nighttime cuddling, really.

"Dan," Phil says into his ear. Dan covers his own face with his hands, hiding from the softness he doesn't deserve. "Hey. Put your hands over mine, bear."

This time, Dan couldn't have possibly misheard it. There's nothing muffling Phil's voice and he's speaking directly into Dan's ear. It still doesn't seem like something that can happen, though, not right now.

Dan puts his shaking hands over each of Phil's and closes his eyes, his breaths still coming in ragged.

"That's good, there you go," says Phil. He's so soft, encouraging, warm, and it makes Dan want to start crying all over again. He digs his nails into the backs of Phil's hands a bit, but Phil doesn't complain. "You can feel me breathing against your back, right? Let's try and match it, yeah? Breathe in, one, two..."

As Phil counts and breathes deeply enough for Dan to feel the rise and fall of his chest, Dan does his best to emulate it.

By the time it's working and Dan's breath is starting to even out, Dan realizes that the breathing exercise Phil is guiding him through is his own. It's the one he brought home from therapy two years ago, the simple four-seven-eight that helped him fall asleep.

The realization makes Dan's breath hitch again. Phil makes a soft shushing noise, kisses the back of Dan's neck.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he murmurs, turning one of his hands over to link their fingers together.

"I just," says Dan. His voice feels hoarse, like he's been screaming for hours during a particularly frustrating game rather than just sobbing on his bedroom floor. "I don't know. Fuck. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Phil asks, bewildered. "What on earth are you sorry for? I'm the one who should be sorry, I was pushing you so much."

"I probably needed it." Dan sighs and rests his head back on Phil's shoulder. He smiles faintly when Phil's lips press against his cheek. "I'm usually better at. Y'know, talking. Feelings and shit. You're the one who sucks at it."

"Yeah, I do," Phil agrees easily.

Dan laughs, a little watery. "I'm having trouble with the idea that the man I fell in love with and spent a decade with is gone," he says, forcing a conversational tone so he doesn't back out of saying it. "And you're wonderful, you are, I still love you, but I keep. Waiting for you to know me."

"I do know you," Phil says softly. He's stroking over Dan's stomach with the hand not clasped in Dan's own. "Not the same way, maybe. But every day I'm here I know you a little bit better."

"I love you," says Dan, because he needs to, because the words are all he wants to say forever. "You don't have to say it back."

"Thanks," Phil hums. He kisses Dan's cheek again. "I'll wear the 'vibes' shirt if you really think I'll like it."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

Dan smiles and disentangles himself from Phil's koala grip just enough to rest on him sideways instead, his shoulder against Phil's clavicle and his legs thrown over Phil's thigh. "Hey. Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," Phil teases. "But yes, you can ask a second question."

"So generous," Dan says dryly.

The smile Phil gives him is so open that Dan can't help smiling back, pressing their lips together for a moment.

Phil plays with his curls and holds his hand and Dan knows that, even if Phil isn't ready to say it, there's love in every motion. It's not exactly comfortable here on the floor, but Dan will manage. The conversation has the potential to be very, very important.

"The breathing thing," says Dan. "Where did you... learn that?"

"Oh," Phil says, surprised, like that's the last thing he expected Dan to ask. He thinks about it for longer than he normally would and then just gives Dan a helpless shrug. "Dunno."

Dan's heart thuds so loud he expects a complaint from their neighbours about all the noise.

"I taught you that," he tells Phil quietly.

The way Phil's face lights up makes the entire night worth it.

--

It's not like a dam break. It's barely like a leaky tap. Every once in a while, Phil will just know something that he can't remember learning. Dan tries not to let himself be disappointed by every day that passes where Phil doesn't look at him and think, oh, there he is, that's the man who said he'd marry me five years ago and hasn't brought it up since. Instead, Phil gives him small moments, calls Dan's family dog by name and doesn't realize he's done anything extraordinary at all. It's not enough, because Dan doesn't think anything will be enough unless Phil remembers everything, but. It's a start. And he is so fucking grateful for it.

--

Phil's fingers have been carding through Dan's curls absently for several episodes of Adventure Time, and Dan has completely melted into his side from the gentle attention. Their legs are tangled together where they're curled up on the sofa in each other's pyjamas and Dan's tea has long since went cold while Phil's empty mug sits beside it.

The lounge is only lit by the screen, quiet but for the tv and the sound of Phil's huffs of laughter, and Dan feels so very safe.

"I'm sorry that I fucked up the other day," he murmurs during a set of end credits, not looking away from the screen. Phil's fingers pause in their quest, but only for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't have gotten so upset," says Dan. "I know you're doing your best."

"I am, but you're still allowed to wish things were different," Phil says, easy, like it's just a fact and not something that Dan has been wrestling with for weeks. "I don't take it personally if you do think of me as, like, two separate people. I kind of am. It sucks."

"Phil Lester, everyone," Dan hums, rubbing his thumb in circles over Phil's knee. "King of talking about his feelings. 'It sucks', 2019. Groundbreaking."

Phil giggles and presses a kiss to the side of Dan's head while shoving at him in the same breath. "Shut up, rat. Like you're any better."

"I am," Dan says, defensively.

"Really?" asks Phil. Dan imagines that an eyebrow is being raised, but he doesn't turn to confirm it.

"Yeah, really. Been to therapy for years, mate, not nearly as repressed as you."

"I'm not the one who kept everything here -" Phil taps at the centre of Dan's chest, "- until it all exploded. And it's like pulling teeth to get you to talk about yourself in a way that's not all self-deprecating and sounds like a comedy routine."

"Ooh, shots fired," says Dan, pulling Phil's hand up to his mouth to kiss each of his knuckles. He gets to Phil's ring finger and hesitates. "You asked me to marry you, y'know."

He keeps his voice quiet, casual, because he doesn't want to make a big deal out of any of this.

Phil inhales rather sharply but doesn't sound upset when he asks, "Did I? When?"

"Oh, ages ago," Dan says vaguely. "Neither of us were actually ready for it. Or maybe I wasn't ready for it and you were just an incredible boyfriend. But I said yes. Yes, but not right now. Yes but later."

"That doesn't surprise me. You procrastinate a lot."

"Hey," says Dan. There's no real protest in it. He keeps looking at the colourful, cute animation on screen and lets his newly built walls break down a little. "Yeah, I do. It was more than that, though. I was still so scared of what it would mean to be married to a man, y'know? And - have I told you about my parents?"

"Dan," says Phil. "You've told me exactly nothing about yourself unless I'm involved or you're trying to make me laugh."

That's probably true. Dan has been nervous to open up too much to Phil, so uncertain of how he reacts to things now. Not to mention how vulnerable it makes him feel to talk about himself when he knows everything about Phil.

"There's a lot I still don't want to talk about," Dan says, playing with Phil's hand. "Because I don't want to get into it all right now, you're not my therapist. But my parents' marriage wasn't working. Probably ever, to be honest, but especially around the time you asked me, because. That's the same time we were finding so much success, you and me, and my mum was actually getting - like, proud of me. For once. And he hated that, because I'm a shit son and all."

"You're not," Phil says, the interruption gentle.

"You don't know that," Dan points out. He's still smiling, though. Phil can always make him smile. "I am a bit of a shit son."

"You're not, and I know you're not," says Phil. "Because I see how you are with my parents. You've got them wrapped around your finger, y'know."

Warmth spreads through Dan's whole body, making his toes curl and his smile deepen. "Okay. Maybe I'm a shit son and maybe I'm not. Point is, me being, like, successful and happy was the nail in the fucking coffin for them. They couldn't see eye to eye on so much, and he was always - I mean, I don't talk to my dad anymore," he sums up.

"Ever?" Phil asks, and there's the genuine surprise that Dan's been so afraid of. Dan nods. After a moment, Phil makes a humming noise. "You must have a good reason for that, then. And I bet you didn't want to get married the same time your family was falling apart like that, huh?"

Dan breathes out, relief in his lungs and fondness seeping out of his very pores. "I. Yeah. I wasn't sure you'd get that."

"I do understand emotions, you know," Phil teases, kissing Dan's ear. "I'm not a robot."

"You sure?" Dan hums, leaning up to catch Phil's lips for a proper kiss. He taps Phil's lower lip with his finger once he's pulled back. "Mm, yeah, not metal."

"You're so stupid," Phil says. Affection drips off every word. "Tell me more about you, Dan. Real stuff."

And Dan does.

--

Dan wakes up to the smell of maple syrup and coffee, right under his nose. He blinks one of his eyes open, bleary.

"Morning, sunshine," Phil snickers, holding a plate and a mug up for Dan's sleepy inspection. "Made you breakfast. Wanna eat here?"

"Mm," Dan grunts. He rubs his palms over his face and taps his cheeks a bit, trying to wake himself up faster. He sits up with a big yawn and smiles up at Phil. "What'd I do for breakfast in bed?"

"Someone hasn't learned how to read a calendar," says Phil. He puts Dan's mug on his bedside table and hands him the plate.

"Oh," Dan says, his smile growing slowly. "It's that day, is it."

"It's that day," says Phil, dropping a kiss to the top of Dan's head. He's smiling back at Dan, his eyes crinkling with the lines that Dan loves seeing, no matter how Phil feels about them now. "I gotta go get my own waffles, I didn't wanna try and juggle."

"Probably smart of you."

"Yeah. I'll be right back, babe." Another kiss, this one to Dan's dimple.

Dimple obsession. Pet names. Wanting to be romantic. These are the things that Dan hopes will keep, if Phil is ever miraculously the same person he was Before.

Dan waits for Phil to climb into bed with him before he starts eating. He tells Phil all about it, the day that changed their lives a whole decade ago, while they sip their coffee and press their syrupy lips together.

It's a really, really, really good day.

[letters-from-the-three-houses]

I IMPLORE YOU FOR THAT CLAUDE/ANNETTE ESSAY! P-Please senpai~ uwu

*kicks down door* IS THAT SOMEONE ASKING FOR THE CLAUNETTE ESSAY I SEE??

WELL THEN, LET’S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD

warning: this is long. this is really, really long. like 3.5k words long. i don’t have a proper tl;dr for it because there’s too much going on, so it’s fine if you don’t want to read it! it just talks about why i think claude and annette click super well together

edit: aaaand the read more doesn’t work again;; yikes i’m so sorry about all these long posts, everyone!

edit2: read more works again!! it’s now under the cut

first, we’ll take a look at their profiles as a refresher (many thanks to vincent and the serenes gang!)

annette’s japanese profile talks about how she’s chipper, diligent, and very smart. she seems sweet and friendly, thanking byleth for their advice and calling mercedes by a cute nickname. plus, she’s lively and energetic because she speaks with a lot of exclamation marks!

“she can often waste her energy and end up nowhere” comes from karamawari (空回り), which loosely translates to the idiom “spinning one’s wheels”. in other words, she’s a genius oddball. i don’t think it’s in the sense that she’s ditzy and all over the place so she makes mistakes all the time, but that she’s wickedly creative and her ideas fail because they’re so left-field. like she thinks so far out of the box that she ends up in a completely different neighbourhood

the uk one (here) says she has “a reputation for being a bit oblivious at times”. it’s…pretty vague bc we don’t know what exactly she’s oblivious to, but it implies that she either a) has a one-tracked mind, b) can’t read the room, c) is unaware of herself, d) comes up with weird conclusions, or e) all of the above

i also think she’s pretty transparent, if this exaggerated expression of hers is any indication that she wears her heart on her sleeve

now onto claude! he’s also nice!! fun, easygoing, and always equipped with a smile. but, as i always like to call him, he’s a smart cookie and is very cunning! it’s hard to say if “someone unable to trust” means he has a hard time trusting others or if others shouldn’t trust him, but either way, it seems apt to call him crafty, clever, and ingenious. his uk profile (here) also mentions that “he sometimes shows a side that you can’t let your guard down around”. a lot of his quotes thus far make him sound carefree and witty (“my family’s the head of the leicester alliance, but eh, no need to worry about that"—thanks for the translation, satsuma!—and the class reunion bit in the latest e3 trailer), which supports his personality quite nicely

at first glance, they have a lot of similarities. they’re both outgoing, peppy, and smart. so they’re not really an ‘opposites attract’ pair, but birds of a feather do flock together. their friendly personalities make it much more likely for them to interact despite being in different houses, and it would surely help them get along. i can imagine them greeting each other as they pass by the hallways it also means i don’t have to make up a contrived situation of how these two meet because as much as i’d love to come up with a case for bernadetta/dedue, they would probably never talk to each other unless they have to

so it looks like they can be friends! or at least, cordial acquaintances. their personalities don’t clash too violently that they would hate each other, which is the fundamental basis of every good relationship

but then why do i think they’d be good for each other?? why can’t i just say it’s a nice broship and call it a day?? why do i feel the need to make this my game otp (and it’s slowly inching there) despite the high chance that they won’t have supports together?????

to answer that question, we’ll have to delve into the few opposites that they do have:

annette’s oddball-ness + claude’s intuition

let’s be real here, claude could probably cold read you like a pro. one glance is all he needs to get a sense of who you are, what you’re thinking, and what you’re going to do. this would be especially obvious with consistent, rational people like edelgard or dimitri; he can predict their moves because they’re meticulous and routine-based folks

annette, on the other hand, is a curveball

now don’t get me wrong—her thoughts are easy. her emotions? child’s play. the real question is what she’s going to do

…because what is she doing?

he’d be able to get a sense of what she’s planning, sure, but annette is weird. and unexpected. and unconventional

her actions aren’t going to be surprising; after all, it’s clear to see what she’s thinking. for example, if she somehow broke ingrid’s favourite teacup, the guilt would be obvious to anyone around. the shifty eyes, the shuffling of her feet, the panic that sets in once she sees ingrid in the distance. what would she do about it? probably fix it. she’s a nice girl who doesn’t want her friends to be sad. reasonably, she might try to piece the broken bits together or buy something from town that looks similar

so when he catches her asking around if there’s anyone who could teach her the art of glassmaking, he almost bursts out laughing and gives away his hiding spot

he lets his presence be known anyway because this looks hilarious

when he walks into the room, annette—and byleth, who she’d been talking with—gives him a surprised look, but he holds his hands up in defense and says he’s here to help

byleth will try to get him to convince her not to make the teacup herself

annette will insist she has to do it in order to make up for her mistakes

and if claude asks why she believes she has to—to show her full sincerity? was the teacup that unique? does she want to learn because it seems fun?—she’ll tilt her head and say, “if i learn how to do it, then i won’t have to bother anyone if i break ingrid’s cups again”

that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but that makes it all the more amusing bc he was wrong (plus, she fully expects herself to break the cups a second time instead of being more careful in the future?? annette why—)

and while her failed attempts in glassmaking are also pretty funny, watching her do her best despite the setbacks is a bit endearing

this goes on constantly—annette getting into trouble and claude being entertained by her antics. in other words, claude would think she’s fun to be around because he can never truly guess what’s going on in annette’s head (he’ll get better at it eventually, but she’ll still catch him off guard every so often and keep him on his toes), and annette faces a dilemma like every other day so there’s no shortage of good times when he’s with her

on the other hand, annette would appreciate having a translator. she already has one in mercie, but another one wouldn’t hurt! especially since mercedes is more of the encouraging type while claude just seems to know what she’s trying to say

she’ll flounder about, trying to explain whatever ‘thing’ she’s describing this time because her words run quicker than her thoughts

“magical overuse makes me keel over because it feels like i can’t breathe anymore and the pain just concentrates at your core and i don’t know the term but i know i know it because it’s on the tip of my tongue and—”

mercie will say, “take a deep breath, ann. parse it slowly”

and claude chips in to help: “it’s like a punch to the gut”

“yes!! that!!!”

so while mercie is patient with her weirdness, claude always seems to know the right thing to say and do, making conversations with him much more smoother than with most people

she makes a vague statement like “it was pretty good today. i kinda wonder how they did it”

and without missing a beat, he’ll reply, “you mean the meatloaf we had for dinner? yeah, i thought dorothea and professor did a great job. you should ask them for the recipe”

“i should! great idea”

he still gets it wrong a lot of the time though

“he’s really prickly,” annette will say. “i wonder if he hates me”

“felix?”

“oh! no, no, i was talking about the cat that hangs around near the gardens. but what you said is true too. do you think he does?”

“the cat—no, he’s like that to everyone. felix—maybe. the stableboy who ignored you just now as you tried to wave at him—he didn’t notice so don’t feel bad about it”

other people listening in will get lost about thirty seconds into the conversation because it feels all over the place and random, but mercie is delighted that there’s someone else that understands annette

so yay! now they seem like good friends instead of having a casual ‘hey, i know you. i see you around sometimes’ relationship, which we can only keep building up the more they get to know each other!

their levels of trust

okay, i know this sounds cheesy but hear me out

we’ve already established that annette looks like a bad liar. the type that’s diddly darn horrible at poker. when she’s happy, you can tell she’s happy. sad? sad. angry? well, she isn’t angry often but you get the idea

so if something is troubling her, it’ll show on her face

and claude, being the curious boy he is, will ask her what’s wrong

her eyes will widen and she’ll say, “was it that obvious??”, but she won’t actually need any prompting and tells him her problems right away bc a) “i can’t hide anything from you”, b) “you give great advice”, and c) “you really get me!”

the last one’s important

you see, claude gets everyone. he doesn’t even have to ask what’s wrong—he probably already knows. but he asks anyway because you can’t have a conversation without two people talking (and maybe he could glean some more information about it that he isn’t aware of, who knows)

however, from the get go, sweet little annette was always truthful. was always sincere. she’s not the type who’ll say “i’m okay”, all the while plastering a fake smile on their face. annette is consistent. what she says she’s feeling is the same as what her expressions show

in other words, she doesn’t hide secrets. that’s what makes her special

claude is an expert in secrets. he snuffs them out in others so he can figure out their real intentions, and he hides some secrets himself. annette though? annette’s genuine. it’s straightforward with her

if it’s like this, it doesn’t even matter what the “someone unable to trust” in claude’s profile means. distrust doesn’t exist when he’s with annette. she’s unambiguous. she isn’t two-faced. there’s no need for him to figure out the underlying meaning in her words because there are none. and claude, for all intents and purposes, has the confidence that he can trust her even if he doesn’t

her guard when she’s around him is down

he doesn’t have to wonder if she’s trying to gain his favour or wants something in return. annette doesn’t want any of that. she just talks because claude asked her a question and she wants to answer it

she hangs out with him just because she likes to hang out with him

she’s his friend just because she wants to be

she has no ulterior motives

for claude, it’s a breath of fresh air

on annette’s side, it’s hard to pry about claude’s private life. whenever he asks, he gives her a vague answer and deflects it with a question. he never lies to her, but he never tells her the full truth

if she says she’s not curious about it, she’d be lying (and claude would know; he’d see it in her eyes). so whenever he avoids the question, she’ll be a bit dejected, but she won’t pry and move on to something else. they never linger on the subject too long

the curiosity is still there though. whenever he gives the slightest hint of any of his preferences (“i think the orange flowers suit your hair”), she perks up and smiles. she never asks him to divulge any more than he wants to because she’s not going to force him to overshare, so the little things that she does find out makes her happy enough. there’s no need to know his backstory—she trusts him now. as long as she does, whatever happened in his past or history won’t change who he is

after all, claude doesn’t lie to her. sure he’s not entirely honest, but she knows that whatever he says comes from the heart—even if it withholds quite a lot of information

here, at this point, annette is really good for claude. she makes him feel simple. like he doesn’t have to hide anything. it’s a rather nice feeling

but currently, the dynamics in their relationship are skewed, with annette giving more than she takes. claude doesn’t reciprocate the trust and continues to keep his cards close, while annette lays them all on the table. the only way their relationship can reach an equilibrium is if claude becomes honest with annette

i think in any claude relationship, that’s the end point: claude being honest. and not in the way that he already is—that is, his vague but truthful answers—but that he can say what he hasn’t

i remember there was one theory that claude’s character arc involves him learning to trust people. can annette get him to do this? i think so! she only wants what’s best for her friends so she wouldn’t force claude to tell her anything he doesn’t want to. she’ll still be there for him, talking and listening and having fun together until he’s ready. the question then becomes: would he ever be willing to tell her?

claude works hard but annette works harder

i do have a basis for why i think annette can somehow get over claude’s high trust hurdle, and that’s her perseverance

despite her constant mishaps and misfortunes, annette still passed the mage academy with excellent grades. why? because she never gave up. because despite the setbacks, she continued to try and try and try. and yay! her hard work paid off!

if we translate that to her relationships, it means she’d never give up on her friends. even if they try to push her away, try to make her hate them, try to stop being her friend—she won’t

so no matter what claude does, she’ll stick by his side. he’s not getting rid of her, that’s for sure. if he refuses to tell her everything—if he never tells her at all—annette will still be there, being annette, and being on his side even if he doesn’t trust her as much as she trusts him

i can see that faith of hers eventually wearing down his defenses. it’s just so freeing being with her; claude doesn’t have to pretend

and it becomes a nice conclusion to his character arc. he doesn’t bury the hatchet, doesn’t hide his skeletons in the closet. he gets catharsis and closure, and during all of his confessions, annette holds his hand and listens intently. she doesn’t run away afterwards. she doesn’t shy away from disgust

all she says is: “can i hug you?”

and when she does, it’s like all of his worries melt away

once this is all said and done, claude becomes much, much more open with her. he tells her everything and doesn’t have to fear being judged for it. like this, their relationship becomes balanced again

claude becomes good for her because he helps her improve herself. he doesn’t limit her weird thinking—in fact, he encourages it. by supporting her in all of her endeavours and being able to understand it, making sure her ideas run smoothly, he allows annette to discover even more ingenious solutions and lets her creativity have free rein. they’d be really good partners on a research team; annette comes up with the plans/a new scope to focus their field of study on as well as doing the literature search and reading up on a lot of journals in order to synthesize new ideas, claude irons them out and implements them all the while checking up on annette to make sure if she’s got any new input, rinse, repeat, they get an a+ on their graduate thesis

so here are my final remarks! this pairing doesn’t even have to be romantic to me (i just like romance because i’m a weakling). they just mesh together perfectly that i think they’re soul mates—if they have each other in their lives, they can develop themselves to new heights and eventually reach self-actualization. i don’t know?? i just think they cover each others strengths and weaknesses so well that they’ll be…happy with each other. and if they’re happy, i’m happy

to end off this post with a bang, here are some claunette au fic ideas i have for the soul:

'help i’m in love with my next door neighbour because whenever i take out the trash they’re there as well and they have the prettiest smile so i can’t help but swoon every time i see them but whenever i tell everyone that my favourite day is garbage day they look at me weirdly and they just don’t understand’ au

'you lost your dog and found him running around me in circles and apologized profusely but when you tried to get him to leave he whined and sat on my feet and i don’t know why but i think he likes me??’ au

'you left your usb plugged into one of the computers in the library and i was looking through some of the documents to find out your personal information and i realized that you took a class that i previously did and your ta is the same stupid one that marked mine way too low so when i came to give it back to you i offered to tutor you for free so i could be avenged’ au

'out of the one hundred and fifty students in this course you were the only one that bothered to answer my desperate plea of needing lecture notes on the classroom discussion board so thank you i owe you my life can i buy you a coffee?’ au

'you’re the barista of some cafe that i frequently go to and i have a crush on you because you’re super cute so my friends are embarrassing me by asking you all sorts of personal questions and i don’t know what to think about you flirting with me over the counter whenever i order cheesecake’ au

'i got lost from my tour group while sightseeing but you seem like a nice and friendly native so do you mind if i tag along with you to visit the nooks and crannies of the city while i wait for my friends to come get me?’ au

'i have to get off the bus because it’s my stop but you’re sleeping on my shoulder right now even though i don’t know who you are so i’m not sure if i should wake you up or just keep letting you sleep and—welp, there goes my house i guess i’ll just get off at the terminal station’ au

'i’m a human being hunted down by an elder vampire for who knows what and you just so happen to be a vampire hunter so please let me stay with you i don’t want to die’ au

'i’m a magician that has to fill their daily curse quota of the year and you just so happened to stumble into my line of sight in my time of need but i don’t want to curse you because you seem really nice but my job is on the line here so i’m sorry but i’ll find your true love so you can stop being a frog’ au

[the-canary]

Irreplaceable - B.B (Epilogue)

Summary:  It’s not even about not noticing what’s in front of you. At this point, it was plain idiocy on both your parts. (Modern/Childhood AU!Reader/Bucky Barnes).

Prompt: “You know that feeling when you’re not your favourite person’s favourite person, and it kind of feels like you’re constantly swallowing sand?”  

A/N: This is for @writingcroissant 2k writing challenge. It was hard as hell to write a balance between loving someone but still trying to be friends/relearn who they are, but I hope it came out well. These events take place in a linear fashion, however their distance from each other is up for you to decide. Please enjoy the epilogue! 

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2

Feedback is always welcomed.

Two weeks, Bucky realizes that he has been in loved with a concept, an idea of someone that used to do everything that he wanted in the summer if he pushed her hard enough to. The you of today doesn’t live in that box he molded out of old childhood daydreams and the potential “what-if” he constantly dreamed of.

In two weeks, he realizes that you and the ideal aren’t the same in anyway. You’re so much more than that, and it takes him a good long while afterwards to come to terms with that.

You run your family’s business all on your own, leading its expansion in careful measurements after so many years stateside. You are a dear friend with your own share of crazy adventures that Sam can recall with perfect clarity, much to your annoyance and Bucky’s temporary anger. You’re a great daughter and are involved in so many things back on the West Coast it makes his head spin. However, in some ways you haven’t changed -- you still prefer to stay home and watch old movies than party with the younger Barnes sisters, much to his joy as he comes over during the time you’re there -- baby steps.

But even in those little moments, he can see that you’re stubborn and opinionated, preferring to run to the beat of your drums than anyone else’s anymore. And for a brief instant, James Buchanan Barnes mourns the old you –his childhood friend and the what-if– but he’s even more excited to learn all about this beautiful new version of you.

It’s funny, what had taken you two years to realize had only taken him two weeks.

However, after everything is said and done Bucky Barnes is a weak man that misses those timid smiles and cautious words given to him a month ago, and even though there is calling and texting -- it’s isn’t enough to what he had back in Shelbyville. So, he books a flight for Los Angeles when the Labor Day weekend comes -- he is aware of the uneasiness in your voice, but you let him come anyways.

Downtown Los Angeles isn’t the same as Indianapolis, closer to New York than he has been in a long time. He isn’t as tired as he should be from the four-hour flight, so after getting himself set up in his hotel room he decides to go to your office -- surprise you a bit earlier than intended. It’s a quick walk from where he is staying to your office anyways.

Said office is small with it only occupying one floor of the high tower that it is placed it. At max, James sees a fifteen people working at the moment, but he has to remind himself that your company had satellite offices in different states aside from trying to expands to other countries now. It’s crazy how you can handle all this, he can barely handle moving from Indianapolis to New York when he is needed there, but somehow if anybody could do all this and more -- it would be you.

The receptionist is quick enough to show him where your office is and James swears he is struck breathless for a moment as he sees you standing next to the large windows. The hazy afternoon sun giving you a certain glow, as he can barely understand the language you are speaking to the person on the other line. The receptionist leaves, but he’s still standing there for a good while until your phone call ends and you’re --so elegant in a navy blouse and black skirt-- asking what is he doing here with a cautious look in your eyes.       

“I was thinking we could hang out tonight,” James admits bashfully as you give him an exasperated smile, unsure of what to say for a moment.      

“I can’t do tonight,” you state as his heart drops, but then jumps like a kid on Christmas day over your next statement, “But, I am yours until Tuesday.”

“I can do that,” James nods, trying not to be too obvious about his excitement, though he can’t help but ask,  “What do you have planned for tonight?”

“Business dinner with Tony Stark,” you state, falling into old habits of when Tony was still the CEO, before correcting yourself, “And Mrs. Potts-Stark.”

“Wait, wait! You know the Tony Stark?”

“Trust me, sometimes I wish I didn’t,” you can’t but reminisce on how your disastrous friendship --getting too drunk after a tech conference and throwing up on his suit-- with the older man started, as James waits for an answer.   

Blue eyes watch as your lips quirk up at what seems to be a memory before laughing. You tell him to sit down and proceed to tell him of the horrible first impression you  had made to Tony Stark when you were just an undergraduate and how it proceeded from there.

You make it a point not to spend more than one day alone with James.

It’s too easy to fall into the deluded fantasies that your head and heart after years of desperation could come up with, and how well he could fall into them as well -- it caused you to guard your heart tightly, least you move far and set yourself up for heartbreak once more. It had happened at least twice back in Shelbyville, but you weren’t looking for that with him. You wanted to heal and learn who this new James was. Thus, the small rule you had set up for yourself -- Saturday was completely for him, taking him around all the places that you loved within the place you called home now.

The Getty. Santa Monica. Place you know like back of your hand and James welcomes with amazement.

“Reminds me of Coney Island,” he says with a smile while sitting on the ferris wheel, while looking down at the Pacific Ocean as you keep a tight smile from the other side -- you’ll never get that close again.

Sunday was for everyone else, as you invited friends and business partners to celebrate Labor Day in your home. You’re running around, making sure everything is running smoothly while trying to connect with friends and old business partners. With everything that you were doing, you didn’t notice a pair of blue eyes watching your every move like a love struck puppy -- your friendly demeanor and easygoing smiles, something that he wishes were being thrown his way.

“You should throw him a bone, sweetheart,” Sam can’t help but laugh, as he drags you away for moment. You frown as he motions to a certain man trying his hardest to make it seem like he isn’t looking in your direction.

“You know I can’t do that,” you state harshly and quickly run away from discussing this any further when someone -Tony, it’s always been Tony- starts calling out your name from the back of the small garden you own.

“Bunch of fools,” Sam can’t help but shake his head, as he glances at his girlfriend who can only nod at what she knows Sam is thinking, though Nat understands your line of thinking a bit better.

You’re just trying to protect your heart from the pain that was sure to come out of all this and James was just trying his hardest to prove he wasn’t the same rash child of his youth -- the both of you needed to see this through first before anything else could move forward.   

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and maybe that’s what happens as you stop seeing James for a good while -- his workload catching up to him, long with other things that came with being an adult, as the two of you just can’t seem to find the time to meet up anymore. However, there is always text and phone calls and man, does James try his hardest to keep in touch through those means.

You know it’s him when the clock strikes 10pm.  

“Hey, what’s up?” you speak softly when you hear James’ haggard breathing.

You know it going to be one of those nights, where Bucky just can’t sleep and you’ll be running on barely 2 hours of sleep.

“Same old, same old,” he lets out with a self-deprecating laugh, as he hears you let out a low hum. He almost wants to hang up, but you beat him to it  by asking him how his day was -- make him go through the whole thing in great detail as a distraction.

Bucky doesn’t know when it starts: waking up from his infrequent nightmares turned into calling you in the middle of the night, but it’s usually followed by the best sleep that he’s gotten in the very long time. And maybe because it is the middle of the night or simply because it’s you on the other side of the phone -- Bucky lets his defenses fall just a bit. He talks about his day, his time in the Army, he hopelessly murmurs his hopes and dreams to you -- and when he has the right timing, you’ll answer him back with yours as well.

It last until 2am your time, as sleep slowly starts to claim Bucky, though with promises of something much sweeter this time around. He tells you he’s going to sleep now, as you let out a yawn.

“Thank you, I l--” Bucky in his sleepy haze manages to stop himself from uttering those three words, though his heart aches when you sigh.

“I know, I know,” you mutter hopelessly back but never give him the response he is longing for, “Goodnight, Bucky .”

Your side of the phone clicks signaling the end of the call, but James keeps staring at his dark ceiling for a while longer. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was definitely a step towards the right direction.

And if Bucky has a goofy, lovestruck on his face for the next couple of days -- nobody dares to tell him.  

James isn’t sure how a night out to get a few drinks with Steve, Peggy, and Nat turned into making fun of the current state of emotions -- all because you were on a date, with someone that clearly wasn’t him, back in Los Angeles.

“I’ve never seen him this mopey before,” James glares at his best friend as Nat shakes her head.

“I’ve seen worse,” is all she answers back with because she and Sam have been through the thick of it with both of you in different ways since the wedding.

James chugs his beer at the thought of seeing you in that dark dress you had sent Nat, who proceeded to show it off to everyone else that had gathered in the bar that night. Because even though the two of you you were sort of friends and sort of something else that didn’t stop you from going out on dinner dates that your other friends and business partners set you up on.

People wanted you to be happy, just like they were, and while you took it with stride and a wisecrack here and there, it was killing him slowly. What if you found someone that complimented you in every single way. What if you finally fell out of whatever it was you had with him? James  didn’t want to lose you, but he didn’t want to suffocate you with his emotions either -- James knew how distant you could be when the need arose for it. Thus, he was stuck in this hurtful limbo.

“You could always go on a date too, James,” Peggy tries to add on as an incentive, like the old Bucky Barnes used to go around and run after any pretty thing that batted their eyelashes at him.  It’s was one night thing or a casual thing that lasted a few dates, but never nothing of substance.

He was slowly coming to realize that with the time he spent with you, the possibility of years of daydreams finally turning into a reality that he couldn’t go back to that type of lifestyle. This was a lifetime sort of thing, like what Steve and Peggy had, like what he saw growing between Nat and Sam.

After all the years apart, after all the damage he had done to you and the relationship you two shared -- he deserved to live with the detachment and silence you couldn’t help but show him sometimes, but he knew it was melting -- the small changes were there...in the fleeting smiles, in the honest laughter, in the talks you had that could last for hours.

“I don’t think I could--” James starts off with a shaky breath, as everyone’s eyes widen at what he might say -- what he is declaring in front of all of them.

However, he is stopped by an all too familiar Nutcracker suite ringtone as Nat picks up her phone.

“ Message: Date ended horrible, call me!” Nat exclaims to everyone as James perks up for just a moment, looking at the redhead with bright eyes, but if he thinks that she is going to call you right then and there -- well, that’s a completely different story.

“Later, lover boy,” is all the redhead says before leaving, a secret smile in her face --over things she already knows-- as she pats Bucky’s back. Steve and Peggy start to prepare to head back home as well,  his declaration completely forgotten, though James knows deep down that he meant every word on the tip of his tongue.

He would gladly be a starving man if meant keeping you in his life after all this time.  

It’s by some miracle that the two of you are spending some of the Christmas holiday in New York, what with you having end of the year meetings with investors and James having to attend a conference. Now, it’s his chance to show you his old hunting ground. It takes you a couple of days to figure out when you could meet up, but James hasn’t stopped grinning since this morning when he took you out for brunch and showed you around the city, though mainly around Brooklyn.

Now, here you here -- on your way to Steve and Peggy’s townhouse to celebrate Christmas with them. However, you were treating it more like a business transaction and had gotten a heap of presents for the people that you knew were coming and the Rogers-Carter children as well, which meant that you and James were carrying four bags full of presents.

“Is all this really necessary?” he can’t help but ask, as the two of you are waiting on the steps for somebody to open the door.

“My parents used to do it all the time,” you explain, thinking back to all those holidays  parties you spent on the West Coast, “Have to make a good first impression.”

“You’re gonna spoil those girls,” Bucky can’t help but remark on the three girls that were used to calling him Uncle, though he can’t help but also think that this is the first holiday that you have really spent together -- back as children, one of you was usually away on trips with your family. With the variety of presents, your festive sweater, and your wide eyes over the decorations outside the home. He just knew you had a soft spot for the holiday. He’s about to say something, but it is stopped when the door opens.

“Uncle James!” a small girl, brown hair with blue eyes who looks around 8 years old, as Bucky yells out Lily.

“You have to forgive her,” Peggy comes into to the picture from behind the door with a smile, “They’re are each other’s favorite.”

“It’s good to see you again, Margaret ,” you nod, as Lily tries to get James to hug her though it isn’t quite possible until he has put all the bags down, which Peggy tries to get her daughter to understand, though the Rogers stubbornness is strong in her.  

Eventually, Lily does get her hug from Uncle James as you are introduced to the three girls that make up the household -- Sarah, Michelle, and Lily-- all a mix of their parents with dark hair but light-colored eyes. For most of the night you are pushed between meeting business associates, helping Peggy, and spending time with Michelle, who has taken a shine to you. It isn’t until close to midnight that you finally allowed a chance to breathe and sit on the couch next to James, as he gives you a shy smile.

“Tired?” he laughs, as you nod while watching the people that are still left exchanging gifts with one another. You’re too lost in the scene to notice that he has placed a long, slim box in front of you that is until you hear something jingle inside.

“You didn’t have you,” you say softly, as he places the box in your hand.

“But, I wanted to,” is all he has to say, as he waits for you to open it, which you do rather eagerly. A daisy linked charm bracelet in all its glory lined up against the black cushion. You give him a smile full of appreciation, as you place the bracelet on your wrist.

You get up for a moment and come back with a medium sized box and hand it to him, “Merry Christmas, James.”  

“Merry Christmas,” he breathes, as he watches you glow underneath the Christmas lights. James proceeds to grab and open his own gift, only for his eyes to widen as he gives you a dubious look due o the item in the box.

“Really?” is all he can manage to say, as he lifts up the bear with a sweater that says Winter Boo Bear as  his head moves back with laughter.

You laugh and slide to James’ right side on the couch as you watch the kids and your other friends signing carols throughout the evening.

It’s springtime when James realizes he hates the season.

It is around the time you left, even now he can’t see you due to all the international traveling you do during this time. He doesn’t want to push you, force you to answer all the texts and calls he wants to send you when you might be working or too tired to answer.

It’s then when he hears the ringing of his cell phone, a huge grin on his face as Steve groans at his best friend’s lovesick state.

Hey, hey, what do you think of this cake?

He didn’t know, you also hated the springtime too.

It’s summer in Shelbyville when you have time to visit once more, though all the activities you had planned in terms of business and travel are pushed back due to your father’s weakening health. It was a scary time for both you and your mother, and as their only child --regardless of your past and how your relationship fluctuated at times-- you needed to be there for them. You stayed through the doctor’s visits and eventually hospitalization, but your father had always been a stubborn man and even in his weakening state always asked what you were doing about the business at hand.

All day watching over them in some way and all night working through all the work that you had been missing was wreaking you in all sorts of  ways.

And maybe, James knew that from the string of late night calls and endless, frustrated texts.

That’s when James gets an idea and decides to head back home --to Shelbyville-- from Indianapolis for the weekend. He keeps it a secret on the Friday he gets there until he gets permission from a smiling George Barnes to use the old blue truck that he used to own back in high school. He asks your mother to make sure you are dressed and prepared on Sunday morning, much to her excitement.

He’s standing on your porch that Sunday morning, while he can hear your mother fussing on the other side of the door that you need to get out and have sometime for yourself, much to your distress. The door opens and you are pushed out, only to be meet with a smiling Bucky.

“Morning,” he declares brightly, while grasping your hand as you are still trying to figure what is going on.

“Bucky,” you gasp out, as he freezes halfway to the truck since you don’t use his nickname often which always causes a pleasant shiver to run down his spine, as he grins, “Where are you taking me exactly?”

“ Everywhere ,” is how he explains it before getting on the driver’s side of the truck and staring down the familiar road.

James stays true to his word and takes you to all your favorite places. You eat lunch at Stan’s Diner. You go to the bookstore and spend more of the early afternoon in the arcade, as you and James fight through the various games, and he wins you small trinkets and plush toys with his skills, only for you to move down the block and watch a late afternoon movie at the local theater. There’s a huge grin on your face the whole day and James couldn’t be prouder of himself.

The sun is slowly sinking into the hazy evening sky, as James takes you to the edge of town though you aren’t sure where he is taking you since you usually stayed within the limits of Shelbyville. You look at him with a questioning look, as James keeps his eyes on the road.

“Where are we going now?” you ask.

“One of my favorite places,” James answers vaguely, as you frown -- just a little weary because you were still too cautious when it came to the past.  

It’s a fifteen minute drive to where the woods are thicker and after you get out of the truck, it’s another ten-minute walk -- that’s when you stop and gasp at the area.

It’s a large meadow that leads to one of the small lakes where the kids love to swim in, though it was empty for this time of day. The tall grass and large pink flowers blend in beautifully with the oranges, pinks, and purples of the setting sun and you can’t help but take a deep breath of the fresh air.

It’s a beautiful sight and you are left in momentary shock. Years of living in the area and you had never seen this place before. It was daunting as it was beautiful.

“I always regretted not showing you this place,” James states as you turn to look at him with great appreciation, “Even, if it’s not the best of times -- it’s always here of you-- I am too, ya know. Always. ”   

“Thank you, James,”  the sincerity and caring tone of his words sending a flood of gratitude and a million other emotions running through your body and fill your heart with a warmth that you hadn’t felt --hadn’t been willing to accept-- in a very long time.  

The sun is golden, as the lake shines beautifully to match its radiance. You glance out of the corner of your eye to see James standing there with the most serene expression you have ever seen on his face.

Your heart stops, as your breath hitches.

Maybe, this is the moment when you truly fall in love with James Buchanan Barnes all over again.

[poisonappletales]

What are your favorite traits in each of your characters?~

Hello, fearofprayer! Ooh, let’s see…this should be fun. Of course, I’m going to keep my answers spoiler-free. But whenever Beauty and the War (X Playing Pieces) is released, please feel free to ask again if you’d like to know about those.

Now then, this will include my thoughts on all my characters - the cast of Don’t Take This Risk being among them. I’m going to give you the short summarized answer first, followed by a wordier explanation telling you what I think in detail.Shall we begin?

Arsenik of the Hulder

Favorite Traits: Intelligence, style of speech, his hobby of writing

One of my favorite traits is that he speaks in that intellectual, old-fashioned style. It lets me use that older style of writing that you see in classical literature, whether it’s Jane Austen or Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Plus, he has a hobby of writing, so it gives me a chance to write things like poems.

You might say I like the opportunities he gives me for writing myself! On a related note, he enjoys reading just as I do, but I wouldn’t call that a trait I prefer/like in a character. It honestly doesn’t matter to me if a character has similar hobbies to me or not.

Why am I mentioning this? I just thought it’d be something you’d like to know, particularly since it’s common for “writers” and “reading” to go together. If he were to discuss books with someone, that would be easy to write since I enjoy doing so as well! However, his opinions are not necessarily the same as mine.

Anyway, what I like most about him is his style of talking, his intelligence and his writing inclinations.

For those who aren’t a fan of him, a common reason would be that they find his sort of character to be “boring.” I just want to note that I’m not offended by any of those kinds of opinions. Like and dislike whichever character you want! It’s your prerogative. I’m glad if my cast feels like actual people you can form opinions about when you meet them.

But yeah, I do know a lot of people who find things like the classic books boring, so if you personally aren’t fond of his speech, that’s totally understandable. Or just, you know, the do-gooder character you see in shows.  Though, something you may not realize is that he sounds a little more stilted/formal when he’s around his beloved…

(Again, that’s not a trait of his that I would call a “favorite” of mine. It’s just there and a part of his character that feels fitting for him. His shyness/awkwardness is just something I thought I’d bring to your attention in case you missed it in the demo!)

Oh, and a bonus trait I like about him (or the Hulder in general) relates to what’s been said about his clan: “They’re only gentlemen during the day.”

Chase of the Trold

Favorite Traits: How he rounds out the cast and what he represents

Ah, Chase. Two things I like about him: 1) He rounds out the cast well. 2) His relationship with Ambrosia (should you choose to put these two together) has a nice meaning behind it.

What do I mean by “nice meaning”? Well, does anyone remember this Chase/Ambrosia piece I wrote a while back? Chase is not considered conventionally attractive, but Ambrosia doesn’t subscribe to the masses, to say the least. She’s not superficial and considers beauty to be in the eye of the beholder.

He’s a character that represents those principles.

Going back to my first point, it’s not too difficult to see how he rounds out the cast. He’s the most “average guy” of the group.  I have heard a lot of players like him for that reason (heart of gold and a nice guy who’s easy to get along with). He also has a few people who dislike him for…a certain “temper” scene in the demo. Those of you who came across it probably know what I’m talking about here!

He has his strengths and weaknesses. I know I definitely wanted to make him as much a “real boy” as possible, so to speak. Hate him or love him, it’s your call!

Wind of the Imugi

Favorite Traits: Cool, tough barbarian fighter

Your resident tsundere (the hot-cold jerky type), even if he isn’t your textbook classic example. I don’t like to do stereotypes straight-out, so you can’t expect my characters to follow any of those archetypes to a T.

I’m not generally a fan of tsunderes. I don’t mind them in shows, and I think that the cast needs their spice at times. They can create fun situations. It’s just not going to be a favorite of mine (not typically at least - there are always exceptions).

So, what do I like about Wind? He’s cool and tough and isn’t scared of slicing through flesh with those claws of his. I feel like I just picked him to play in a video game selection screen. You could say that’s what I like about him. I would enjoy playing him in a video game for a time.

“What kind of description is that?”

Oh, and if a fan dislikes him, it’s usually because he can be a jerk. That’s it.

Night of the Vi

Favorite Traits: Attitude and armor

Not that much is known about this guy yet, huh?

I’ll just tell you that my favorite traits about him is his cool attitude and that wicked black armor. I called Wind cool as well, but Night’s in a different way. He’s more relaxed and adventurous. As for that armor - well, it’s pretty self-explanatory. (Imagine the cosplaying opportunities there.)

If players don’t like him, it’s often because they’re not into his free lifestyle. He’s not looking for something serious straight off the bat and wants to come into a relationship naturally - whenever he feels it. In the meantime, he doesn’t see anything wrong with living it up, inside and outside the bedroom.

Describing it that way, I feel like you can almost see him as something of a James Bond character now…

Onyx of the Vi

Favorite Traits: Talented killing machine

All right, sure. Let’s put these Vi’s in a row, and give Onyx a nice animated gif that I have to polish up some more one day.

There’s actually a whole lot I like about Onyx. While you wouldn’t want to run into him in real life, there’s something awesome about him being a killing machine on the battlefield, wouldn’t you say? A stone-cold killer, daunted by nothing. His skill with a blade is a sight to behold.

A perfect dark warrior.

I’m actually looking forward to drawing and animating more of him fighting, with his blade drawn. Though, in that case…expect blood.

Prince Alexandrite of the Vi

We don’t talk about the prince.

King Barium of the Vi

Favorite Traits: A natural-born leader + cool and collected + some king realism

His easygoing nature, combined with his natural authority, makes him a likable and charismatic king. Those are my favorite traits about him. If he only had one or the other, I may not have necessarily called that my favorite (more so for the trait of being “cool and collected,” which I may or may not find likable on its own).

Plus…his armor’s pretty neat, isn’t it?

He owns a harem, and while that alone does not automatically make me favor a character, I do like how it’s a realistic aspect for a king of certain eras.

Viktor of the Hulder

Favorite Traits: Exciting party-maker with…comedic tendencies

And we’re back to the Hulder! The reign of the Vi is over - I joke, of course.

You know, it’s really funny, but I hear a lot of players say they like this guy for - shall we say - the wrong reasons. That is, for Arsenik reasons. What do I mean? Case in point:

1) They like his shyness. This young man isn’t shy.  I remember talking about it way back here, but yes, Viktor is a far cry from that description. He’s confident, talkative and gregarious. Sure, he blushes and stammers when Ambrosia touches him in the demo, but he’s still rather loud, wouldn’t you say? He makes his emotions very clear! He shows what he’s feeling and thinking a lot.

2) They like that he’s quieter/withdrawn/someone they can take the lead with. This is similar to the other point. This man is loud, sociable and can even be a little charming in how he flirts with Ambrosia in the demo, wouldn’t you say?

If you’re looking for someone sweeter, shyer and reserved, that’s all Arsenik. You want someone with confidence, liveliness and fun? Here’s Viktor!

That said, what do I like about Viktor? Well, he has a true knack for making a situation humorous. Look at any of his conversations, and I bet you’ll see what I mean. Plus, he has that old-fashioned way of speaking that’s always fun to write out. Just keep in mind that Viktor might be raised to speak like a Hulder, but he isn’t someone who would be considered intellectual.

I almost feel like Viktor has more fans than Arsenik does, given what people tell me! Just a reminder - Viktor isn’t an official love interest in Beauty and the War (X Playing Pieces). There is a secret bachelor, but that may or may not be Viktor. However, if you so wish, I do encourage you to pursue him in-game to find out.

Bo-Peep of the Cucuy

Favorite Traits: Bubbly cuteness

Not long after talking about the king, it only makes sense to discuss one of his mistresses!

She’s peppy, bubbly and cute! She may not be the brightest around the block, but that adds to her charm. Some players assume she’s innocent possibly because her voice is, well, childish (and her mannerisms can be as well). But oh no, make no mistake.

This is the king’s woman - a sexy gal with legs for days. That kind of person. She knows more than a few tricks in the bedroom to keep a man satisfied. She’s well-versed in fashion, flirting and make-up (hopefully - she does have the tendency to wear too much herself).

Despite her capacity for sexiness, she altogether feels, as I said, cute, which is what I like about her.

She is due for a bit of a re-design in the future. Just some tweaks to bring out what I had in mind.

Jasmine of the Phoenix

Favorite Traits: Prim girl trying hard to seem older than she really is

I do like Jasmine. She might be the eldest of the Phoenix cousin trio, but she acts more like the middle child.

She seems prim and proper, but she has immature tendencies. (She’s the one who goes “Moooom, she’s picking on me again” or “Stop messing with my things or I’m going to kill you, you little brat!” Just replace “Mom” with “Ambrosia.”)

She can be almost something of a “normal teenage girl,” but I like the contrast between her “prim” side and her “teenage girl” side. She’s also due a re-design again, but she’ll still be pretty.

Ah, and another thing I like about her: that competitive streak of hers. It makes for more amusing scenarios, as you might have seen during the last exciting Valentine skit.

When it comes to “teenage girl” types of characters, they’re usually hit-or-miss with me.  But I happened to make her a kind I could like.

(You might think I made an entire cast of people I enjoy…but I actually do have characters I wouldn’t like if I wasn’t the one who made it.  And it may not be the people you think it is - aside from maybe one of them, which you’ll see later down the list. As a writer, I want a fleshed out cast and story!)

Rosemary of the Phoenix

Favorite Traits: Fun, lively, endearing

If Jasmine is like the middle child, then Rosemary is equivalent to the youngest. She’s loud, fussy and often bursting with opinions, which makes her fun. I like how she livens things up!

I also enjoy her role in the story, as she plays her part well. What that role is in full detail remains to be seen…

Since she’s sensitive about her weight and enjoys eating, I’ve had a few players assume that I’m trying to make her a walking “fat joke,” but that really couldn’t be further from the truth! What I’ve made here is a character.

I’ve got to tell you, I’ve known people with these insecurities. I’ve even had players tell me that they relate to what she’s doing (i.e. airing out complaints, cheating on their diet, etc.). And I think those are all beautiful people.

You are not meant to ridicule Rosemary. That would be Wildfire’s job. She has strengths and flaws like all the rest.

She’s another one of those “average teenage girl” kind of personalities, but as with Jasmine, I like her. She has endearing qualities, and it’s not hard for her to grow on you! At least, in my personal opinion.

Wildfire of the Valkyrie

Favorite Traits: She does her role well

Speaking of Wildfire…

Say “hello” to my least favorite character. Frankly, I wouldn’t even put her on my list of favorites, and usually, I’m naturally fond on my own creation.

I don’t know if this comes as a surprise since I made a whole game featuring her as one of the protagonists (War: 13th Day), but I did say I can write about characters I don’t even like myself. It just depends on the story I want to tell.

I think almost all of us know people who have made your life way harder than it has to be. If not yours, then someone else’s - someone you cared about. You could call them enemies, rivals, bullies, or even monsters depending on the severity.

Wildfire isn’t based off anyone in real life, but she has elements from all those types of terrible people. In the end, she reminds me of them too much to like her. If you do like her yourself, that’s perfectly fine, of course. You can feel whatever you want about my character. She does have a backstory and a personality because I want her to be three-dimensional. In fact, I was a little surprised by how many people do like her from what I’ve heard.

Now, to be fair, I do enjoy a good villain in a series. But she didn’t hit any of the right buttons for me and that’s entirely on purpose. She has a role to play, and it fits her. She’s the mean girl with the tough girl attitude.

If I had to pick something I like about her that’s more defined than “she does her role well”…can I get back to you on that?

Brooks of the Valkyrie

Favorite Traits: Entertaining, dreadlocks

Okay, this is easier. Brooks is just plain fun. Her banter with others is a pleasure to write out. Her dreadlocks are pretty cool, too. 

Did you think I was going to mention “armor” again?Hmm…I wonder if I can cite “banter with her best friend” as a favorite trait of Wildfire’s…

Ambrosia of the Phoenix

Favorite Traits: Gentle, pure, strong of heart

The innocent sweetheart and exotic Snow White beauty of the island. Here’s the heroine of the series, Ambrosia of the Phoenix!

You might have heard me mention this before but one of my favorite archetypes? The yamato nadeshiko (the proper lady). She’s delicate and feminine. A big-sister type and wife material.

She may not be strong physically, but don’t underestimate her steel will! She’s my number one favorite female character.

While she’s not a fighter, you could say she’s strong in the way that a mother or, as I mentioned before, an older sister is. Who takes care of the chores? She does. Who tries to remind the immature ones (i.e. her cousins) about what to do and looks out for them? She does. If you’ve done something wrong, she will straighten you out but with kindness. If someone’s bothering you, she will step in and be there for you.

Now, when it comes to herself? That might be a different story, but that’s her weakness.

She’s also pretty sexy during the Present Day. Not that she can’t be in the First Act.

If a player doesn’t like Ambrosia (the First Act version, I imagine), they usually tell me it’s because they think she’s too “naïve” or “weak.”

Yes, she is naïve - at least, in the first act of Beauty and the War (X Playing Pieces). She’s young, so it isn’t too surprising. Again, that’s your call to make, but personally, I like that sort of character.

As for weak? I said before that she’s not strong physically. Perhaps, being naïve can be a form of weakness or just how much her young heart can love. And she does have her shyness. But I like shy girls too, so I apologize if that isn’t your cup of tea since you’ll be seeing her a lot!

And since we’re talking about her…

Ambrosia F. (Don’t Take This Risk ver.)

Favorite Traits: Same as above? With some differences.

Let’s talk about her Don’t Take This Risk version. She’s pretty much the same person, but there are differences. For one thing, her speech has less old-fashioned wording (something I enjoy doing for her Virgo Island self).

If you haven’t read the webtoon yet, there are spoilers ahead. (So, I do recommend you stop here and check it out if you haven’t yet!)

This Ambrosia is a bully victim, suffering from low self-esteem and cutting issues. Much like her other self, she’s strong of heart and will. She gets part-time jobs after school. She takes care of Grandmother when her cousins are too scared to do so (or too busy with homework/something fun). This is someone strong and independent, even if it doesn’t come with the usual tough, no-nonsense attitude you see with these kinds of women. (But let it not be said that I don’t like those types as well. I can indeed like those, too.)

When Dev offers to help her out financially, Ambrosia refuses because she wants to take care of things herself. She speaks gently but surely - like a mother/big sister again.

As young as she is, she’s sadly optimistic and naïve…but will her encounter with Unknown change her? 

Evie O.

Favorite Traits: Naughtiness, lively

You might recognize white-haired Evie O. from Death Room and the Don’t Take This Risk webtoon!

According to what fans tell me, she’s my most hated character.

For me, I actually don’t dislike her. If I knew her in real life and she did the same shenanigans, I wouldn’t be fond of her, no. But as a fictional character? You remember what I said about liking a good villain, right? She’s one of them.

She’s not a villain of the “Let’s destroy the world!” variety, but she has just enough naughtiness to make the story juicy. In Episode 20, you see a little bit from her perspective at the end. Did anyone catch her hint of insecurity?

She does have more depth than you might think. Of course, once they’ve been explored, you may not like her any more than you already do!

Unknown of Don’t Take This Risk

Favorite Traits: Crazy fun, predatory

This guy is crazy fun. Aren’t a lot of you on the edge of your seat whenever he’s around? Whether you’re looking forward to him or dreading him, he’s a character who knows how to steal the spotlight. He’s certainly a pleasure to write and a proper foil for some!

He’s also someone who a lot of people don’t quite get. Hence, the webtoon. Is it helping any? Do you feel like you understand him better?

Probably not. After all, his name is still…Unknown.

It’s interesting to note that some fans typically don’t like Night for his liberal lifestyle, but then, we get to this guy…then again, some people still fancy Unknown’s a bit reserved in some sense. Just remember: ignore the voice(s) in the game if it’s confusing you; the webcomic captures him perfectly.

Oh, and make sure you don’t do what he does at home. Unknown’s an interesting character to write, to be sure, but I don’t endorse what he does!

X from Prison

“Oi, Crown Ruler, why are you always putting me last? I ought to come first, you know! I’m the star of Beauty and the War, I’m tellin’ you!”

Favorite Traits: Powers, masculinity, snarkiness

I like X. He has good chemistry with (Present Day) Ambrosia. He radiates strength and masculine energy like he’s some kind of Arnold Schwarzenegger. But what I like most would probably be his powers, like his switch between Aries form and Regular.

His snarky remarks are pretty fun, too. You would think I’d mention this about Wind, but I just happen to prefer X’s debatably “friendlier” style. I don’t have anything against Wind’s sarcasm, and in fact, it can charge scenes with a certain kind of momentum that makes it engaging to watch. It’s just not enough to enter “favorite” territory for me.

Hopefully, I haven’t missed anyone there! I didn’t include the Huntsman’s characters (Dev and Dominic) since you asked about favorite traits for mine.

I’m a writer before I’m an artist, so you might notice that when I make a story, I make characters that fit a role. Each actor has their part in the unfolding play, and they must arrive on stage during their scene. Perhaps, individually, they may fall flat to one viewer, but together, the resulting interaction can be phenomenal - pure entertainment.

To say the least, these characters, even the ones I’m not strictly fond of, can become more intriguing when they mix and match with the others. So, that’s something I would like to add that I enjoy for each and every one - their chemistry and interaction with the rest of the cast. (Some more so than others.)

I typically enjoy talking about my characters, so if you have any other questions or if I wasn’t clear about something, please feel free to ask. Were you surprised by anything I had to say? If you have the time, share your thoughts! I love to hear them.

[junionigiri]

Peony Pink and Cherry Blossom Tea Ch 6: Can We Talk

Summary: Things go wrong in the feelings department in the worst way

Relationships: Todoroki Shouto/Uraraka Ochako; past Shindo You/Uraraka Ochako; background Tokage Setsuna/Jirou Kyoka

Rating: T

Warnings/Notes: um. Angst and I’m sorry about that. Pls don’t hate Yui

“Hey there,” someone says from behind her. “That’s… an interesting thing your doing to our weights.”

Uraraka Ochako, fifteen years old, first year student of Ketsubutsu High’s general studies department, looks guiltily from the floating set of weights to the owner of the voice.

Her eyes meet dark hair, all messed up but in a nice way, like he just rolled out of bed. A handsome face with a sharp jaw, a little dirty and scratched from a scuffle. His gym clothes are all soaked with sweat and burnt and torn to shreds at different areas. He smells like he rolled around a barbeque pit, making her wonder what the heck are these hero course students doing, killing themselves in training?

“Oh,” she says in embarrassment, releasing her quirk on the weights all at once. They fall noisily on the concrete floor, making an ugly sound that causes both of them to flinch. “Yeah, sorry. Am I allowed here? If I’m not, can you pretend that this didn’t happen? Sorry, I got bored, and my friends--”

He raises two pretty eyebrows at her, lets one side of his mouth curl up in interest. “You got bored waiting for your friends, so you started floating weights around? Most girls just play on their phones or text, or something,” he says with amusement.

She shrugs and scratches the back of her head. “I would, believe me, but--”

Her phone is an ancient thing with a huge line in the middle of the screen that dies when she uses it for more than fifteen minutes. It’s at ten percent right now, and she left her charger at home, and she really didn’t want to walk the 2 kilometers to her tiny apartment in the darkening city without a working phone.

She doesn’t want to explain the pathetic story of her phone and poverty, though, so she stammers out, “Much more interestin’ usin’ my quirk than playin’ Candy Crush, that’s fer sure.”

He guffaws, and she sees a row of perfect, mesmerizing white teeth. “Well, you’re right about that,” he says. “You’re also right about you not being allowed here. This place is technically for hero course students only.”

She flinches. “Um… okay… so about the pretending part--”

He tilts his head, a smile that’s both playful and devious on his lips. “You asking me to be an accomplice, Ms. General Studies?”

On the surface, that easygoing smile is telling her that it’s okay to say yes. But Ochako finds something a little disconcerting under that facade of his--she knows he’s plotting something under that pretty boy face of his, but what?

She stares dumbly at him, not really sure what to do, until he laughs and breaks the tension. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t see anything,” he tells her with another easy smile. “Just don’t do it again. You might wreck our equipment with that quirk of yours, ya know?”

She feels her ears turn red. “I’m sorry, I just got surprised. I don’t get to practice my quirk as much as you guys,” she says, picking up the weights one by one, floating the heavier ones in the air. She tries to be gentle with the landing, but partial gravity release is hard. When she releases them, the guy has to run and catch them in one hand.

Muscles in his arm bulge as he does. She bites her lower lip.

She isn’t sure if he notices. He pauses a bit, eyebrow raised. “That’s too bad, ‘cos your quirk is cool. If you went to the heroes course, I think we’d work really great together.”

She blushes further. No-one has ever told her that her quirk was anything other than ‘okay’, because while it’s exceedingly simple compared to others, at least it didn’t make her look weird or smell bad. ‘Cool’ isn’t a term she’s ready to hear. “Thank you,” she says, because she isn’t sure what else to say.

The guy steps closer to her. “I’m not just saying it. I’m serious. You don’t look like you believe me.”

She laughs awkwardly and steps back. “I… I didn’t say that.”

“Here, I’ll prove it to you.” Suddenly her hands are in his, and he’s staring right into her eyes and she’s paralyzed.

She hears her heart pounding wildly in her chest, feels the blood rush from her brain to her heart to her cheeks and the sound is so loud she almost doesn’t understand what the boy tells her next.

“Let’s spar. Right here.”

She freezes. Makes a silly face that makes him laugh out loud.

“I’m serious!” he repeats, dragging her to the sparring area with cushions. She stammers all the way there, even when he somehow gets her to pull off her shoes and stand in front of him, arms akimbo. “It’ll be quick. You try to activate the floaty thing on me, and I’ll try to dodge. Promise, I won’t use my quirk against you or knock you out or anything.”

She gives him another ridiculous look, shakes her head. “Are you sure?”

He smiles lazily at her, and positions herself for combat.

With a smirk, she tosses her uniform blazer aside, rolls up her sleeves, gets into position.

It’s a tough seven minutes, but it ends with the over-enthusiastic boy hooting up the ceiling in excitement, and Ochako collapsing on the mat from sheer exhaustion.

She releases the quirk, and he falls, lands on all fours like it’s no trouble. He helps her up with one pull of a strong arm and asks for her name, as if the thought just came to him then.

What a weirdo, she thinks, and tells him her name.

After that fight, life goes on in General Studies. In between struggling with English and chatting with her friends about the cafes they want to visit after school, Ochako doesn’t think much about him, except in quiet moments where she’s alone and she’s free to squeal and smile and roll over in her bed like an idiot.

Two weeks later, she finds a letter in her locker--a messy scrawl asking to meet with her outside. No signature. Her girl friends squeal at the potential confession. She shrinks at the potential threat.

When she gets there, Shindo Yo, as promised, stands there by himself with just his easy smile and his sincerity. “Uraraka-san, I like you,” he says with an intense look in his pretty dark eyes that makes her melt. He takes both hands in hers again, making sure that her finger-pads don’t make either of them float this time. “Please go out with me.”

She manages to say yes, somehow, despite the fireworks going off in her little brain. The happy smile on his face makes her heart feel full. He holds her hand, fingers intertwined, and takes her home.

When they find out the next day, all her friends squeal and ask how the heck did you manage to get the most popular guy in the hero course to look at you? At the risk of admitting violating school policy, she keeps her mouth shut and her smile consistently mysterious. 

Days later, she opens her shoe locker and finds it full of garbage.

 *

 Ochako, strangely enough, misses the unsophisticated, garbage-in-your-locker type of bullying in high school. Because at least then she has a concrete, visual evidence of all the nasty shit going on in those evil little minds of theirs. Plus she can make the garbage float above the bullies and make the icky shit drip over their heads. It’s a satisfying stunt she pulled off once, and paid for with a hard shove against her locker, which didn’t make it any less worth it.

Now that she’s all grown-up there’s nothing as solid as garbage that showed their nasty thoughts in striking clarity. Only whispers and dirty looks that just won’t die down. Only these so-called professionals making her wait for too long when she needs to endorse important things about patients, and then blaming her for her slowness when things happen. Only anonymous comments on her (already locked) social media accounts and on the HGH Facebook pages that make not-so-subtle comments about her spending so much time staring into Doctoroki’s eyes that she makes a lot of mistakes at work.

Her HGH ‘parents’ are enraged, of course. Mina especially is always on the verge of throwing hands at anyone who so much as squints in Ochako’s direction. Eijiro, the more rational parent, has been coaching her to tell the nursing supervisor about the goings-on, but how is she going to do that when one of them told her to keep her relationship from affecting her work?

Also! How can her ‘relationship’ get in the way of work, anyway, when there isn’t much happening in that area? Sure, they make enough public appearances (lunch in the very middle of the cafeteria, facing each other, fifteen minutes max twice that week!) to keep the charade going, but… Doctoroki and her have gone back to being quiet.

It’s not that they’re being cold. They text as often as they can, but things have been insane at work. Shouto needed to back-up Dr. Momo a lot this week. There has also been an increase in villain activity everywhere, which means more wounded civilians and pros to tend to. Ochako herself feels the strain. She replies to him diligently, tries to get a conversation going despite the hour-long gaps in between replies.

It definitely isn’t the same as the nice talk they had over the weekend. She supposes this is why there are articles and articles in girly magazines about how hard it is to date anyone in the medical profession--for them, time is a construct that only serves to tell them how much they haven’t accomplished yet.

But at least this time Shouto seems to be a little less clinical in his texts.

  Todoroki Shouto (1434H): Got a case with pedia--trauma, burn injuries, just stabilized. The pro who rescued the child days ago just visited. Midoriya is having his pre-op crying session as we speak.

Todoroki Shouto (1434H): Should I comfort him, or let him be? I feel very out of place just watching him here.

 Ochako giggles imagining the scene. Deku-kun doesn’t always need the pre-op sobfest, but in hard cases he does it to focus, and so he doesn’t burst out into tears in the middle of the OR. Or so he says.

Three hours ago, she realizes, as she looks at the timestamps. If the other nurses didn’t make her wait so long and didn’t give her such a hard time during endorsements, she might have been able to reply to him earlier.

She starts to type, sorry, Shouto… you know, im having a hard time with work lately

… and then shakes her head, puffs her cheeks, deletes. No, don’t… Shouto doesn’t need to hear your drama, he doesn’t need more emotional load, he doesn’t have that sort of responsibility for you. This isn’t real. Isn’t real.

  Me (1737H): sry! Brought a couple of cases to med ward, took a while!

Me (1738H): i hope u told him he was gonna be okay! deku-kun needs a lot of tlc!!!

Me (1738H): work hard!!! I hope the baby makes it :(

 She sighs and drops her phone in her scrubsuit pocket and patiently waits for her ‘tattoo date’ in the hospital lobby.

Her phone vibrates again, and she inhales a bit, hoping that it’s Dr. Tokage telling her that she’s on the way down and they can finally go to Illusion Inks for her next session with Jirou. It’ll be an hour of her being pierced with needles while watching two pretty girls shamelessly flirt while she simmers in mild jealousy, but it’s definitely better than moping about at home and waiting for the next reply from--

  Shindo Yo (1740H): Hi, Uraraka-san!

Shindo Yo (1741H): Busy day at work, I bet (✖╭╮✖) it’s the same for us too

Shindo Yo (1741H): what r u up to?

 She stares glumly at the texts. Of course it isn’t Doctoroki. She breathes, asks herself why she’s doing this, but does it anyway.

  Me (1742H): I’m on my way out of work, senpai.

Shindo Yo (1743H): wow, ur replying fast to me today! Happy~ Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Shindo Yo (1745H): u must be rly rly pissed at work today huh? lol

Me (1747H): ig

Me (1747H): lots of villain attacks lately. busy

Shindo Yo (1748H): u know it :( we’re trying our best too. Just worked a double shift cos of that. Im beat!

Me (1749H): same

Shindo Yo (1750H): yeah u look like it 〈(゜。゜) gotta do sth bout that

 She freezes and narrows her eyes at the text. Wait, don’t tell me--

  Me (1751H): senpai. Dont be creepy

Shindo Yo (1752H): waaaah im not

Me (1752H): im callin security

Shindo Yo (1753H): pls dont i promise im not bein creepy!!!

Me (1754H): yes. u. r!!!!

Shindo Yo (1754H): only a little!!! just dont move ok?

 From her vantage point in the middle sofa, she immediately looks around the lobby. There are only a few people sitting, waiting, speaking to the receptionist, who all suddenly turn to her with barely-concealed interest in their eyes.

She smells strawberries from behind her. When she turns her head, she gets a faceful of box and strawberry scent. “What the--”

“Whoa, easy,” that familiar voice says with a chuckle. “You really are extra pissed today, huh.”

She gets the box out of her face and gives Shindo Yo a solid glare. “Senpai! What are you doing here?!” she squeaks.

He isn’t wearing his skimpy hero uniform, thank god. He’s in a shirt, a leather jacket and skinny jeans, a lazy smile on his face that would have made her stupid with want in her younger years. He chuckles again and leans forward. No sense of personal space whatsoever, as usual. “Had business here. I’m just waiting for my associate to get to the lobby so we can time out.”

She raises an eyebrow, obviously not believing him. “We?”

“My new agency, remember? We’ve been crazy busy lately, but when we get time we try to see the people we help out on the field.” He moves the box around, as if it’s proof enough of his claims. “I just saw a young lady I rescued from an attack in Naruhata. She gave me an entire box of strawberry mochi. Which is sweet, but unfortunate, seein’ as I don’t really like sweets and all…”

Even though it’s not uncommon for pro heroes to do just that, especially the young ones, Ochako isn’t convinced. “Really. Where is she admitted?”

Shindo rolls his eyes, pulls out a card attached from the box and reads. “Dear Seismic-sama, Thank you for saving my life. Heart eyes. It isn’t much, but please accept my gift! This is my fav snack ever and I hope this makes you happy, exclamation exclamation. Stars and hearts and cute rabbit with hearts for eyes. Love, Luna-chan from room 432.”

He lets her read the card, and she has to admit that the glittery gel ink and the cutesy handwriting makes it look genuine. She stops narrowing her eyes. “Okay. I guess that’s pretty nice, senpai.”

“Right?” he says with a proud little grin. “Am I still creepy, Uraraka-san?”

She puffs her cheeks. “You still are,” she says with a petulant upturn of the nose. “I really thought you were waiting to ambush me! You really gotta be less weird when you text!”

“Haha, fine fine.” He tries to look apologetic, but not really. “So… you alone here? Are you waiting for Todoroki-san, or…”

“Oh… no… he’s busy,” she says. Instinctively, she looks at her phone and sees no messages. She wonders if the surgery is over.

“Hm. Odd.” There’s a little devious glint in his eyes as he says it, one that makes Ochako narrow her eyes at him again like he’s a creep. “What, I’m just saying! Because she told me she’s just finished talking to him, and--”

She? Who she? Also, what would Shindo know about Todoroki anyway? Seriously, why does he care so much about the two of them, when--

“Shindo-senpai. Uraraka-san,” someone says from behind him, making Ochako’s words of protest die in her mouth.

Two people approach from behind them, staring at their conversation as if it’s the strangest thing in the world. Ochako meets Kodai Yui’s raven eyes and glassy skin and aura of gentleness that she’ll never achieve in her lifetime ever. The momentary breathlessness that any normal person gets from staring at her magnifies upon seeing the person next to her.

“Oh… Yui-chan and Todoroki-kun,” Shindo says. Standard friendly smile on his face, a raise of an eyebrow as he glances at Ochako knowingly. “You guys done with your little talk?”

Ochako doesn’t mean to stare, but the way Shouto looks at her in a mildly perturbed manner makes her wonder how shocked her face must look like.

Yui nods. “Our patient is okay. Todoroki-san and Midoriya-san did well.”

The other pro nods, and then sticks his hand out to shake Shouto’s. “So I guess that means I should congratulate you, Doc? Yui-chan was so worried about Tanuki-kun. She was pretty happy knowing that you were on board the case and all, ya know?”

Face not moving the slightest, Shouto nods and takes Shindo’s hand. “Thank you. Seismic-san, right?”

“Nah, you can call me Shindo. Or, senpai. We didn’t go to the same school, but we’re both proper heroes, you and I,” he says, eyes creasing. “Uraraka-san calls me that, so I don’t mind if you do too.”

“Hm,” says Shouto, looking at Ochako curiously.

Ochako stupidly looks down on her hands.

Yui glances at the two of them with an unreadable look before looking at Shindo again. “Senpai, Yoarashi-san might be wondering where we are right now.”

“Ah, you’re right.” Shindo makes a bashful face and bows to the two of them. “Sorry for cutting our conversation off so abruptly, Uraraka-san! I guess we can continue next time, eh?”

“Huh? No, that’s--”

Before she can protest no, we aren’t talking about anything important at all, don’t say misleading things in front of my fake boyfriend, Shindo is already pushing Yui by her shoulders out of the lobby and giving the two of them a small wave of one hand. Soon, they disappear in the elevators, leaving the doctor and the nurse alone.

Shouto blinks once and trains his eyes to hers. “You two seem close,” he says neutrally.

She nods, bites her lower lip. “I knew him from high school.”

My first boyfriend, she wants to say. First person I ever loved. First boy to ever break my heart. Because it’s the truth, a distant one that’s so far away that she should feel nothing significant if she admits them.

Still, she doesn’t. And she wonders why the words don’t come.

“Hm,” Shouto repeats.

There’s something odd going on in his eyes, something very hard to read. Ochako decides that if he were to ask anything at all about Shindo, that she’d tell him everything--how they started and how they ended and how Shindo is weaseling himself back into her life and she’s probably giving him one too many chances to do so by replying to his stupid texts because she’s stupid and lonely and stressed over all the gossip and all the things going on in Shouto’s family that really isn’t any of their faults--basically all that she can’t tell Shouto because heaven knows he’s got too much on his plate as it is, and Shindo seems to like listening to her, but she really wished that it was just Shouto and her and none of this shitty drama--and even though none of this is real, sometimes it feels so real , just like their drive back from Shizuoka, and--

And…

And, Shouto doesn’t say a single word. And… all that senseless drivel dies down her throat. She looks down on her hands again and gives up on that trainwreck of ideas.

Instead, she braces herself and says, “You and Yui-san.”

He blinks. Without a word or a single movement, waits for her to continue.

She inhales as quietly as she can, and speaks again. “I didn’t know you guys spoke too,” she manages, without any incriminating lilts to her tone. Or so she hopes. “I mean… I’m not, you know--I’m just a little bit surprised, I didn’t know she was the pro you were talking about earlier--”

Ochako do you really sound as much as a jealous bitch as you do in your head?! You’re just stating cold hard facts, so don’t be weird about this. Don’t be stupid.

Shouto speaks, after a beat of loaded silence. “I should have texted you about her, I suppose,” he says quietly. “She went to us right before the surgery to make sure that--”

“Paging Dr. Todoroki to ER. Dr. Todoroki, to ER now. Dr. Todoroki--”

They look up the ceiling, then at each other, and down on the ground simultaneously. Open their mouths at the same time, wordlessly clamp them shut as if they’re each other’s awkward, awkward mirrors.

Shouto exhales quietly, and says, “I should go. That might be Dr. Aizawa looking for me. I heard there’s been another Nomu attack nearby.”

Ochako nods. She tries to give a bright smile. “Okay. Do your best, Todoroki-kun.”

“Okay. Be careful going home, Uraraka.” He looks down on her hands, that odd look never leaving. Ochako carefully stares at his mouth, waits for the usual smile he gives her before they part ways.

It doesn’t come. Soon she watches his broad back disappear as he goes past the doors to the ER.

Later, she realizes that she’s still holding the box that Shindo left behind. For Seismic-sama, the card reads, clearly visible to the naked eye.

She wants to shove her face repeatedly into the stupid mochi.

 *

 The bothersome feelings of that odd encounter don’t leave her, not even when Setsuna eventually makes it to the lobby and asks her why she looks like she looks like Dr. Shiozaki after talking to an atheist. She manages not to say a lot of how she feels on the way to Illusion Ink, but eventually caves to the heavy interrogation when Kyoka starts working on her tattoo again.

(It’s really hard to be dishonest while a sharp needle is drawing lines on the inner, softer side of your arm.)

She doesn’t tell them about the fake-dating scheme. Just her honest troubles about people talking shit and treating her like shit, but not hard enough that she can complain to people about it. People hinting that she isn’t good enough for Shouto, just because she’s an ordinary nurse with an ordinary face and an ordinary quirk, and how fucked up it is that people would rather see him with Yui-san rather than someone like her.

And actually seeing him with Yui-san, out of nowhere… that took her by surprise. Made her feel weirder than it should. Shouto didn’t even look that bothered when Ochako was eyeing the two of them with all those silent questions floating in her head. She was ready to listen to whatever excuse--no, explanation he would give, but he got paged, and all she has is that heavy shitty feeling in her tummy to bring home.

“Hm,” Kyoka says, as she lifts the needle and dabs her swollen skin with gauze. (Lots of people going hm this evening. She’s starting to get sick of it.) “And you say that Doctoroki saw you talking to that Shindo guy at the lobby, right?”

Ochako winces, but doesn’t say anything.

“Hm,” Setsuna concurs, as her sharp teeth work through a strawberry mochi. “Todoroki saw, all right. I was watching all of you from the back, ‘cause it looked like drama was ‘bout to go down--”

Her jaw drops, allowing a shocked stupid sound escape from it.

“-- and it was obvious that Seismic was super into you,” she continues without an ounce of shame. Her disembodied hand floats and stuffs a mochi into Kyoka’s mouth, who receives it blankly. “If I were Todoroki, I’d be super bothered. But he didn’t say anything at all after that encounter. Right, Ochako-chan?”

She closes her jaw, and winces again. That’s also part of why she feels like shit right now. “Is it weird that I feel bad that he didn’t feel bad about this?”

The other girls look at each other. “Well… I mean if it were us, and it was Yui instead of Seismic makin’ eyes at Kyoka-chan, I won’t be bothered,” says the lizard girl thoughtfully.

“I agree. Yui looks like a sweetheart,” the tattoo apprentice agrees with a sage nod. “I even got her photobook! It’s really nice, I understand why they had a stampede over it--”

“Oh shit, is it the unofficial one by the photographer, Spiral?” gasps Setsuna, eyes wide when Kyoka nods at her smugly. “Let me borrow please omg I heard the entire book is soul-cleansing, and heaven knows my dead and rotting soul needs cleansing--”

Ochako immediately realizes that she’s speaking with the wrong pair. She sighs as they gush a little more about Yui, until they notice her simmering in a pool of insecurity.

“Oh, but we don’t mean that you’re any less of a sweetheart than Yui,” says the internist with a cackle. “Uh… right. What I was saying was, it’s different, what happened earlier. Seismic and you? I dunno, I guess for others it looks like you guys were just talking but… when I saw you I had half a mind to get you out of there… something just didn’t feel right, I guess? And I was totally waitin’ for Todoroki to do the same, but...”

He didn’t. The little nurse twists her lip. “I wish you got me out of there, Dr. Tokage,” she sighs. “Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so…”

Disappointed. Guilty. 

“Weird,” she finishes, with a sigh.

“Hm.” Kyoka and Setsuna say in unison, eyeing her with sympathy and suspicion and it’s weird how they mixed those together.

“Well,” the tattoo artist says thoughtfully, triangular eyes boring right into hers in the most grown-up glint she’s ever seen, “I get the confusion, I really do. You’re dealing with a lot at work, so you’re not at your best right now. Maybe that thing with that Shindo guy is nothing, and that thing with Yui is nothing, and maybe it isn’t worth it to be weird about it. But I think that all those weird things that you’re feeling should be expressed as they are to Doctoroki. You know? I mean… it might be a weird conversation, but you guys are in a real, adult relationship--”

She tries not to choke at the last part.

“--and real, adult relationships require real, adult conversations. Otherwise, there’d be misunderstandings, and trust me, those are the things you want to deal with as soon as possible. Right, Setsuna?”

Setsuna nods and gives Ochako a sawtooth smile. “Gotta say, Ochako-chan, you got your work cut out for you, eh? Shouto’s a talker, isn’t he?”

The nurse sighs deeply. He can be, if he wants to, but it’s obvious that he didn’t want to say anything earlier. Maybe for him it’s all nothing.

Maybe she should talk to him about it. But… how to start talking to Todoroki Shouto about… feelings ?

Yikes, Ochako. Good luck.

The troubled nurse closes her eyes as Kyoka continues shading the entire planet Saturn on her arm.

 *

  Me (2143H): hey! Im home from illusion ink. Arm hurts like crazy. Dr Tokage gave me a ride back. How r u?

Todoroki Shouto (2200H): That’s good. I’m waiting for our turn to use the OR. It’s going to be a busy night.

Me (2202H): Oh no. Please do your best! ;;;;

Todoroki Shouto (2201H): Thank you. I will.

Me (2217H): Say, Shouto. I know this is weird for me to ask, but

Me (2218H): Can we talk?

Todoroki Shouto (2219H): ?

Todoroki Shouto (2219H): We’re talking now.

Me (2220H): No, I mean. Like a real talk irl. Over food or sth

Me (2221H): I can treat you anywhere u like promise

Todoroki Shouto (2221H): Ah.

Todoroki Shouto (2222H): It might be difficult to do so soon. I’ll do my best to make time.

Todoroki Shouto (2224H): I’ll let you know as soon as I can.

Me (2226H): Oh! Thats totally fine i get wat u mean

Me (2228H): so yeah, i guess ill just wait for ur schedule to clear up;; and mine too hahaha

Me (2245H): ah, so, i gotta go to bed soon, got the morning shift tomorrow

Me (2246H): good night ^_^

  Todoroki Shouto (0214H): Sorry about that. We just got out of surgery.

Todoroki Shouto (0215H): Please be patient with me, Ochako.

Todoroki Shouto (0230H): Good night.

 *

 Things happen. Outside, society’s on the verge of crumbling because villains keep popping up left and right.

Life in the hospital, however, goes on.

This week, Shouto and Ochako manage to make exactly one public appearance: a coffee run at the convenience store next to the hospital lobby, before he forces his sleep-deprived self to drive her home. She isn’t sure if he does it out of obligation to their set-up, or if he needed a functioning pair of eyes at the passenger seat to wake him up if he falls asleep on the wheel… which happens twice, at different stoplights.

They make it to Ochako’s apartment without incident. She watches him carefully as he rubs his tired eyes and takes a swig of the cheap coffee, which makes his mouth curl in distaste. “Are you going to make it home, Doctoroki?”

He nods, although his sallow eyes seem to say the contrary.

She swallows nervously and says, “You can… take a nap inside, if you want to--”

“I’ll be okay,” Shouto says, with sudden clarity. “I don’t want to impose.”

But you should, she thinks. “I don’t want you to get in an accident.”

He shakes his head. “I won’t. Promise.”

He drains the coffee, to prove his point further. Ochako continues to eye him warily, but it looks like entering her tiny home will make him more uncomfortable than dying on the road, so she keeps her mouth shut.

“You can… take a nap in your car, if you need to,” she says, unbuckling her seatbelt with a sense of defeat.

“Don’t worry about me.” He tries to look at her with some assurance. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home. Or when they pull me out of the wreckage. Either way.”

She laughs nervously. That’s all she can do at this point.

Thankfully, twenty minutes later as she sits on the floor biting her fingernails to the crescent, Shouto sends a photo of his car, parked safely in the garage. Home. I’ll be sleeping in a bit. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.

And that’s that, for the week. Ochako feels a little empty, if she were being completely honest with herself, but really, she shouldn’t have hoped for anything different than this sudden exhausted back-and-forth between them.

She shouldn’t have allowed herself to feel much more than that.

Because as it happens, on the dull Tuesday that follows, all hell breaks loose in the feelings department, in the worst way that it can.

 *

 It happens like this:

1409H. Most of her work is done, she isn’t on deck for the next procedure. All her paperworks are done, and her shift is essentially over. It’s one of those rare good days at work where she finishes on time. Eijirou and Yuuga are done, too, and to celebrate the rare miracle of being out of the hospital in the light of day, they decide to treat themselves to a nice meal.

Eijirou and Yuuga argue about where to go for some time. In hindsight, Ochako thinks that things might have gone differently if Yuuga had insisted on wanting to eat Monoma’s croque madame a little bit more, but as it happens Eijirou convinces them that NTG cafe is the way to go, because have you even tried their truffle pasta Aoyama? Oh my god you should, and also he wants to see if the owner, Bakugou, is doing okay today. (He doesn’t elaborate much when he’s asked why he wants to check, though.)

Ochako hasn’t been to this cafe much--the first time she ordered something, Bakugou was manning the counter and had the gall to write RoundFace on her cup. Never mind how accurate it is, and how very amused Mina was at the time it happened, it was still pretty darn rude. But she digresses.

Today, though, the other blonde barista named Kaminari takes their orders, and they take a seat at the back of the cafe, near the exit at the other side.

As they wait, Yuuga gushes about the Idiabazal cheese he got thru the Cheese of the Month club. Ochako tries to be interested, but ducks down to send a message on her phone very quickly:

  Me (1432H): I finished work on time today so im eatin out with eijirou-kun and yuuga-kun :) i hope work won’t be too insane for you today.

 She stares at the screen for a good minute after she sends it, expects nothing and sees nothing. She pushes her phone back to her pocket, tries to lose herself in Yuuga’s sparkles, and…

The cafe collectively holds its breath, as the pro-hero Yui enters.

Even Yuuga pauses for a good second to say, “Ah! My, isn’t she stunning?”

Dressed simply in a sleeveless white shirt and jeans that fit her just right; very light make-up that enhances the glow of her face. Straight, dark hair that falls over her shoulders. She goes to the counter to place her order, not minding how Kaminari instantly goes whey and almost messes everything up.

“Yeah, she is,” Ochako admits with just a smidgen of sour in her voice. She watches as Yui regards the grenade-matryoshka bomb at the counter with prolonged interest, opening and closing the doll as if it’s the most amusing thing in the world.

Huh, she thinks, seeing the unmistakable smile on the other girl’s face. So she can do something else with her mouth…

She reprimands herself for sounding so mean, and goes back to sipping her cold brew.

The door chimes as another person enters the cafe. She doesn’t look up, not until she hears Eijirou cough, and Yuuga hum in surprise.

Ochako almost doubles over herself, when she sees the scene in front of her.

Todoroki Shouto looks mildly out of breath, like he ran on the way there. His coat is slung over his arm, and when he reaches out to touch Yui on the shoulder, she turns and stares at him as if she’s expecting him to be there.

“What the,” Eijirou mumbles, looking at Ochako with more than just a little concern.

They exchange very sparse words, and pick a table at the other, more intimate end of the cafe. They don’t seem to notice that they are there. When they sit, Shouto’s back is to them. Yui’s face is visible from Ochako’s vantage point, if she peeks over the other customers’ shoulders.

“Well… this is quite étrange ,” Yuuga whispers to her, conspiratorially. “Did you know about this, mon enfant? ”

She numbly shakes her head and keeps an eye on them from a distance. Yui seems to be saying, thank you for meeting me here, Todoroki-san. You must be busy.

Eijirou reaches out for her hand. “Baby, you okay? Maybe we should go there and say hi? You know, it could be nothing, and...”

Ochako shakes her head again, and watches Shouto’s head move a little as he speaks. The heroine replies with a curt nod. There are plenty of words being exchanged--she misses a lot of the words being said, and barely deciphers, I understand. For your family though, this might be important.

The blonde turns to her with a questioning stare. “ Mes amies, Ochako doesn’t look so well, perhaps we should leave instead, let her have some fresh air--”

“Shush, you two,” she snaps, a little too sternly than she means. Her two friends flinch and look down. She’ll say sorry later, but now she can’t feel any sense of apology, she can’t feel anything--

Okay, Yui says, an odd look in her eyes. Her mouth doesn’t move from its usual straight, impassive line. She says something that Ochako can’t quite catch, and then--

I want to hold your hand.

Shouto freezes. Ochako freezes even more, because Yui reaches out and holds his right hand, and he doesn’t stop her, and she says something in such a low voice, her mouth barely moving, like it’s a secret between the two of them, and Shouto leans forward, says something back, and--

“Babe.” Eijirou’s tone is sharper now, sharp enough to cut through the panicked haze that her head is suddenly lost in. “Ochako. Look at me.”

She does just that, and wonders why his face is suddenly so hazy and why it’s hard to breathe. When she inhales, it’s shaky, and an ugly sob wants to escape from her open mouth. She doesn’t let it though, she focuses on the way Eijirou is holding her hand and the way Yuuga is patting comforting circles at her back, keeping the sounds at bay.

“Let’s get you out of here, okay?” the redhead says softly. He shimmies out of his hoodie and places it on top of her shaking head. “You don’t have to say anything, we’ll just get you through the back exits, get you some fresh air--”

“ Oui, ma petite chérie, ” Yuuga adds, dabbing her cheeks with a paper napkin and glaring at the other tables, who begin to stare. “We’ll take care of you, do not worry.”

“Okay,” she hiccups stupidly.

They make it outside somehow, away from prying eyes. Ochako guesses and hopes that the faraway table doesn’t notice them and her and her stupid tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. Eijirou drives her home, with Yuuga tagging along, sitting in careful silence.

In her tiny apartment (the one Shouto doesn’t even want to step into, ahhh it makes more sense now), she allows her friends to sit herself down on the floor, wrap a blanket or two around her, play her favorite songs. Yuuga fusses about her bare kitchenette and somehow comes out with a cup of hot cocoa, while Eijirou sends an SOS to Mina and Hanta to come after their shift, if they can.

They ask her to talk, in turn. About her and Doctoroki, if there were any problems, if there were any signs. Because, social media aside, come to think of it, her friends don’t know a thing about the two of them. “I mean, I see you guys eat together at work sometimes, but I… haven’t seen you two talk up close. Except that time in the locker,” Eijirou says as gently as he can.

She shakes her head. Keeping up appearances is hard enough to do for the crowds and Shouto’s family. “We haven’t been… talking a lot.”

They never did get back to talking about their IRL talk. They ask why, and the urge to tell her closest friends about the fake dating scheme wells in her chest like a dam about to break, but she stops herself on time. Still, she can’t give another reason other than being busy. Eijirou and Yuuga look at each other and sigh in unison.

“Whatever is going on, mon cher,” Yuuga says, after they carefully try to wheedle more useless details from her, “You two simply must talk. Yes?”

Ochako sniffles and says, “But… talking is hard.”

She’s afraid of admitting to Shouto that she feels hurt, even though by all accounts she doesn’t have the right to. Especially when Shouto did all this in the first place ‘so no-one gets hurt’.

Eijirou laughs and ruffles her hair, like the brat that she is. “Yeah. It is. But I don’t think you’ll feel any better just not talking about this right?”

She buries her face in her fluffy blankets and whines.

 *

  Todoroki Shouto (1756H): Good work today. The patient we operated on is recovering really quickly.

Todoroki Shouto (1758H): Are you on your way home?

Me (1805H): ya i am. In mina-chans car

Todoroki Shouto (1806H): Okay. Let me know when you’re safe at home.

Me (1810H): …

Todoroki Shouto (1812H): …?

Me (1814H): why

Todoroki Shouto (1820H): …

Todoroki Shouto (1821H): I’d like to know that you made it home without anyone causing you harm or threatening you.

Todoroki Shouto (1822H): I don’t want a repeat of what happened in Shizuoka.

Me (1825H): ah. ya that makes sense

Todoroki Shouto (1829H): Are you all right, Ochako?

Me (1830H): yeah i am

Todoroki Shouto (1831H): You sure?

Todoroki Shouto (1832H): Please be honest with me

Todoroki Shouto (1832H): Whatever is bothering you, I’d like to know. I’d like to help.

Me (1834H): Doctoroki

Me (1837H): Shouto, I mean

Me (1838H): When should we break up?

[kevkesblog]

Felix Kroos (spring 2018)

Sorry for spelling or grammar errors. This was also recorded before the World Cup 2018 in Russia.

N:     Hello, nice to see you. Tell us: who are you?

F:      I’m Felix Kroos. 27 years old and Toni’s brother.

N:     So you grew up in Greifswald. You are slightly younger but nevertheless you are pretty close age-wise. How was that like? Has there ever been anything other than football at home?

F:      Yeah, I mean because of our small age gap we did almost everything together. The same interests; really we did everything together. Sports was always on top of our list. And it wasn’t necessarily always football. I guess we started with badminton. We even went to practice badminton, since our uncle worked as a coach. Our mother also used to play it. But in the end it came down to football very quick. We were maybe five or six years old around that time. So from that day on, for us it was only football. After a while we recognized both that we can play rather decent (smirks) and it’s even more fun if you successful doing it. So we committed doing it and now we are here…

N:     What turned you off badminton? It also a nice sport…

F:      Sure, but for me one reason was the fact that you were able to win more trophies why football was better.

N:     So it was all about winning…

F:      Yeah, maybe it was all about winning even back then… but I would say almost every boy played football on the streets before and it was just fun. So this automatically led us to football. My father worked as a coach as well… so we almost had no other choice. But we liked it (laughs)

N:     (laughs). Did he also directly coached you guys?

F:      Yeah, yeah. He basically followed everything over the years from the very beginning. He stopped once we got into professional areas of football. But he definitely followed our path for a very long time.

N:     Where you actually able to deal with him in a neutral way? Or did have moments sometimes where you would think „Oh come on dad! You saw I scored!“ How was that like?

F:      (smirks). Sometimes like this; sometimes like that. It wasn’t always easy. You didn’t want to be lectured by him all the time especially once you grew older. Because once you were getting home it was all about football again – so in that sense we never really had a breack (smirks). But in the end you can say that it helped us. I think thats one of the reasons why we are at the point we are today.

N:     Were you able to say for yourself, „I dont want to play football anymore“ Or was that something that never really reached your mind?

F:      I never really had any thoughs about that. It never reached me. I was rather successful and it was still fun. A great mixture success and fun. So thats why those thoughts never came up – no.

N:     What did you think, did you do different than your brother to be successful? Did you do things differently?

F:      I think so. Talent was there – but thats not the only recipe you need. We did a lot of extra stuff. Extra sessions. Which was something – again, we were able to do together. Everything around has was put aside – we had to renounce alot oft hings in life. But also because we wanted it. This – adding talent and hard work, brought us to were we are today.

N:     Were you able to give yourself some extra love and support because you did everything together?

F:      Yes, I think so. Like I said, we were always together since we were little kids. We were everywhere on the road together. And we became even closer once Toni left home for Munich at the age of sixteen. We became closer. We had almost daily contact with each other. We dont even need words anymore, we always know what one thinks the other is thinking. Support is always there. Regardless what happens. Thats something everyone knows from the other.

N:     But it is crazy isn’t it, if somebody leaves home so early in life? I mean you are still a child right?

F:      Yeah. I couldn’t imagine it at that age myself. It was definitely a brave step, but Toni was always a guy who made clear decisions. Sure he had some thoughts about it, but he always stood behind his decisions. And he always was striving for the best. It was the path which led to Munich (laughs).

N:     Sure. But until 2010 he was always the youngest player on the pitch. Thats something you have to accomplish right?

F:      Yeah definitely – he always was the best. Since he was little. In every team he played. Striving for the best was always something he was used to. The fact he beats records doing it – may not be normal, but forseeable.

N:     Does it maybe come from yourself. That you look into the mirrow and say to yourself „I’am the best“?

F:      I don’t. (laughs) I can’t speak for others. I don’t think Toni does it too – saying „I’am the best“. He is just convinced of his own strength. He knows he is good, if he performs well and shows his skills and does what he does best. That he doesn’t have to be afraid of something. And he knows it – every day. Without him standing in front of the mirrow telling himself everyday how good he is. (smirks)

N:     If you go back to your childhood. Do you remember your first football? How did it look like?

F:      Well that was very long ago. We have become older ourselves over the meantime (smirks).

N:     Was it like a real ball – or didn’t you start with a small, light rubber ball?

F:      No, I think it was a real one. Anyway we grew up very protected. We didn’t lack anything. Maybe because we didn’t need much – except a ball (laughs). But I think it was a normal football – even back then and you never let someone else take it away from you.

N:     Did you have posters of famous football players in your room?

F:      Yes. I was back then – because oft he geografical distance, Rostock fan. So in that regard I had posters of Rostock players, but I cant tell which players percisely. Toni was a Werder fan – Werder Bremen fan. But he had almost everything on his walls. Football players – but not exclusively from one club.

N:     But baskatball has also been a great deal. NBA, right?

F:      Yeah thats when basketball kind of came along – the older he got. „The older he got“ (rolls eyes) well were aren’t that old yet – you have to be careful saying that (laughs). But to a degree where we are watching more basketball on TV than football.

N:     Perhaps to get some distance…?

F:      Yeah I mean you deal with football almost every day. I think it’s important to see something different once in a while. And to focus your interest on other things. Without lacking your focus on your own performance – your own job, so to speak. But nevertheless I think it’s important to see other things as well.

N:     Did he lace up your shoes?

F:      I could be, yes (laughs). I really don’t have good memory on that one. But sure he did. He did quite some stuff being a „big brother“.

N:     Did you share food in a brotherly fashion?

F:      Ehm, well sure we did have arguments at home like you usually have as siblings but in the end nothing bad ever happend.

N:     Favorite food?

F:      With regards to Toni it’s very easy: a Schnitzel with potatoes. He even eats fried potatoes without anything - without onions. He is very simple on those terms.

N:     How about you?

F:      Back in the day it was – I don’t know if people remember them, but yeast-dough dumpling from grandma. (laughs). Really good – even today! (laughs) But I like to eat everything: sushi, meat, Döner, everything.

N:     Well it all tastes great.

F:      Yeah (smirks).

N:     Ok, back home. I would like to know, have there been like special agreements, code words, nicknames during your childhood? Something that bonded you together? Did you went off road with bikes… or…

F:      There was always a sort of competition between us two. We really made a competition out of nothing. Even then we did a bike tour, the question always was „who gets to the finishline first?“ We were always looking for competition. It was always about winning. And we were both different in that regard. I was the grimly guy that and Toni by contrast was always very smooth and easygoing. He had to laugh about everything I did, which (laughs) made me sometimes really angry. We were very different in that regard. Yet – we always wanted to compete. Almost everywhere and thats something that has bonded us together.

N:     How does he deal with loosing?

F:      Sure he doesn’t like it. But he has a very relaxed way of dealing with defeats….

N:     And you?

F:      It’s fine now. I would never say I like to loose, but you realize that there are more important things than loosing a football game.

        (10:00min)

N:     You are a successful football player yourself – If something doesn’t really go well, how do you deal with that? Do you speak with each other? I mean it is a lot of pressure… all the fans in the stadium… everybody watches every move you make very closely…

F:      Yeah sure. Both of us know how it all works. Everyone of us has experiences in that regard. So we both can feel how the other one is feeling. And that there is always support. But like I said: we don’t need a lot of words. We know from each other, what the other person is thinking. Sure we do have some words of encouragement occasionally. He uses them more for me than I do for him (laughs)… Since he wins more often. Just the fact, that each of us knows that the other is there for you – and that he knows how it looks like with the other brother, thats enough.

N:     And your mom? Do you have to go to your mom sometimes? (laughs)

F:      (laughs) No, you have to comfort her more sometimes than yourself… (laughs) But there is always support coming from them as well. They are rooting for us everytime… sometimes more than they anticipate. In some situations they are more upset than us. I mean they almost gave up everything for us. They have always been there for us and brought us to where we are today.

N:     Crazy unconditional love…

F:      Yeah… like I said, they did almost everything for us. Without reservations. We didn’t miss anything in our childhood, we had everything. And maybe you try to give something back in our age or our position now.

N:     Support…

F:      Yes, you know realize that there are things in life more important than football. Things that ARE more important. Sometimes you should never forget. Even now with Toni’s Foundation. We are doing a lot of things and try to support many people. People that weren’t as lucky as we were. You get to know that football is not everything…

N:     But I would guess it is difficult isn’t it? Because you have a certain amount of income… when you see a nice car. Do you think if you get to know a sick child or meet their family… I mean does that change something within yourself?

F:      Yes, absolutely! I remember going into one special hospital for the first time. I have never seen anything like this before. It’s really difficult, yet – I can recommend to everyone to take a look for themselves and see how strong these people are. How good these people cope with their fates and circumstances. You are nothing against that as a football player. Those are the real everyday heros! Like I said, I would recommend everyone to see this on their own. Because you quickly realize that your problems aren’t as bis as they seem…

N:     Yeah I can imagine. Will you be in Russia?

F:      I will definitely watch the first game live in the stadium. I have to look at my schedule after that. How long do I have vacation? But sure, I will at least see one game in Russia.

N:     Have you ever been there before?

F:      No.

N:     Are you excited?

F:      Well it wasn’t my number one travel destination. But if you can connect the two, it gives you an opportinity to see Russia. I look forward to it.

N:     It’s nice there.

F:      Yeah, we will see.

N:     I can recommend it. Do you have a special wish for your brother? Is there something you want to tell him?

F:      No, not really. Of course you wish him health and success - generally speaking. He should just enjoy it. I think not many football players are able to play at a world cup. And maybe in a few years you will look back and you start to feel sorry for not enjoying it. So that’s why I think he should just enjoy it.

N:     What about Real? Do you sometimes visit Madrid?

F:      I haven’t been to a game yet. It just doesn’t fit my schedule…

N:     …because you both are playing at the same time…

F:      Not being able to just go there for a short trip - it annoys me pretty much. I have been to Madrid a couple of times, just to see him. But I think at one point I’ll be able to watch one of his games live. Yet I follow every game via I-pad or TV.

N:     Well, I guess he watches your games as well…

F:      Yeah, yeah – if he doesn’t play at the same time as I do, he watches my games too. We always watch each others games.

N:     What about your future? Is there something you want to achieve?

F:      I just try to… ehm try the best under the current circumstances. So that I don’t have to regret something later. I don’t want to plan what I want to do in one year, two years. I want to do whats right now and what I think is right. So with that I won’t regret anything later on. (laughs)

N:     What I always want to know – I also have siblings. Two brothers who play in Croatia. What’s it like to go onto the pitch with everyone chanting your name?

F:      It’s a nice feeling – everytime. It’s never a daily routine. It’s always special.

N:     Are you nervous?

F:      Tense – yes. Nervous, yes maybe a bit. But not in negative way. Also positive…

N:     …motivating…

F:      Yes, motivating. It’s always something special – every time. It never became a daily routine and it never will be… And I think thats something which a lot of players will miss once their career is over. Those moments.

N:     Goosebumps right?

F:      Yeah…

N:     Once Toni got to play for Bayern Munich for the first time… How was that for you? Where you there?

F:      I was watching it on TV – yes. I think he was a subsitute player that game. And I can remember very vividly that he made to assists that game. I just went like it went before through his youth. It was the perfect first game… I think he played for some twenty minutes… but I think that was more emotional than his world cup win. Because it seems that you finally reached the place you always trained and worked to get to. That your dreams have finally come true… thats a moment you probably will never forget.

N:     Exactly, you are living your dream… but there are so many other players – so many others. And sometimes it just takes a few minutes and your spot on the team is gone. How can you motivate or calm yourself so you dont get discomfort or fear of not making it? Everybody is interchangeable. Do you really get away from that fear? Sure you finally fulfill your dream but it doesn’t mean anything…

F:      Yeah, I mean often dreams are different than reality. Sure, if you in the game for some ten years, you can‘t say „Now I have fulfilled my dream!“. Not everyday is going to be like that. It’s always hard work. Nevertheless there is always a sense of satisfaction. Because, I mean, not many people can say about themselves they fufilled their childhood dream. Thats why investing a lot in it is always worth the cost. Everybody should always believe in it – in themselves. Regardless whether it works at the first opportunity or the next. If you have a dream – you should follow it.

N:     Don’t you sometimes crave for a relaxed time with slippers and a beer in your hand… or not (laughs).

F:      Well sometimes I do have those thoughs (smirks)… just let everything go. Not to think about what do I have to eat now. Or can I stay up later than usual? The ability to just decide freely what you want to do… it‘s something you look forward to but maybe in a couple of years down the road. You know the time will come – someday…

N:     As long as your body can handle it…

F:      Yeah right.

N:     Do you have real close friendships with other players with teams you’re playing in?

F:      Yes, I do. Not many but…

N:     Is it because of the competition?

F:      No, No… I don’t think so… I think it takes a year to build a friendship. And… I mean I played in Bremen for about six years now… and it felt I played with over 100 different players. You can‘t build friendships with that, players have come and gone over that period of time it’s not possible. But there are one or two guys among the players who stayed there for six years like I did … where you have a stronger bond and you made friends with. It’s possible - but very rare.

N:     But do you still have a relationship to Greifswald, to Rostock?

F:      Yes Greifwald, because grandma and grandpa still live there. As well as uncle and aunts.

N:     Can they live in peace or are they…

F:      Yeah, they have their peace.

N:     Everyone knows…

F:      ….well yeah everyone knows them. Sometimes people ask. But no, uncle and anuts are still there. My cousin moved there with his small family lately. My parents still live in Rostock. Mostly family but not really friends still live there.

N:     You are in Berlin?

F:      I’m in Berlin, yes. I like it.

N:     Well thats not far from home right?

F:      No, thats fine. If we only had a good airport it would be easier to reach the city (laughs)

N:     (laughs) Hey don’t grouse about Tegel airport! The nice thing about Tegel airport is two steps you are out of the plane; two steps you get through the airport; two steps our out of it!

F:      Well, yeah….

N:     Ok, I see. You want the new international airport…

F:      (laughs) But I guess I won’t be in Berlin once its finished.

N:     So you do have dreams and you want to play somewhere else?

F:      No. But I won’t play for another ten years. Thats pretty clear to me. I already know I will be going back to Bremen once my career is over. And yes, if the new airport needs another ten years to get finished it will be difficult for myself.

N:     Thankfully you dont need an airplane to Bremen. (laughs)

F:      Yeah (laughs).