#been working closely the past few weeks with another department on developing a new Thing

[theygender]

I have experienced my first interdepartmental nonsense at work. I think that Officially makes me a member of this office now

[threadatl]

Moratorium on rezoning for closed Atlanta Medical Center appears to be ending

by Darin Givens | August 28, 2024

The extended moratorium on rezoning for development at Wellstar's Atlanta Medical Center in Old Fourth Ward appears to be coming to an end, and the city is preparing to allow for new things to be built on much of the property.

In a new AJC article, City Council's Liliana Bakhtiari says: "My personal goal is to balance what is being discussed around medical needs — because that is desperately needed — but also the need for housing and not wasting this opportunity. We can’t force Wellstar to do anything. They are working with us — absolutely. But I do not believe we’ll be able to hold this for another moratorium."

The City has repeatedly renewed a moratorium on rezoning the AMC property since the hospital closed in 2022 to allow for planning for the property, with hopes of bringing some medical services back to at least a portion of it.

The Department of City Planning gave a presentation to NPU-M this week that shows plans to include up to 2.4 million square-feet of residential units, 120,000 square-feet of commercial and retail shops and 240,000 square-feet of offices space. Part of the property would ideally contain medical services, though there's no specific service identified.

One challenge will be relocating the services for people experiencing homelessness. The former Athletic Club on the property has been used as a temporary emergency shelter for the past few months.

Note that this is just a plan to allow for rezoning. Wellstar still owns the campus and no proposal from a developer is known at this point, at least not publicly.

[atlanticcanada]

Moncton, N.B. to open emergency shelter for unhoused people

The City of Moncton will be opening an emergency cold shelter for the city's homeless population next month.

Deputy Mayor Bryan Butler said council has agreed to use the Moncton Lions Community Centre located on St. George Street. The decision was made during a committee of the whole meeting Monday afternoon.

The city owns the building, which is located downtown near Vaughan Harvey Boulevard.

"We put out feelers for people that had buildings, but we didn't get any feedback so we had to use our own," said Butler.

There will be between 80 and 100 beds at the community shelter depending on how many are allowed in the building.

Butler said the shelter will be run by the province.

There's also the possibility of another shelter opening up outside the city.

"Riverview and Dieppe have stated they would like to come onboard and help. So we have to see if they have any buildings in their area also," said Butler.

The shelter at the community centre is tentatively slated to open in mid-December.

"The easiest thing is to open it up, the hardest part is to get staffing,” said Butler. "That’s the big issue right now and we're working on that.”

The House of Nazareth and Harvest House, the city's two other shelters, are at maximum capacity.

IMPACT FELT

While members of Moncton’s City Council discussed the new homeless shelter Monday afternoon, just outside city hall, a man used the nativity scene as a place to find shelter. That's only a few feet from a public bathroom where a man was found dead one week ago.

The Province of New Brunswick says it’s intent on doing something about the homeless situation in Moncton, but what that is, still isn't clear.

There are over 550 people living on Moncton's streets right now and roughly 160 more in shelters.

Father Chris VanBuskirk of St. George’s Anglican Church has been keeping his doors open at night so those who don’t have a shelter bed do have a place to stay.

“Well, there's a lot going on right now. We've been open every night this past week except for Tuesday night. And we've only been able to do that with the help of God and the help of volunteers,” he said.

Father VanBuskirk said he’s never seen the homeless situation in Moncton this dire.

Rebecca Howland, a spokesperson for the Department of Social Development, told CTV News members of various provincial departments will take an in-depth look at the challenges, current and future, facing the homeless in the Greater Moncton area.

“They will be speaking to those on the frontlines and it’s expected that the lessons learned from this gathering could be applied to other regions of the province if needed,” said Howland.

The man who died outside city hall has since been identified as 35-year-old Luke Landry, who tried unsuccessfully to find a place to stay that night.

A memorial service will be held for Landry on Wednesday afternoon at St. George’s Anglican Church.

"In the church, one of the traditional works of mercy is burying the dead,” said VanBuskirk. “It doesn't matter who that is, rich or poor. That is a responsibility that we have as we reflect on God's mercy."

Landry overdosed at Ensemble Moncton, an overdose prevention site, the afternoon of his death. He had gotten out of prison that morning.

Ensemble’s executive director told CTV News last week her staff did all they could to find him a place to stay while she worked the phones.

“The staff stayed a good hour and a half beyond closing as I'm trying to get responses back from my queries. And he left walking to one of the shelters hoping, even though they said they didn't have room or couldn't take him, that there would be room when they got there. But obviously, there was no room in the inn,” said Warren.

Warren said Landry’s overdose incident on Nov. 21 was very challenging for her staff and first responders.

“My staff were concerned, they contacted me and asked if we could find a place [for Landry to stay]. So my job is to go through the system. I contacted the shelters, there was no room in the inn. There was no room in the front entranceways. It didn’t meet the criteria or protocol for another location. I called social assistance's emergency number, was told there was new protocol recently made, that they were not able to provide for emergency hotel rooms,” she said.

Warren said people need to see drug users living on the streets as individuals that need help.

"People look at them and define them because they use substances or drugs. But that doesn't define them. We ask them to look beyond the substance and look at them as individuals. Somebody loves them, they're dear to somebody," said Warren.

Landry's family will hold a celebration of life for him in Cape Breton next summer.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/OqaNB7J

[dancingwiththeplanets]

Relief

Paz Vizsla x fem!reader 

     masterlist

Summary: “I know that we’re strangers but something really awful has happened to me and I need you.”

A/N: highly recommend listening to “everything i wanted” by billie eilish before reading because that is just the vibe.

Warnings: angst, ruminating, lots of dialogue, mourning the death of a parent, deals with depression and anxiety, soft!paz, a big brute with an even bigger heart

Word Count: 11k (oops)

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

“Death changes people, it brings some people together, pushes other people apart...” You remember your buir’s words as if they were spoken to you just yesterday. They were the words he said on the day of your mothers funeral. “...but you and I, we do not let such things hurt us. We are stronger together, my ad’ika, we can only get through this together. Yes?”

“Okay, buir.” You said. Your wide, 5 year old eyes not fully comprehending the situation.

He nodded, pained, and whispered, “That’s a good girl,” before leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead and departing to the ceremony, your small form in tow.

He was right, death did change people. You remember seeing him in pure agony, as much as he tried to hide it from you. Your aunts and uncles would always be over, consoling him, distracting you, oftentimes just having you stay with them so your father could grieve away from your eyes.

But he never let it hurt your relationship. No, he was the best buir anyone could dream of. Your buir.

He was a proud man, respected and admired by all the warriors in the covert. Fierce, honorable, diligent and selfless. He would and did do anything for anyone. And the tribe respected him immensely. They even elected for him to be the Alor on more than one occasion, and he practically was. But he refused the title again and again, preferring to do all the work without carrying any official status. Even so, he certainly inherited the same amount of respect that the actual Alor had.

“All of the privilege and none of the responsibility.” He would tease, winking at you as the two of you would sneak out of the kitchens or any other ‘off-limits’ part of the covert, everyone turning a blind eye to your buir and ad’ika antics. Mainly just because they respected him too much to chastise you.

Truly though, he was a very respectable man. He trained the little ones, led hunts and security protocols for the covert, found lost Mandalorians and brought them home to the tribe. He dedicated his life to building the strongest and most operational covert that Mandalorians had seen in years. And he did it all for you. All so that you would have a safe place to grow up, so that you would lose as few brothers and sisters, and as few aunts and uncles as possible. So that you wouldn’t lose anyone just as suddenly as you’d lost your mother.

But he never prepared you for the day you would lose him.

The two of you were unimaginably close, so close that now you regretted ever developing a relationship that strong with him even if he was your father, because look at what it got you.

How were you supposed to go on? What was your life without your buir? What was this covert without your buir?

You look around the room, dozens and dozens of armored warriors here to pay their respects to your father, his body already having been buried.  The tears leak out of your eyes without reserve as you hold tightly to your friend's hand, scanning the room for the comfort of your boyfriend. “He’ll be here soon” She whispers, though you sense doubt in her voice, “I’m sure of it.”

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

You’re not sure what time it is, only that you’ve spent yet another restless night collecting tears in your pillow. Your booted feet pad down the deserted hallway of the covert. It’s aboveground, hidden beneath the treelines of a dense forest on a nearly desolate planet. It’s beautiful, unlike most every other secret covert that exists, though very few do. It has bulletproof glass paneling all around to allow for light to peek in through the trees. It’s warm and inviting instead of cold and gloomy.

“We need a home. Not a prison.” Buir had said.

You wince, face contorting in pain at the memory of him sharing the design with you. He had a dream. He wanted to live the way he used to, on Mandalore. Embracing nature and training warriors in the traditional way. He wanted your small tribe to grow into the hundreds. And that it did, well, to just over a hundred at least.

The most recent tribe came in from Nevarro, about seven months ago. He’d managed to track them down and get into contact with their Alor. Though some members of their tribe were reluctant to merge- they always are- they soon decided to join forces with your own, strengthening your numbers. Plus, they got to move to a much more beautiful, safe, and spacious planet.  

Regrettably, you hadn’t gotten to know many members of the new tribe still. They were...different. Still pleasant from the interactions you’d had with them at least, good sense of humor and all, but they were devoted to the old ways of Mandalore, conservative, reserved, passionate. Most unusually they didn’t arrive with any women in their tribe, aside from their Alor. For some reason odd, universal reason, Mandalorian women were hard to come by. It was a troubling issue that distressed many people in the tribe, in any tribe. It felt like a curse on your people. But this tribe literally had only one. They obviously cherished and admired her immensely, they made her their Alor.

Also, their creed didn’t allow for them to remove their helmets, a drastic difference from the one you had sworn that didn’t even require you wear your armor all the time, though you and most everyone almost always did. You were still Mandalorian; Training, honor, armor...they were still as big a part of you as your soul was to your body. But everyone around here knew your face, and vice versa, even if you did spend most of your life behind the shield.

This week however, you couldn't bring yourself to put it on once. Hell, you didn’t even bother with your flight suit. You just stayed locked up in your tiny room all day and night, only leaving when you were forced out by your friends. “It’s for your own good,” they would say. You suppose they were right, but no matter how good of friends they were to you right now, their company seemed to make it all worse.

A part of you wanted Collin, your boyfriend of two years, but he seemed to disappear from sight every time you caught his eye, an action that made your friend, Brie, chase after him in a rage the last time. He had been so blatantly obvious. You were in tears, yet again, mourning your father, yet again, when you caught the flash of his grey armor slip past your crying form in the common room. The hurt you had felt was unimaginable. The betrayal. You know that your relationship was strained as of late, but this, the death of your father, how could he not be around for you? Even if just as a friend?

So here you were. Another sleepless night, another late hour gone by without the noisy comfort of the of the tribe at work. Your head was pounding from the tears, the dehydration and the pain. The kriffing pain.

This time you couldn’t do it. You couldn't stay trapped within the dark walls of your room any longer, quickly pulling on something decent to wear in the late night or early hours of the morning- you didn’t know what time it was- before mindlessly wandering the covert.

Empty. It must be smack in the middle of the night. Well, at least you could sulk freely, allow the tears to escape without worrying about what a blubbering mess you must look like. A part of you was thankful, this was...kind of nice? There was nobody hovering around you. No visors following your every move in pity or concern, waiting to catch you when you break. You did pass one or two guards patrolling the halls, but you avoided them as best you could, hoping to avoid being questioned.

You finally take a moment to sit, hiding yourself beside some phony shrub in the corner. You’ve wandered to the dining hall. You look around, hoping to distract yourself with the silent chatter of the five or so warriors lounging around, probably on break from late night duties. Your eyes finally resting on a group of three of your vods sitting around, talking. They’re from the new tribe, well, most recently new.

You don’t know any of them particularly well, least of all the heavy infantry warrier whose figure commands your attention. He spends most of his time with the higher ups or teaching the foundlings, and you fall somewhere there in the middle. But he’s broad and robust and by maker if he doesn't captivate your attention.

You listen to the quiet echoes bouncing around the spacious dining hall. There’s hardly anybody here, it must be so early. You groan, to you it just feels unbearably late.

You don’t know how long you sit here, hidden behind the leaves of the plant, hazy eyes focused on the blue warrior. You just sit, staring, he’s...peaceful to observe. His arms are crossed over his chest, leaned back comfortably against his chair.  He huffs at something one of his brothers says, you can barely hear it, but you see the shake of his shoulders before he adjusts his posture and a small smile pulls at your own lips for some reason.

You shake your head. Is this wrong? You think, averting your eyes away from Paz’s form. You feel guilty for some reason, you mind reminding you of Collin. The guilt impacts you painfully for a moment, adding to the feelings of loss and exhaustion before you shake the thoughts away.

No. You think, eyes squeezing shut at the new wave of emotion hurting your already distraught mind. I’m just people watching. Not admiring. This is allowed. This actually feels...kind of nice, it’s allowed.

You permit your gaze to return to Paz and his friends, watching them nod at another couple of Mandos who pass by.

There was something so...comforting about Paz. You don't even know how you can think that? You don’t know him.

You watch his attention shift to his boots which are sprawled out in front of him, heels resting on the hard floor. He kicks his feet out a little bit, watching them wiggle from their movements. His action again tugging the teeniest of smiles to your lips.

You feel a small and brief glimmer of warmth in your chest, though quickly replaced by a pain that pinches from your gut to the back of your throat. Tears gloss over your vision before you’re able to fight them away with slow, deep breaths. It feels as though your body is chastising you for daring to feel a degree of happiness so suddenly.

No. You cower away from the invisible being hurting you, eyes squinting shut again.

You yearn for the slight relief and warmth to return. You need it. It just...feels so damn hard to breathe like this.

The anxiety, the fear, the distress. It just won’t leave you alone.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until you’re already out in the open. You’d abruptly stood from your hiding spot and started walking toward the source of relief, before nearly choking on air realizing what you were doing.

Holy shit, you gasp, It’s too late to stop walking. You’re already out in the open, and you’ve made it well into their field of vision. If you stop, they’ll notice you.

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff.

The anxiety is burning in your chest again. Your steps falter before you stop, you’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore.

What you do know is that now you’ve caught the attention of the Mando sitting next to Paz, whose visor now watches your frozen form in the middle of the hall. Your heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand there motionless, eyes wide and breathing faltering at having been detected.

You must look absolutely deranged.

But of course, it had to get worse. Noticing the stillness of their friend, the other two shift their attention to see what’s silenced him.

Three visors. There are now three visors on you. Staring down your shaky, frozen form.

You can’t walk this off, you can’t play it cool. They’re already looking at you, you’ve stood still here now watching them for now who knows how long.

What do you do?

Kriff.

You recoil slightly, crossing your now shaking hands in front of you, hoping they wouldn’t notice your trembling palms.

What the hell is wrong with you? Relax. You’re a Mandalorian, just think.

What is the least horrible way out of this?

Carry it out. Whatever it was that you were doing, whatever mission your subconscious had led you on, just execute it.

You breathe in a shuddery breath, placing one foot out in their direction and hesitating before allowing the other to follow its movements.

Geez, walk much?

It’s so quiet in the empty hall, only 5 or 6 other Mandos out on the other end, so each tap of your feet is as audible as that of a bantha on crackling ice as you make your way to them.

“Okay, vod’ika?” One of them asks kindly. You recognize the maroon helmet from up close. Ramsey?

Ramsey, you think.

You nod slightly, suddenly remembering how out of it you must look. Eyes puffy and red, lips swollen, hair in disarray. You feel even more anxious to desert the mission than before, resigning to just get it over with and face the object of your desire.

“Paz,” you say, internally groaning at how pathetic and fatigued your voice sounds. “May I please speak with you for a moment?”

Kriff, what’s the plan now, di’kut?

The question directed at him takes him aback, but his posture instantly straightens. “Of course,” He says, rising from his seat.

You blink back a little as he stands to his full height. Have you ever been this close to him? Surely not, you would remember the feeling of being towered over like this. Paz hesitates, waiting for your instruction. Osik, were you just brazenly sizing him up right there? Great, and now he must think you’re intimidated by him.

Abort, abort, abort.

He tilts his helmet at you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You move for him to follow, which he does. You try to move as far away from the others as possible without being terribly obvious in hopes that they won’t overhear your conversation.

“Is.. everything alright?” He asks once you’ve guided him a safe distance away.

“Yes.” You say instantly, eyes locked on your hands. “I-I mean, n-no.”

This is weird.

What have you done?

You force your gaze up to meet his, noticing his visor tilt in concern. He no doubt already knows what’s troubling you. Everybody in the covert knows about your father’s passing, there was a ceremony for kriffs sake. Paz was probably there.  

Your lip trembles suddenly, embarrassed, and instantly you’re cursing yourself for having put yourself through this. With everything in you, you squeeze your eyes shut and look down, the only way you know you’ll be able to ward off the tears, though you know your conduct is a dead giveaway as to what you’re trying to do.

He says your name, and there it is again, relief. Fleeting and short-lived, but making that one small breath easier to inhale than the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper in frustration. Opening your eyes to see his feet having moved closer to you than they were before.

Always concerned with the wellbeing of his tribe. You remember. That’s what this big brute is known for anyway, right? You can trust him.

“No,” He says, his tone soft spoken, a sharp contrast to his intimidating form. “Take your time.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head at the floor before forcing your eyes up once again.

Always maintain eye contact. It’s a show of respect. And you always show your superiors that you respect them. Your dad's words remind you to keep your head level to Paz’s. Or...at least as level as it can be to Paz’s.

The reminder that you are indeed speaking to an alor’ad stirs up new nerves in your belly, you were falling apart in front of a captain. Worse, a Vizsla, Mandalorian royalty.

“Um,” you eventually sputter out, collecting your thoughts. “Well I...I kind of have a weird request.” Your murmur.

Are you going to faint? It feels like you’re going to faint.

“Okay,” He nods to indicate you have his full attention, “What is it?”

“Um,” Your voice wavers, suddenly feeling very shaky and lightheaded again, and incredibly annoyed that you didn’t just opt to put on your helmet for the sake of hiding your face. Only...it makes it really hard to breathe when you already feel like you can’t get enough air. And pulling it off every five minutes to clean your face of newly gathered tears was difficult.

He says your name again, this time slowly raising a hand to your shoulder. You exhale in relief when you’re met by his touch. “Hey,” He says, “It’s okay, what do you need?”

You take another calming breath, soothed by the weight of his hand that hasn’t left your shoulder. “Well first, are-are you busy today?”

What a stupid question, you think. He ranks high up in the chain of command, of course he’s busy. Not to mention, it’s probably, what, 5 a.m. right now? And he’s sitting in the dining hall. He certainly didn’t wake up this early because he didn’t have something to do.

“Not at all.” He assures with a shake of his helmet.

Sure.

You dismiss the obvious lie, staring his blue visor straight on. You can see your pathetic, teary-eyed reflection staring back at you in the space where his eyes would be.

He wants you to tell him what’s wrong, you remind yourself, just do it.

Using what remaining courage you have, you open your mouth to speak. “I...I know you don’t know me that well. I don’t really...know you either. I-I don't even know why I’m here asking you this right now. But, um,  my-” you choke on your words, confidence diminishing “-my dad is dead, and I’m hurting and afraid and feeling completely unlike myself. I don’t know when the last time I slept was or if I’ve eaten anything in the last couple of days. I just know that-that something really awful has happened to me and I know y-you and I we-we’re practically strangers but right now I just n-need someone and I r-really want that person to be you-”

You hadn’t even realized the flood of tears gushing down your cheeks or the defeated sobs suddenly shaking your body until you were pulled into a pair of arms, his arms.

Strong, protective, shielding arms.

You hear the gentle sounds of Paz shooshing you, his hand pressed to the back of your head and cradling you in a comforting manner.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika.” He hums, voice light and sweet like honey.

You almost don't mind the heavy sobs racking your body for a moment.

Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart.

You feel his body stir above you, either looking around or else...motioning something to someone. “Hey,” He whispers, keeping your head tucked into his arm, “Come over here with me.”

He guides you away from the dining hall where no doubt, despite your best efforts, whoever was in there had both seen and heard you throw your fit. At the very least catching your sobs at the end.

Ushering you around the corner to an empty hallway, he helps you down on a bench, sitting next to you. Your sobs slowly subsiding to small sniffles under the gloved hand moving soothing circles up and down your back.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, allowing you time to gather yourself. Once the wobbliness in your breathing evens out to a calmer, drawn out, pace, he asks again, “What can I do, vod’ika? I’ll help you, just tell me what you need?”

You nod your head, electing not to rub the abused skin around your eyes that was being continuously irritated by tears. “Could you maybe, stay with me today?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” He responds instantly, “Yes, of course. Wh-what would you like to do? How can we...divert your attention?” He attempts to sidetrack the word distract, acknowledging that his word choice probably doesn’t make much a difference. “Is there anything on your agenda today?”

“N-no.” You sniff. “All my responsibilities this week were redistributed to other people. I have nothing to do.”

He hums, considering your words.

“But um,” you offer, “I suppose it would be good to take a shower.” You chuckle lifelessly, tugging at the unwashed ends of your hair.

You see his form tense beside you, and your eyes widen in horror in realising your error.

“O-oh maker, no. I was kidding, cause I’m a mess and all that’s - kriff - that’s not at all what I was insinuating-” You panic, fumbling for words.

He chuckles lowly beside you, raising a hand up to ease your stammering, “No, it’s okay. I understand. Allow me to...escort you then?”

“To the-” You swallow, cheeks no doubt pinkened by the encounter, “You really don’t have to I wasn’t seri-”

“Self-care is important.” He says, rising to his feet. “It’s the start of a new day, and it’s early enough that you’ll likely have the entire washroom to yourself. C’mon,” He extends an arm out to you. You contemplate taking it for a moment, briefly, again, considering Collin.

Who isn’t here.

“Really?” You ask, stunned both by his willingness to wait outside the washroom while you shower and his consideration of your privacy.

He lifts his elbow again in response. You rise from your seated position, hand hesitantly grabbing a hold of his arm as he lowers it back towards his side, making the gesture less obvious to prying eyes.

You hold onto the crease of his elbow, your other hand mindlessly joining your other so that you practically hang onto him. He tugs you forward, and you begin walking at a comfortable pace.

“Thank you,” You say, sounding stunned again. “I...I can’t imagine that when you woke up this morning you thought you’d be babysitting a stranger.” You mumble, embarrassed.

He huffs, “You are not a stranger,” then he says your name, again. Honey, pure honey.

“You are a member of my tribe,” He continues, “Even though we do not know each other well, I still care about you.”

You blink back your surprise at his words. This man truly is honorable. Caring and considerate and selfless. A big brute with an even bigger heart. You can’t stop yourself from looking up at him, nearly gaping at his words. “You care about me?” You ask.

He hums, looking at your wide eyes staring up at him. 

“You don’t even know me.” You mutter as he looks away. You can’t possibly care about someone who you don’t know. 

“I’m observant.”

You hesitate, feeling another foreign feeling flutter in your belly. 

“Observant?” You challenge.

His visor looks back down at you, your puffy eyes swimming with curiosity. You want him to prove it. 

He takes a tentative breath, hoping you’ll allude his suspiciously observant behaviors of you with the fact that he was trained to be hyper aware of his surroundings. He speaks slowly, “Your favorite food is vegetable pie, probably because it’s a main course, but also sweet. You like to busy yourself with your hands, often tinkering with whatever small, broken objects you manage to find around the covert. Every morning, you head to the training room early to run your own drills and stretch before everyone else arrives. You have a boyfriend, Collin I believe, who you like to align your chores with so you can do them together, except for cleaning the kitchens, which you always try to switch off with somebody else.”

Your eyes stare unblinkingly at his profile. “How-how do you know that?”

“Because kitchen duty is always crossed out under your name on the chores chart, and a different chore is always handwritten underneath.” He says, unable to contain an amused laugh. He opts to only remark on the last of his observations.

You slow to a stop, feeling suddenly incredibly ashamed. “Wow,” You say in admiration. “I-”

You can’t think of anything to say in response, you don’t know anything about him. And here he was telling you that not only does he care for you simply as a member of his tribe, but he actually knows things about you.

You’re overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, “Paz- I’m...I’m ashamed to say that I don’t even know what your favorite color is.”

He barks out a laugh, surprising you. “Are you concerned with what my favorite color is, cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” You answer, perhaps a silly amount of gravity. “Upon hearing all the things you know about me that most others don't, I mean I’m...I’m touched Paz.”

His tilts his head, visor lingering on your face a moment, and you’re sure that while it was a somewhat silly conversation, he can see the annoying little pools of water that gathered in your eyes again.

He’s silent for a moment. “My favorite color is brown,” He says.

“Brown.” You reflect.

He nods, “It’s warm, soothing.”

“Okay,” You say, hand reaching for his elbow again. “Brown. I’ll remember that.” You squeeze his sleeve in promise.

“I’m sure you will,” He smiles. Or at least you think he does. It sure sounds like he does.

You continue walking on in silence, only passing one other vod in the spacious hall. You’re fairly certain that the Mando approaching does a double take as he sees you clinging to the heavy infantry warrior, but Paz just gives him a nod as you pass in silence. It’s still terribly early. Or late, to you at least. For it to be early you would have had to have slept in the first place.

Your pace is slow, and you wonder if Paz notices the utter exhaustion plaguing your body.

Oh. He must, you think upon catching a reflection of yourself.

Kriff, you look about as good as you feel.

He stops outside your room so you could run in and bag some clothes, before you venture down to the washrooms. You walk comfortably in silence, despite having enjoyed some distracting conversation with him, it feels like the most you’ve spoken all week, and it was tiring, though not unpleasant.

“Could I, ask you something?” He hesitates, clearing his throat. Noting that you keep your eyes glued to the space in front of your feet. “Where is your...uh, Collin?”

He should be doing this. Paz reflects. Taking care of you.

You raise your eyebrows at the floor. “Sleeping I’m sure.”

“Well yes,” He says, “But why hasn’t he been, you know...around?”

His brows furrow at his own words. Well done Paz, you di’kut. First the poor girl’s dad dies, then you offend her by asking why her boyfriend hasn’t been taking care of her. Let alone the fact that you just made it known you’ve noticed his absence. That did not come out at all how he wanted it to.

He’s surprised by a little laugh emitting from your lips. Small and half-hearted and barely audible, but by maker if even then it isn’t one of the prettiest sounds he ever heard.

“Cause..” you sigh, searching for the answer. “-cause he’s an asshole.” You mutter, blunt as the truth leaves your lips.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have overstepped-”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, “what’s one more thing in my life..”

Paz is silent for a moment. You’re surprised your eyes haven't welled with tears again. Lately it seems like they prefer looking through a blurry lens rather than a clear one. But maybe a part of you expected this with Collin. Your relationship isn’t what it used to be. For the last six months it seems as though his interest in you has slowly diminished. It takes having something fun and interesting for him to seem excited about spending time with you. Cause maker forbid anytime you try to just sit and hang out with him you enjoy yourselves, he’s always got some excuse on hand to get him out of it.

“No,” Paz insists, interrupting your ruminations. “I’m sorry. Perhaps he thought space is what you wanted?”

I think space is what he wanted.

You don’t answer, arriving to the washrooms. Being the only two people in at this hour, the echo of his heavy armor clinks around the wide space. You pass door after door of the enormous shower rooms. Kriff, this is weird. Why was the first thing you thought of when he asked you what you would normally do to shower? I mean sure that was true, but certainly you could have forgone this item on your agenda for the sake of being...proper?

You glance at your passing figure in a mirror and flinch.

Although.

Maybe you...need a shower.

You must have showered within the last few days, right?

“Okay,” Paz says, breaking the silence. “I’ll wait out here.” He says, standing in the communal space with sinks and benches. “You just, take your time vod’ika. Let the water...freshen you up or, soothe you or..some shit.”

Your frown abruptly turns into a wide smile as you giggle.

Victory. He thinks.

His breath hitches behind his own helmet. Kriff, you have a lovely smile. How had he never noticed your smile before?

“Thank you, Paz.” You say, retreating to a random facility and briskly closing the door.

You lean against the door once it’s shut, the ghost of a smile still on your cheeks.

He’s really just going to stand out there. Just so that you know he’s there, that you’re not alone.

“Wow.” You whisper, soaking in the warm feeling in your stomach. It feels like forever since you’ve felt that, giddiness.

You move to turn on the water, slowly stripping yourself of your clothes. You were still wearing your nightshirt from your fruitless sleep endeavors. It was nothing indecent, just a plain, black, elbow-length shirt. Luckily, you had had enough sense in you to pull on a sports bra before you abandoned any notions of sleep, lazily just slipping on some green cargo pants over your leggings before wandering aimlessly through the covert.

You look comfortable but...certainly not like a fierce Mandalorian.

You try your hardest to wash the gloom off your face, focusing your attention on the mission at hand in hopes of keeping distracted. Now you remember why you’d been putting off showering. For some reason, whenever you’re buried under the protective warmth of the loud, secluded shower, at least since it happened, you started to-

The first sniffle comes before you sense its approach, and within seconds your body is shaking in silent sobs.

“Shit.” You whisper.

Pull it together, it’s okay, just breathe. Paz is out there, you don’t want him to hear you.

Your tears blend together with the water running down your body from the shower, making it impossible to discern what is the result of your own pain and what procured it.

You let out a silent whimper, quiet enough that thankfully, you’re sure Paz couldn’t have heard.

Breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay.

No. I’m not okay.

I’m all alone.

“Stop it.” You scold yourself harshly, your soft breath echoing only in your ears.

You are not alone.

Someone is here for you.

Paz. Paz dropped everything to take care of you.

He’s right outside that door, waiting for you.

You take another moment to compose yourself, allowing the last few suds to wash down your form before turning the water off. You quickly dry yourself off and pull on your change of clothes, now wearing a blue sweater and leggings. You didn’t even bother bringing a flight suit. What’s one more day of not suiting up. But at least you’ve still got your boots.

You walk to the mirror, sighing once you get a good look at yourself.

Great.

Swollen, red, angry eyes stare back at you with a red nose to match.

Fuck. You shove all your things back into the sack, giving your hair a final few shakes with the towel before moving towards the door.

It swings open, and you’re met with the sight of Paz leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed, one foot propped up against the wall. His visor turns in your direction as you emerge from the chambers. He hmphs, observing your appearance.

“What?” You ask, hesitating to step closer.

“I like the color.”

You look down at your sweater, unknowingly having sported a blue in the exact same shade as his armor. You hide your gaze in your chest, mumbling a half-amused, “Oh.”

“It signifies reliability, did you know that?” He asks.

You still don’t meet his gaze, but smile. Makes sense.

“It is very fitting for you.” He finishes.

You finally look up at him. For you? He believes you to be reliable? “Oh, th-thank you.” You stutter, feeling truly flattered by his compliment.

His visor tilts silently back and forth on your features as you step up at him. He notices your freshly irritated eyes.

“Are you-”

“-it’s nothing.” You interrupt, shaking your head.

“I um,” You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to lighten the mood with an obviously forced smile. “I tend to emerge from showers with angry eyes, at least, as of late.”

Paz’s hand surprises you as it reaches up, gently cupping your elbow, so swiftly you’re not even sure he meant to do it.

“Not angry, mesh’la,” He mutters, “sad.”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, not having expected such a remark from him. He seems slightly distressed by his own slip of the tongue as well, immediately tensing.

His mind is reeling, guilt flooding over him like a tidal wave in a storm. He feels as though he crossed a line. He’s supposed to be caring for you, distracting you, not calling you beautiful when you already belong to someone else.

“I’m-”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Both your gazes snap up in the direction of the source.

Standing under an archway, halfway between the entrance of the washrooms and you, is Collin.

Your breath hitches, “Collin.” You breathe out.

Paz’s hand jerks instantly from your elbow, hanging tensely by his side.

Collin says your name questioningly, taking another step towards you. He’s wearing his armor, but his helmet hangs down by his side. Blonde eyebrows furrowed suspiciously at the two of you.

“I said,” he repeats, “what is going on in here?”

“Nothing.” You say instantly, taking a step away from Paz.

Well that was a suspiciously guilty maneuver.

Collin eyes Paz for a moment, whose form hasn’t moved even an inch since Collin interrupted you both. He closes the distance between the two of you, but still stays a generous space away.

“What are you doing down here at this hour?” He questions, eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

“I..I couldn’t sleep.” You say.

“Again?”

Again? Your father died not one week ago, does he really expect you to be sleeping soundly?

“Yes it’s- been difficult to find the right headspace for rest.” You answer. “I thought perhaps a warm shower would help alleviate the uneasiness.”

His eyes flick to Paz before quickly landing back on your own, suddenly morphing his face into one of concern. His posture loosens slightly and he reaches towards you, showing you more affection than he has in months. “Well, are you okay? You don’t look very good.” Collin says.

Your frown deepens, suddenly you feel very offended. 

“Yeah? Well I look the way I feel, wise guy.” You snap, startling both of you by your outburst. His hand retreats from your space, moving to clench and unclench by his side.

“I’m sorry,” He scoffs after taking a tense breath, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Collin-” Paz’s voice breaks his role as an audience member to your discussion, polite but still warning in his tone.

“-No, I am not speaking to you.” Collin spits out, “I’m speaking to my girlfriend. My girlfriend who you were getting awfully close to in the privacy of this empty washroom.”

Your heart is thumping in your chest. He’s right, this certainly was not a good look. It was highly irregular for you to be up so early. And here you were alone at an ungodly hour with a man who wasn’t your partner. Kriff, how could you be so stupid? You should have known that Collin would stumble in here at this time, he does early morning flight training every week, today must be his lesson. It must have slipped your mind, or maybe you’d forgotten his schedule. Had he even shown you his schedule?

No. No, he hadn’t. When was the last time you even saw him? Surely a few times a day but had you even shared a moment of substance together since the funeral? You’ve gone to him for comfort yet you can’t remember how any of those interactions went. He dismissed you, or offered you a peck on the forehead before changing the subject.

Come to think of it, how dare he come in here angry with you for anything. If anything, you should be the one who’s angry. Paz was right, where has he been?

“You’re right.” Paz says, shocking you and Collin both, your gaze quickly snapping in his direction. “I shouldn't have reached for her. But I was only trying to comfort her, I swear to you that is all. Regardless, you need to relax.” He speaks calmly, the warning back in his tone.  

Collin huffs, taking a menacing step in Paz’s direction. He always was arrogant. 

Your eyes widen, “Collin-”

He rasps out his next words in with a snarl, cutting off your attempt to de-escalate the situation. “Listen here, vod-” He spits, but not before being cut off by a startling quick grab to the front of his chest plate, yanking him forward.

Collin’s heels barely graze the floor as he looks directly up at Paz’s visor, who seems to have grown another six inches, the two quite literally helm to helm.

“You do not address me as your vod in such a manner of disrespect.” Paz growls, his voice sending a harsh shiver down your spine, slightly in alarm, slightly in...something else.

Your breath hitches, frozen as you watch the scene unfold. If you’re too frightened to move, you can’t imagine how Collin feels. Although...maybe a small part of you wishes you did.

“Jare’la,” Paz scoffs, shaking his head. “I am your alor’ad. And I do not tolerate a lack of respect. If you are confused about your place, then I will gladly show you where it is. Tayli’bac, vod?” He spits the words out menacingly, challenging Collin to oppose his authority.

“Elek! Elek, alor’ad!” Collin stammers, “N’eparavu takisit!”

Paz huffs, visor staring Collin down a moment longer before releasing him, shoving him back in the process.

He stumbles to catch himself, grabbing onto the side of the sink for leverage. You’ve never seen him look so...cowardly.

He looks to you, taking a moment to gather himself. Your eyes are still wide, mouth agape as you just stare at him in disbelief. He wets his lips with his tongue, seeming to swallow down another remark, eyes darting to Paz before returning to you. “So, that’s the way it is, huh?”

You’re speechless, “I- I don’t..”

You contemplate the severity of the moment, what’s at stake. Your silence is answer enough, you decide, before opting to look down, relinquishing your chance to speak. With it goes your willingness to explain, to try and salvage whatever pathetic excuse of a relationship you thought you had had with him. “I’m sorry, Collin.” You say, unsure of the words as they leave your mouth.

You hear only the sound of heavy breathing. Two sources of heavy breathing, and neither of them are coming from you. Then, a sound akin to that of a growl. You look up to face him again, only to see his focus on the man beside you. Paz looks back at him, unmoving, domineering, daring him to overstep.

Was Collin challenging you, or Paz?

Was Paz simply defending you or...challenging Collin? And for what?

You feel another spike in anxiety, suddenly feeling as though you were observing a mating duel, a challenge over possession of a lioness, a female...not...terribly uncommon in Mandalorian culture, though nonetheless offensive.

“That’s enough.” You whisper, though with enough exertion to be heard by both males.

You see Paz’s visor turn to face you out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t move, keeping your gaze averted to Collin.

He stares Paz down for another moment before meeting your eyes, saying your name with a stiff nod, and uttering a “Goodbye,” before briskly leaving the room.

You let out an exhale once he’s rounded the corner, catching your breath. That was it.

You’ve lost him.

You stare at the empty door, at the ghost of the shadow where he once stood, waiting for the tears to fall. You feel heavy, you feel distressed, but perhaps not anymore than you already had. There’s not a swirl of emotion in your gut nor rising in your throat that compels tears to swim in your eyes again.

You hear your name being called once, twice. The third time, you look up, much higher up than you’d expected to, at the imposing figure now standing directly above you.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly.

You hold his gaze, watching your reflection blinking up at him. He doesn’t move, waiting for your response to his question. Your gaze drifts down slightly and to the side, staring at the plain wall behind him, before reconcentrating your focus.

“What um,” Your voice comes out somewhat both hoarse and mellow, quiet as you continue, “What should we do next?”

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

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Paz was guilt ridden. Surely he could have let the little brat mouth off to him one time to spare you from getting hurt. But no, he just had to go and threaten the kid right in front of you. It was just instinctual. He would have done it without restraint any other time to any other member stepping out of line, but upon reflection, maybe the whole thing was his fault. Collin had walked in on you two nearly close enough to embrace. Of course he was pissed. And then, he degraded him, ordering him into submission right in front of your eyes.  

You didn’t blame him. Not in the slightest. I mean, what did Collin expect? He straight up challenged the alor’ad. It was foolish and insulting, and quite honestly Paz wouldn’t have been out of line to clock him then and there. But you suppose he was holding himself back for the sake of your wellbeing, not wanting you to watch your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - get pounded on while you were already in such a state.

“Yes.” You say, emitting a heavy exhale. You really were.  

The halls have started filling with armored warriors, the covert finally beginning to come to life with a sunrise shining through the trees and early risers popping up.

“Vizsla!” Someone shouts, the two of you turn to see Stephan jogging towards you.

“Hey,” He says, walking once he reached a comfortable earshot, “We missed you on that perimeter run. Was surprised you didn’t show up, is everything-?”

His voice trails off, visor finally ticking in your direction. He seems a little taken aback by your presence, or rather that you were within Paz’s company.

“Vod’ika,” He finally says. “What are you doing with- uh, I mean, how are you?”

“What am I doing with Paz?” You smile, “You don’t think I could handle a perimeter run, Steph?”

His helmet ticks back in surprise at your banter, “N-no, vod’ika.” He says, looking at Paz and huffing in amusement. “We’ll gladly have you join us on the next one.”

“Sure.” Paz nods.

“So…” Stephan continues with uncertainty, “How-how are you?”

Couldn’t make it thirty seconds in without having that question thrown out at you.

You hesitate, the frown slowly returning to your face. Should you answer truthfully? Lie? How are you? 

“I’m…”

You seem stuck on the word. Did you choose a word? What word are you even looking for?

You’re still talking. You remind yourself.

Shit, now you look like you’ve shut down.

You feel a hand rest on your back, blinking forward from your gaze that had somehow been drawn down towards Stephans boots.

“We were just heading to the kitchens.” Paz responds, you tilt your face in his direction without raising your eyes, keeping them glued to the space in front of you, ashamed.

“Okay, yeah.” Stephen says hastily, “Well, uh, Jay made some really good morning muffins, vod’ika, and they’re still warm I bet.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, offering a pitiful smile, “I’m sure.”

Poor Stephan, it’s not his fault you were like this. He’s just checking in on you, and here you are making him feel bad for asking about your wellbeing. It’s just a question.

Kriff, why are you so weak?

You conceal yourself back in your thoughts, sure that you look absent with glazed over eyes. But you can't bring yourself to care. That’s the weird thing about feeling so desolate, you just don’t have the energy to hide it sometimes.

You hear the foggy exchange of words between the two warriors, simply choosing to retract yourself from the conversation and instead focus your attention on the gloved hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Stephan’s modulator rises to a more upbeat tone before stepping forward and offering Paz a light slap on the arm as he passes, evidently dismissing the two of you to carry on with your business.

Paz’s form shifts to watch Stephan leave before turning to you. “Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.” You nod.

He hums, sounding unconvinced as he lightly nudges you forward again, letting his hand drop from its place on your jumper.

No... come back.

You walk side by side in silence, trying to get him to walk a step ahead of you so you can follow. But anytime your step falters purposefully to give him the lead he slows his own, silently insisting you walk side by side. Instead, he steers your direction with fleeting contacts. A hand pulling your arm, his gloved fingers tapping your shoulder. You’re happy to let him guide you, appreciating the delicate touches in direction.

Feeling a sliver of life breathed into you at each one.

The touches stop far sooner than you need them to upon arrival to your destination. You notice you’re heading towards the mess hall again, feeling discomfort at the idea of seeing more of your vods, or worse, having a repeat of your public meltdown you’d had just a few short hours ago.

You’re more alert now, having picked up on the light buzzing from the dining hall. There’s probably quite a few people out there now. And you’re not sure you’re ready to face another wave of concerned and attentive brothers and sisters.

“Paz-” You say, ready to object, but not before you’re steered off to the side, scarcely missing exposure to the hall full of bustling Mandalorians.

Instead, Paz opens a door and gestures for you to walk through, which you do.

Oh. The kitchen.

You’ve been in here many times, but not often during the day. Jay keeps a tight lockdown on the kitchen, only allowing his apprentice to be in here during the working hours of the covert. He’s got a considerable number of Mandalorians to feed, yet he prefers to tackle the challenge alone. Usually kicking anyone out who pops in to help, scolding them for messing up his rhythm.

He has no problem allowing people to make their rounds of kitchen duty though, but that only consists of cleaning up the space once it’s shut down for the night. Mopping, washing, organizing...he tends to lock up all the good treats and hide away the key, making the task totally not worthwhile for you.

Of course, being the daughter of the unsanctioned Alor and all, you had special privileges. One of them being you could hang around the kitchen without Jay kicking you out every time. He still did, but he gave you more leeway than the others if you stayed out of his way and only snacked on the scraps he wasn’t saving.

The door swings shut behind you and you round the corner, the clink of your armored warrior just behind you.

Whoa, whoa. You stop yourself. Your?

You catch sight of a red Mandalorian viciously attending to something on the stove. “What are you two doing in here?” Jay shouts over his shoulder, turning back to his frying.

Paz looks around the empty kitchen, “I heard a rumor about morning muffins.” The deep rumble of his voice saying the words prompts a breathy giggle from your lips, catching his attention, before he continues to glance around for the treats.

Jay huffs, motioning with his wooden spoon to the corner, “Over there. Take one and get out.”

“Thanks,” Paz says, his hands lightly resting on your shoulders from behind and nudging you forward. “Nice attitude.” He mumbles for your ears, an amused smile still lingering on your lips.

“Nice signet.” Jay scoffs, evidently having heard, “Or lack thereof.”  

“Nice apron.”

“Okay- get out of my kitchen.” Jay says, looking up from his dicing.

You surprise yourself by letting out a lively laugh. Paz’s hands tighten over your shoulders at the sudden sound, feeling damn near enamored by Jay for having caused it.

He looks to Jay and gives him a grateful nod, who nods slightly in return, so as not to be caught by your gaze, before returning to his work.

You make your way to the tray of muffins in the corner, boldly sitting down on the couch in front of the fire. Exactly where you and your dad would sit and enjoy the freshly baked cookies or cake made by Jay that morning, the small area being off limits to everyone else in the covert.

Paz is certain Jay would have snapped at them to get away from his personal space if it weren’t for you. You’re sat next to him, gazing at the fire that Jay lights every morning to warm the frigid kitchen.

“For you.” Paz says, handing you a small muffin with a napkin wrapped protectively around it.

You smile at him, accepting the gesture, just allowing it to slowly warm up your fingers in your lap. The movements of the fire captivating your attention as the flames dance in the soft lighting.

“Cyar'ika.” He says softly, the word sending a shiver down your spine. “You really ought to eat something.”

You look to your side again, taking in Paz’s appearance on the tiny couch. Its small size having forced you to sit right up against each other. The leg closest to you is propped up and over the other comfortably, his knee resting elevated slightly above your own.

You wonder if you clink your knee against his own if his hand will slip off it and land on yours.

A silly thought, you think, amusing yourself.

His tilting visor alerts you that you’ve been shamelessly gawking at him. Twice in one day.

“I- um,” You stutter, averting your gaze. “I’m not terribly hungry, Paz.”

He hums, “Well it’s a good thing you’re not terribly hungry because all you’ve got there is a teeny muffin.”

“Yes, it would appear so.” You smile, still making no movement to eat it.

Paz breathes in a slow, contemplative sigh. Guilt starts to flood your senses again, he’s done so much for you today, why can’t you just do this one thing for him?

“Tell you what,” he offers, your eyes rising to meet his visor, “You eat that muffin, maybe have a little bit of tea, and I’ll tell you about the time your vod and I went to Jabba’s Palace.”

Your eyes widen, and you boldly swing your hand down to grasp his arm as you straighten. “The Hutt story?” You choke. “You’ll tell me the Hutt story?”

Paz’s modulator rumbles as he chuckles, knowing he’s got you entrapped by a golden exchange.

He nods, “I’ll tell you the untold and widely sought-after story about the time Devin and I went to visit the Hutts-”

“-Deal!” You squeeze his arm, still gripping tightly from earlier.

“Yeah,” Jay utters, his looming figure now standing directly behind you both, “Kriffing deal.”  

“Get out of here.” Paz huffs, shoving Jay back over the arm of the couch. He doesn’t argue, but you see his retreating form adjust the volume settings on his vambrace.

Paz shifts back cheekily with his arms spread around the couch. He gestures to the uneaten muffin on your lap, waiting for you to uphold your end of the deal.

You sigh, unwrapping the baked good. But the thrill of getting to know the story that caused such an uproar in the covert shoo’s away the discomfort, replacing it with a slightly giddy feeling.

You take a bite, looking at him expectantly. He just scoffs, gesturing again to the tiny muffin in your hand. “C’mon, that thing is like the size of a whistle bird, you finish that before you get the story,” He says, with much emphasis on the “before.”

Fair.

You down the muffin faster than you thought you could, much too excited to finally hear the secret tale. You were going to have bragging rights around this place forever. Paz shakes his head at you, lightly laughing, “So that’s all it takes, huh?” He nods to the empty napkin in your hand.

You ignore him, knowing he knows full well the value of this information. Whatever it was that happened when those two visited Jabba’s Palace, Devin had come back damn near afraid of his own shadow. It took months for him to pull himself together. Your vod would literally jump at the sound of an egg cracking open, reaching for his blaster and slipping up on his grasp. It was kriffing hysterical to you and everyone else in the tribe. And you assumed you weren’t really being malicious. Paz had been there too and returned unscathed, and laughed all the same. And even though he teased Devin to no end about it, he swore he’d never tell a soul what happened, so up until this point, nobody knew what it was. But here you were.

Paz turns over his shoulder, “Hey Jay,” He says politely. “How about a cup of tea for your vod’ika?”

“What am I your maid?” Jay retorts.

“You are the cook.”

Jay mutters something under his breath, but you don’t pay him any mind, having heard him fill up a pot of water immediately upon Paz’s request.

You avert your gaze from Paz’s helmet as soon as he turns to face you again. You look to the fire, biting your lip as a smile slowly grows on your face. It crosses your mind that you feel not only okay in this very moment but actually...happy. The fleeting moments of relief you’ve been feeling all morning, small moments of peace jumbled in with all the sadness and the anxiety, were all because of him. This man who you did not even know three hours ago. Who let you cry in his arms, who stood guard outside the washroom while you showered, who defended you, called you sweetheart, made sure you knew he was always there with you. The same man who now sat next to you on the couch you weren’t allowed to sit on in a kitchen you weren’t allowed to be in. Your smile grows wider, and in your peripheral you’re very aware of his visor still staring at you.

“What?” Paz chuckles.

“Nothing.” You giggle, tears gathering in your eyes. But for the first time today, first time all week, forming not in pain but in relief.

“What is it?” He insists, still playful in his tone. His knee nudges you as if to prompt a response.

A tear slips down your cheek and he leans forward instinctively, his hand finding yours in your lap without hesitation. “Mesh’la, what is it?” He asks again, this time void of all silliness, concerned.

You shake your head, your small smile still present, but certainly reflecting more of the emotion you were feeling.

You place your other hand on top of his own that covers yours, trapping his gloved fingers in your two hands, before looking up at him.

“Just, thank you Paz.” You say, admiration and gratitude dripping from your voice.

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

He likes your voice, he decides, it sounds so sweet, like pure honey.

His eyes are lost in yours behind the visor, watching another tear slip down your delicate cheek. He can hear the relief in your voice. The pure relief and admiration. Admiration? Do you feel admiration for him? He sure hopes you do, otherwise you might find it weird that he’s staring at you for so long. Kriff, he should stop staring at you. But look at those eyes. Those wonderfully expressive eyes that aren’t looking angry or sad or pained, but warm. He feels ensnared by your gaze, a light smile trailing your features, a sprinkle of tears sliding down your cheeks. He watches one slip down the shape of your cheek, rounding your nose and lips before forming a teardrop on your chin. He watches it glisten, unable to bear letting it fall. Mindlessly, he raises a gloved finger to catch it.

Your breath hitches at the contact, and his finger hovers under your jaw before sliding up to catch another.  

Your eyes flit back and forth along the dark shade of his visor, searching, wondering what his eyes look like, head tilting unconsciously into his glove.

He takes the gesture as permission, slowly lifting his thumb, his palm, his whole hand up against your cheek.

You both feel suspended, his hand frozen caressing your cheek. Your eyes have dried up now, carrying a glow of wonder in them. His head tilts slowly and unknowingly to the side, almost like he can’t hold up the weight of his helmet a second longer.

The sound of approaching footfalls brings you back to reality, Paz’s hand drops from your cheek and your faces turning towards the source that dared to interrupt your moment.

“Geez, no need to cry about it, I’ve got your tea.” Jay quips, perfectly deescalating the tension of the moment. Making it a point to show you he was minding his own business.

“Um, thank you.” You mutter, still coming back to the present.

“It’s sleepytime tea.” Jay says, “Ground with dandisonyl.”

“Dandisonyl?” You ask, more alert, “That stuff is rare and expensive.”

“And strong.” Paz huffs.

“And expensive.” You insist again, looking down at your tea. “Jay, why would you waste this on me?”

He leans down against his forearms, now looming over your shoulders. His smug nature radiating off his posture alone, “Now, and this is just an observation, but you look kriffing tired. And that there,” He gestures to the cup of earthy smelling tea you’ve placed on the table in front of you, “That’s sleepytime tea. And you, vod’ika, of all people, look like you need some serious, quality, sleepytime.”

His statement ends with a pinch to your cheeks, and it’s your turn to aggressively shove him backward, causing Paz to let out a sweet laugh.

“Paz,” You say, looking to the only superior present, “He wasted good, expensive herbs on me. That stuff can be used medicinally.” You say with reprimand in your voice.

Paz surprises you by shrugging, “He kind of did use it medicinally.”

“Oh, alor’ad.” You chastise, using his official title to remind him of his role here.

He shrugs, using his whole body for the movement, before picking up your cup and placing it back in your hands. “I suppose you’re right, alor’ika.” He teases, “So you’d better drink it all so as not to let it go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the tea. With your nose nestled into the cup you miss the silent exchange of approval Paz gives Jay.

Readjusting your position so that you’re facing the fire again, you turn your head towards Paz, taking another sip of your tea, it is surprisingly good. “Get on with the story then.” You command, grinning at your victory.

“Okay.” Paz says, grunting as he adjusts himself to sit comfortably once again on the small couch, opting this time to keep one arm swung over behind your head. You smile in content, looking down sheepishly at your tea and having a bit more.

“Well, it all started on the ship. I mean before we even got to Tatooine. Devin, being the utreekov that he is, forgot to bring the kriffing-...”

You listen intently to his story. He’s using his hands as he talks, passionate and perhaps a little dramatic. He’s taking extra care to include all the details, probably indulging in the fact that you and, undoubtedly, Jay, are paying him your absolute, undivided attention. You sip at your tea, the taste warm and comforting alongside Paz’s sweet voice. Your eyes are getting heavier, and you blink at the burning feeling stinging your eyes from the light of the fire, deciding that you’ll be able to listen better with your eyes closed, and gently placing the empty mug on the table.

“So, finally we get to Jabba’s palace. And Devin’s already a nervous wreck after that encounter with the Trandoshans, and-”

His voice carries a hint of thrill in it. You wonder if he feels exhilarated in finally getting to tell this story. Your lips twitch slightly, content that he’s trusting you with it. 

Feeling heavier on one side, you allow your head to swing slightly in his direction, snuggling more into the embrace of the couch.

You notice his words trailing off, realizing you weren't paying much attention. Hearing only the sounds of the crackling fire in front of you, you slowly force your eyes open.

Paz’s head is turned down as much as it can in his position. And though you can’t see his visor, you’re certain he’s staring at you.

“Keep talking.” You mutter, resting your head back again.

You hear the sweetest breath of a chuckle sound from beneath his helmet, which you suddenly realise you're very near to. “Close your eyes again.”

“No, I wanna listen to the story.” You mumble, your low energy blending the words together.

“You can only evade sleep for so long sweetheart.”

“We’ll see.” You challenge, eyes fluttering closed against your will.

“Yes, we will.” He whispers. He’s silent another moment, admiring you and your peaceful expression with a smile on his face before carrying on with the story, speaking much more softly than before. The light humming of his voice is soothing, and you notice it growing quieter and quieter, yet the feelings of security and warmth and relief all stay with you.

Paz looks towards the fire as he speaks, trying to draw out the story as long as he can. He feels the light weight of your head resting against his shoulder, not daring to move a muscle and disturb your peaceful slumber.

It’s still early in the morning. Behind the fireplace and through the density of the thick wall, Paz can hear the covert coming to life. And while their days are just starting, yours has finally come to a peaceful end. He listens to your serene breathing through the long pauses he takes in his story, knowing that really, he’s only telling it to Jay now, who notably moves through the kitchen swiftly and with as little clicking and clanking as he can muster.

“-And so, that’s what happened on Tatooine.” Paz whispers, looking at your parted lips and lightly closed eyelids.

The fire casts a harmonious glow on your face, making your features look warmer, livelier, serene.

You look utterly angelic.

He remembers how you crumbled in his arms not five hours ago, pained and distressed and lonely. You sought him out even though you didn’t know him, not knowing how much he’d admired you from afar. To see your normally light and radiant face masked with such despair, he couldn’t bear to see it again.

He watches your sleeping form take a staggering breath, your body relaxing into its position, nudging your face further into where it fell on his shoulder. He dares to let the arm wrapped around the couch lower slightly, so that it rests comfortingly around your form.

“Sleep, cyar’ika,” He whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He hopes his silent promise is enough to soothe your sleeping form, listening to your breathing even out to a more peaceful rhythm.

“I’ll be here for as long as you need.”

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

Translations:

Alor - chancellor Vod’ika - little sister Osik - shit Di’kut - idiot Jare’la - stupidly oblivious of danger / asking for it. Alor’ad - captain Tayli’bac, vod? - Do you understand, mate? (menacing) Elek! Elek, alor’ad! - Yes! Yes, captain! N’eparavu takisit! - I’m sorry (lit. I eat my insult) Alor’ika - little leader Utreekov - fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)

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

a/n two: They both think the other person’s voice sounds like pure honey.. 🥺

also we need more Paz x reader content on Tumblr my dudes. 

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

Taglist: @wandsmith​ 💖

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - John Watson x Reader - Better Late Than Never - Words: 2,679

A/N: This was the prompt: Reader went to med school with John, she liked him but never told him so. John gets deployed and they lose contact. A few years later they meet again because of a case.

"C'mon, Y/N," John laughed. "If you don't study for the test tomorrow, I won't give you the ice cream I bought!" 

"Is it Death By Chocolate?" You replied, raising your head only slightly from it's spot on the floor. 

"Maybe," He replied with a smirk. The two of you were in your dorm, trying to study for the quarter finals. You were in your 6th and final year of med school. You'd met about halfway through your 2nd year and had instantly become close friends. Small displays of affection were normal between the two of you, the type that best friends would share without giving a second thought. John didn't have a clue, but you had developed quite the crush on him. You never told him, though, for fear of messing up the one good friendship you had. 

"John!" You groaned, dramatically sprawling out further on the carpet. "I think my brain has died." You had been trying to remember everything you'd studied and were coming up blank. 

"Hm, I'm studying to be a doctor, not a coroner, but I would say time of death was somewhere between 6 years ago and now," He teased, leaning over you from his nearby perch on your futon. Pretending to be mad, you threw your foot up and kicked his leg. 

"You git!" You exclaimed with a grin.

"Oi!" He replied, dramatically tumbling to the floor next to you. You both lost yourselves in a fit of giggles. You stopped laughing and just stared at him when your brain caught up with your eyes and you had one of your "moments". He looked so happy lying there next to you, laughing his head off. His hair was a mess, his jumper had gotten abit twisted and was creeping up his torso, and his eyes were bright with tears of laughter. "You ok, Y/N?" He asked when he noticed you had stopped laughing. 

"Yeah, just thinking," You replied quickly. 

"Ok, as long as it's nothing serious," He said. "Really, if anything is bothering you, you can talk to me. You've been zoning out more often recently so," He looked away, a bit embarrassed. "I was worried."

"I'm fine, John," You replied, not having the guts to tell him what was really on your mind. 

About a year later, only 3 months after graduation, John called you. You still kept in touch, although you lived in different cities now, and your feelings hadn't changed. John had dated a few different girls but nothing ever worked out. You, though? You had gone on one date but left halfway through when the guy wouldn't shut up about himself and asked if you were splitting the check. John had told you he had applied at a small clinic near his apartment so you assumed his call was to update you on that. "Hey!" You said, picking up immediately.

"Uh, hey, Y/N," He said, sounding fairly upset. "Look, I," He sighed. "You remember that I enlisted a few months ago?"

"Yes," You replied, a lump forming in your throat. 

"I've just gotten my deployment letter. They're sending me to Afghanistan. I leave this Friday." Silent tears streamed down your face and you found yourself unable to reply. "Y/N? Are you still there?" He asked.

"Yeah," You choked out. "Yeah, I'm still here, John. I, well, I guess I should wish you well then." You pinched the bridge of your nose and breathed deeply, trying to get ahold of yourself. 

"Look, I know you're not a fan of the military but can't you at least congratulate me? This is something I wanted after all."

"Is it? Is it really?" You nearly yelled. "You didn't sound all that cheery two minutes ago when I picked up the phone! Besides, how could I congratulate you when all I can see is you getting blown to bits out there!"

"Sorry," He replied immediately. "That, that wasn't fair of me to ask." You both were silent for a moment before John spoke up again. "I'll write." 

"Not with that handwriting you won't, " You replied, falling back into your regular banter. 

"I'll try to make it legible for you," He promised. You nodded, though he couldn't see you, and started crying again.

"Alright," You said. "Can I drive over Friday and see you off?" 

"Best not," He said. "I think it's better for both of us, yeah?" You reluctantly agreed. The two of you chatted for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. Shaking off the foreboding feeling that had settled on you, you continued with your day and started planning your first letter to him. 

The first few weeks went well, his letters arriving regularly on Friday's without fail. Then one week it came on Monday instead, the next on Wednesday, and soon two weeks passed without a letter. When you finally received it, he said that they had gotten to a point where it was getting harder and harder to safely send a receive mail. He asked for you to stop all letters and promised to find you again when, or if, he got home. That night you wrote him one final letter but, of course, never sent it. You were determined to move on with life now but you promised yourself to never forget him.

"Good morning, Molly," You said walking into the hospital with her. You'd moved to London and gotten a job at St. Bart's, working in the outpatient clinic. A few weeks after starting there, you'd met Molly while on break. You exchanged numbers and started meeting in the cafeteria if you both had breaks at the same time. In time you met Sherlock. What an experience that had been. He immediately deduced which department you worked in, how long you'd been there, where you went to college, when you went to college and he even figured out that you'd been in love with someone in uni and never got over them. Needless to say, you were impressed. Ever since then he texted you occasionally for confirmation on medical related hypotheses.

"Good morning, Y/N," Molly replied. 

"Have you heard from Sherlock recently? I haven't gotten any texts from him in the past few weeks." Molly chuckled and nodded. 

"I've heard from him. He has a new flatmate. A doctor too!" 

"Wow!" You replied. "Good for him! Let me know next time he comes by so I can meet him. I'd like to know who my replacement is," You teased. Molly giggled and you continued chatting as you walked over to the elevator. As the doors were about to close, you heard someone yell.

"Hold the lift!" You slammed the open doors button and Sherlock ran in. He nodded at you and you let go of the button. The doors started to slide closed again when another person called out.

"Sherlock!" You froze hearing that voice. You tried to get the doors in time but missed.

"Y/N?" Molly asked, worriedly. "Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost!" You nodded and leaned on the wall, trying to get yourself together. You decided to ride up to Molly's floor and see if Sherlock's friend came up on the next lift. Sherlock kept staring at you, confused, while you sat there waiting. A few minutes later, he came storming in the door. 

"Sherlock! What were you thinking? Why didn't you hold the lift for me? I had to wait for the next one which happened to-"

"John," You gasped, amazed that it actually was him standing in front of you. "John!" You exclaimed, jumping up and running over.

"Y/N!" He replied, a grin spreading on his face. His smile faltered quickly though. "I," He said. "I need to be going. I forgot I had an appointment. Yeah. That's it. I'll see you at the flat, Sherlock." John quickly limped out the door and off to the elevator.

"He's the one, isn't he?" Sherlock said after a few moments. You nodded sadly. 

"Why'd he run off like that?" You asked. 

"Well it's obvious he didn't have an appointment. That leaves two possible reasons for his lying. One he could be-"

"Oh shut up, Sherlock!" You cried. "I know why he left. I-" You cut yourself off, choking back a sob. "Just sod it all! I need to go to work. I'll see you at lunch, Molly." You ran off, down the hall and to the elevator. 

"Molly, I know that look in your eyes," Sherlock said once you'd left. "What are you planning?"

"The perfect set up. Now help me-"

"Molly," Sherlock interrupted her. "I may not understand a lot of things related to the topic of human relationships but I can tell you this, if either of us were to get involved, we may be maimed." Molly nodded in agreement.

Weeks went by and you worked harder than ever, taking extra shifts whenever you could. Your boss finally told you to take a week off to recharge. After much arguing, you relented and headed home for a week. Being alone all day, however, left your mind wandering. Thinking back to what might have been. To occupy your time, you decided to catch up with one of your good friends who lived nearby. You hadn't had the chance to hang out in some weeks but you texted each other every day. When you didn't hear from her yesterday, you worried but figured she probably was just tired. "Maybe she'll have some good advice for me," You told yourself. Knocking at her door, you checked your phone again to see if she had replied yet. Now you were really worried. You grabbed your spare key to her apartment and went in. 

"What do you want?" Sherlock said, answering his phone.

"Sherlock, it-it's Y/N. Can you," You paused, taking a shaky breath. "Can you come down here please? I need your help. Lestrade's already on his way."

"On my way," He replied, grabbing his coat and scarf. "What happened?" As you explained to him everything, he grabbed John's coat and tossed it to him. John was mildly confused of course, but went along. 

"I went in and found her in the bathroom," You told him. "I'm probably missing something obvious. I'm sorry," You cried.

"No, you're doing fine," Sherlock said genuinely. John looked at him surprised as they got into the cab, still not aware of who was on the other end of the call. "We'll be there in 7 minutes."

"We?" You asked. But Sherlock hung up before he answered. 

"Y/N?" Greg said, coming up behind you. "I hate to say this but, we're going to need a statement. Do you want to wait till Sherlock gets here?"

"No, it's alright. Let's get it over with." A few minutes later, you'd told Greg everything you knew and he'd gone inside with the others to investigate. A cab pulled up and Sherlock rushed out. "Sherlock!" You exclaimed running up to him. As you approached, you saw another person getting out of the cab. "Why did you bring him?" You hissed.

"He's my assistant, flatmate and, if I have deduced correctly, a friend of both of us," Sherlock said.

"Look, that was years ago, I don't even know if-" You started whisper-yelling. You got cut off though when John walked up. You noticed he was limping again. 

"John," Sherlock said. "I believe you're acquainted with Y/N. You're much better with people than I am," He stated briefly before going into the apartment.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," John said once Sherlock left. You nodded, sitting down on a nearby bench before your legs gave way from exhaustion. 

"She was a good friend of mine. I don't know what could have happened." John was quiet as he sat down next to you.

"Sherlock will figure it out. If anyone can, it's him," He finally said.

"That is for certain," You replied with a dry chuckle. "So how did you meet Sherlock?"

"Oh, well, you remember Mike Stamford?" 

"From uni? Yeah, I remember him."

"Well, he introduced me to Sherlock. We were both in need of a flatmate and he matched us up." John paused for a moment, brows furrowed. "That sounds much too much like a bad dating ad. Mike got us together."

"Nope, that's worse," You replied chuckling.

"You understand."

"I think so," You finally replied. "So," You paused. You were so desperate to ask him more but you weren't sure if this was the best time. "Oh, well, nevermind. Glad that worked out." You quieted again, staring off down the street. John looked at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Right, yes. So, what have you been up to?"

"Work. I got a job at St. Bart's about 2 years ago. That's how I met Molly and therefore Sherlock." You were silent for a moment before adding one more thing. "I've missed you, John."

"I've missed you too," He admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't write or call when I got back. I-" He sighed and absently rubbed at his leg. "I couldn't. I was scared, if I'm being honest."

"Why? What happened?"

"You know we got sent into a very dangerous area. That's why I had to stop writing to begin with. But then, well, I got shot."

"Your leg?" You asked since he had been limping and rubbing at it. 

"Ah, shoulder actually. The limp is psychosomatic. It comes and goes when I'm particularly worried or upset."

"Oh, I'm sorry," You said, not completely sure of what to say.

"I've been back in London for about a year. I looked you up actually. I found out you were working at Bart's. That's why I ran into Mike that day. I was in a park nearby, trying to work up the nerve to go and see you."

"Why didn't you?" You asked. He looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's ok. I should be honest." He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled nervously. "I was afraid of what you'd think of me. I didn't come back as some 'war hero'. I'm a washed up medic who can't even walk correctly."

"It's psychosomatic, right?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Sherlock says so."

Well then, you have nothing to fear." He looked at you questioningly. "You know I never cared about the military so I could honestly care less if you came back known as some 'war hero' or not. You're not washed up, just look at you! Out here solving mysteries with the world's only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes! And you can too walk right! You're just too scared to."

"I'm not so sure-" You interrupted him by leaning over and planting a kiss on his lips. Pulling away with a giggle you got up and ran a few feet away. 

"You'll have to come here to get another!" 

"Oh, you devil," He grinned. He got up and walked over to you quickly, picking you up, spinning you around and giving you another kiss. You laughed happily and leaned on his shoulder. 

"See? You did just fine!" 

"I suppose I did, didn't I?" He chuckled. 

"Oh, John," You giggled. "I should have told you a long time ago. I love you, John Watson." He smiled from ear to ear.

"I love you too, Y/N L/N. But a crime scene isn't really the best place to do this at."

"Why not? We giggle at murders all the time?" Sherlock suddenly butted in.

"How long have you been standing there?" John yelled.

"Well," Greg suddenly said, a few feet away and holding up his phone. "This video is already 4 minutes long, so," He trailed off.

"John," You said, not taking your eyes off the two other men.

"Yes, love?" He asked as you reached for his hand.

"Let's get 'em." You then spent the rest of the afternoon chasing Sherlock and Greg around the neighborhood, enjoying their girly shrieks, until Mycroft showed up and put a stop to it. Later that evening, you and John were enjoying some Chinese takeaway back at your apartment.

"I really can't apologize enough for leaving you in the dark, Y/N," John said. "I should have written," He chided himself.

"It's alright, John," You assured him. "Actually, you just reminded me of something. Wait here a moment." You ran off to your room and pulled an envelope out of a small box in your desk. You returned to the living room and held it out to John. "This is for you. It was my last letter but," You paused, blushing lightly. "I never mailed it."

My Dear Captain Watson,

I hope you're doing well. I hope you're staying safe and helping as many as you can. I hope -

Oh what am I writing. John, there's something you should know and I wish I could tell you in person but better now than never I suppose.

I love you.

There. Feel free to never write me back again or return this with a 'Dear John' letter. Well, you know what I mean. I wish I could have said it better or sooner but I was scared to lose your friendship. Now I'm more scared of actually losing you.

John, please return safely. Even if we never speak again. The world should not be without John Watson.

All my love,

Y/N

"Y/N," John said, tears in his eyes after reading your letter. "Why didn't you send it?"

"Well, you had asked me not to write anymore since it was dangerous and," You paused, shaking your head sadly. "I chickened out again."

"Well, I guess what they say is true then." You looked at him quizzically as he pulled you close to him and leaned his forehead on yours. "Better late than never."

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

@gaitwae

[kiribakuficrecs]

hello!!! im going on a very long trip at the end of april and I'm looking for some very long fics to download to keep me entertained! i dont care what they're about as long as there's no major character death or mentions of non-con. ur blog is a godsend ilysm and you do such a good job thank you so much 🙏

hi there!! i definitely have a lot of good lengthy fics i can recommend to you!

quote love unquote by newamsterdam 

Sero nods. “It’s the chance of a lifetime, really,” he says. “We want you to date Bakugou, for the sake of his reputation with the press. Some public appearances, a few ‘candid’ photos. For at least a couple of months.”

“Bakugou sent you to ask me to date him?” Kirishima asks, baffled.

“Of course not. We, his people, are asking you to date him. He’s going to have to get on board, if he wants his career to survive. And in the bargain, Riot will get all sorts of publicity, because their lyricist will be dating one of the industry’s hottest stars. A win for everyone.”

When Kirishima Eijirou's band hits the big time, he's not prepared for his newfound fame. He's even less prepared to meet the actor he's been crushing on for years, or to start dating him as a publicity stunt. The closer Kirishima gets to Bakugou Katsuki, the more he realizes he's in over his head. But it's hard to stop, once his heart is in it.

acceptance and denial by poteto

It all goes okay when Kirishima decides to come out to his friends and it all goes wrong when decides that Bakugou is the best fake boyfriend material.

cause the darks not taking prisoners tonight by imatrisarahtops

“Are those soba noodles?” Kirishima asked.

Again Bakugou’s only reply was a grunt. He offered no further explanation—not that Kirishima honestly expected one—as though making soba noodles from scratch at half past four in the morning wasn’t at all a bizarre occurrence and made complete and total sense. For a fleeting moment, Kirishima even wondered if maybe he was the odd one here. Besides, he’d already decided it was generally not in his best interest to question these types of things with Bakugou, especially when it was something essentially harmless.

When Kirishima has a nightmare and is unable to fall back asleep, he accepts defeat and decides to study in the common area of the dorms. What he doesn't expect to find is Bakugou, also very much awake, and Kirishima can't help but think that maybe they're both having the same problems with sleeping. If he's worried, it's just because they're friends. (Right?)

the weight of your hand by kamin

That night, to the citizens, the explosions were a jolt of fear at every blast, but to the heroes and the students of UA, they were punches and swings, fierce fighting and loud strength. The explosions were the pulse of the battle, and the power of a boy that would never back down.

One after another, explosions set a chorus through the shuddering city.

And then, suddenly—the explosions stopped.

(In which Bakugou’s kidnapping goes a little differently, and just a few seconds could change so much.)

so take my hand (your life will be brighter) by multiclassmaps

When a stranger shows up at the ice rink during Bakugou's usually private training sessions, Bakugou expects to hate him. He doesn't expect to develop feelings that become increasingly difficult to deny, or for them to help each other sort through their emotional baggage. - Bakugou really didn't like Kirishima's smile. There was something about it that made his stomach hurt, something about it that made it difficult to focus. He definitely hadn't thought about that smile on his way to the ice rink that day. He definitely hadn't.

distance makes the heart grow fonder (false) by dragontrappedinhumanskin

When Bakugo and Kirishima get hit by a quirk that forces them to literally stick together or face the less then desirable consequences, how the fuck is Bakugo supposed to keep his crush hidden?! Well, turns out he never needed to.

-- “Well, this fucking sucks, how are we supposed to train?!” "Really closely?"

perihelion by tauontauoff

Bakugou was a comet, blazing out of reach. Kirishima knew he was stupidly lucky that his furious trajectory went by close enough that his fingertips got to graze the cowl of fire. It was enough.

During Christmas Class 1A and 1B spend a laid-back week learning about extreme environment hero work in the Alps. Kirishima was used to keeping part of his feelings for Bakugou hidden, and had every intention of keeping it that way, but things don't always go according to plan.

fight me by mr_todoroki

Bright red, spiky hair. Annoyingly bright smile. Clothes that radiate ‘look at me’ vibes. Neon yellow tank top with black shorts. And those were definitely crocs on his fucking feet.

Yeah, Katsuki hated this guy.

-

Bakugou gets a new roommate.

quietly by chezka

“We’ve been taking the same way to and from school for weeks,” Kirishima grinned, and then when Bakugou frowned at him he put on an affected pout, tilted his head so that he was looking at him through his thick, long lashes, “you never noticed? Am I that easy to miss?”

He could barely finish the sentence before a laugh escaped his lips, and Bakugou rolled his eyes, hit him with a shoulder a little more violently than necessary.

“You stick out like a sore thumb, broom-head,” he grumbled, promptly ignoring Kirishima's whining about his hairstyle when it started coming, “I didn’t notice ‘cause I didn’t care.”

“And now you do?”

everyone knows that cats are independent by purplepersnickety

Eijirou enjoys his job, working the graveyard shift at a 24/7 coffee shop. His daemon Riot is always there to keep him company, and he likes meeting the early-morning patrons and giving them the best possible kick-start to their day. It's been his routine for about a year now.

Then one day, a grouchy guy with a daemon in the form of a lion walks into the shop in the dead of night, and Eijirou decides to strike up a conversation with him.

punks not dead by wrunic

“So you want to use me to piss off your mom?” Kirishima summarized, raising one pierced eyebrow at Katsuki.

“Look, if you want to be all fucking judgy about it, I take cash,” Katsuki said, dropping his hand palm up on the table.

“Hey now,” Kirishima said, raising his hands in surrender, “I didn’t say I wasn’t doing it. I’m always down for a little chaos.” He flashed a grin, showing off his ridiculous shark teeth.

“Good,” Katsuki said. “We start tomorrow."

sent, delivered, read, loved by kiribakuhappiness

Kirishima E. [6.49pm]: ur okay for such an angry dude bakugou! :)

Bakugou K. [7.12pm]: FUCK YOU!

Kirishima E. [7.14pm]: haha! :D ttyl!

Bakugou K. [7.48pm]: FUCKING WHAT DO THOSE DUMB LETTERS MEAN???

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: I JUST LOOKED IT UP DONT FUCKING TALK TO ME LATER!

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: STOP TXTING ME!!!

- OR -

Bakugou's and Kirishima's relationship develops from classmates to friends to more, as told through their text conversations.

flicker by mr_todoroki

He was starting to feel depressed. Life was so uninteresting. It was so mundane and forgettable. He had no one to hang out with besides Kota, his family didn’t even live in the city.

He grew his hair out as some sort of rebellion, some sort of stand to make his life the slightest bit more interesting. But he could already feel himself giving in to the pressure of cutting it. He needed to work to live. Without a job, he’d truly have nothing.

OR

Kirishima never applied to UA, therefore never became a hero.

let’s get down to business by kjelfalconer

Katsuki Bakugou, one of the brightest rising stars on wall street, is in need of a new personal assistant. Again. Could Eijirou Kirishima finally be the one to last more than two months?

Katsuki's long suffering HR department sure hope so.

something about us by bigstupidjellyfish

nothing like being in highschool and having no idea how to deal with emotions

fireproof by inkbender

Four years after a classmate nobody seems to remember is kidnapped by the League of Villains, Kirishima drags an amnesiac hobo he found washed up on the beach into his apartment, attempts to teach him how to adult (with varying degrees of success), and discovers along the way that the line between heroism and villainy is quite fine indeed. Plot-divergent after episode 45, the Forest Training Camp arc.

blood riot by magicallee (alternatively)

Kirishima from a universe with no quirks is mind-swapped with an alternate universe version of himself where there are superpowers.

And in that universe he’s a super villain.

And Bakugou is the superhero who caught Evil-Kirishima and put him in prison.

blindside by drowclericpelor

“You’re the first guy friend I’ve had that I can just like, be friends with. You’re either the most unthirstiest boy ever...” Camie shrugged and made another wobbly illusion appear between her hands. It looked like a sparkly rainbow with the word ‘friendship’ beneath it, accompanied by what Bakugou assumed was supposed to be a twinkling sound effect, but it had a tinny quality to it and sounded far away. “...or I just ain’t got the kinda straw you like to ssssip.”

Carefully, Bakugou considered the strange turn this conversation had taken.

He had never been asked, point blank, if he was gay before. And he honestly had never thought about how he would respond. Lying about himself didn’t sit right with him. But he’d always wanted to wait until he was the number one hero - when he stood above everyone else - before coming out. Though he’d had times when he’d thought about doing it before then and had almost gone through with it once. But being the number one hero came first. It wouldn’t matter what people would say about it then as long as he’d risen to the top.

Bakugou knew his lack of a response would give Camie all the answers she needed.

flour power by wingsonghalo

“I’m telling you now, Shitty Hair,” the blonde growled, “I am not gonna play house with you. We will cart this stupid flour around for a week like the assignment says. But some of our idiot classmates are naming the thing and setting up ‘playdates’ and dressing it and I am not doing anything that stupid. Got it?”

Kirishima and Bakugou are paired up to take care of a flour sack for a week. It would be so simple, except nothing with Bakugou is ever simple. Also Kirishima might be kinda sorta completely head over heels for him.

sunchaser by chonideno

that feeling when you suddenly want to jump off a cliff for no reason but instead of a cliff it’s your best friend and instead of jumping it’s growing feelings out of nowhere

or how Bakugou has to try really hard not to throw everything to the wind, and Kirishima doesn't help

i also have a tag specifically for fics that reach somewhere between 30k-70k words long if you wanted to check that out as well! i hope you enjoy the fics here and that i was able to help, ily enjoy your trip!!! :D 

[theleftovertaco]

Post War HCs

TW- mentions of panic attacks, hoarding, PTSD, self harm, if any of this may trigger something for you, don’t fucking read it.

I always kind of get annoyed when writers, shows or movies ignore the physical or mental trauma that their characters have. I understand in Harry Potter where the characters aren’t really shown past their first 7 years but I do have some personal HCs about how each of the characters fared following the second Wizarding War and the Battle of Hogwarts

All was not well.

Harry gets sensory overload, he’s anxious all the time, and over the following years he becomes a bit of a control freak, since he felt like he could barely control things around him as a teen. He spent nearly 7 years telling himself and others that he wanted to be an Auror, and he followed through, going through the training, passing his exams and finally becoming an Auror.

He gets burnout in less than 2 years before eventually resenting his job. It’s not for lack of trying, they do a lot the first few months in active duty and he moves up the ranks faster than anyone in Ministry history (being the chosen one has it’s perks).

But he feels like there’s so much that’s put on his plate, that he can’t control. Harry spent seven years at Hogwarts dodging Daily Prophet interviews and trying to live up to the expectations of being the Chosen One, and he hoped that after he killed Voldemort, those expectations would have been met and he could finally have some peace. 

The expectations grew. So did criticisms. Any singular mistake the Auror department made fell under his responsibility, at least, according to the press. 

At the one and a half year mark, he breaks, doesn’t show up for work one day, dodges his family and friends and takes off for a few weeks. He shows up later to press shoving their quick-quotes quills in his face and hands in an immediate notice of resignation. 

All was not well.

Hermione still wakes up in the middle of the night with stinging flesh, and she has to check over her limbs to make sure that Bellatrix didn’t somehow carve another slur into her, even though Hermione knows she’s dead. 

Sometimes she can still feel the knife carving into her arm, can still feel the blood dripping out of the wound.

She develops a fear of snakes over time, even the smallest garden snake makes her jump, considering her experience with snakes during the war was less than satisfactory, to say the least

Hermione puts her guard up when meeting diplomats as she rises the Ministry ranks. She never knows who is going to spout anti- muggle rhetoric in her face. She walks with her wand always in her hand. 

She never knows if a Voldemort sympathizer will jump out and attack her when she walks down Diagon Alley. 

All was not well.

Ron can’t be away from Hermione or Harry for too long or he gets separation anxiety. Spending nearly a decade in life or death situations makes him nearly unable to function unless he knows they’re both okay. 

Ron still feels a curling sensation in his gut if he is away from Hermione for too long. Sometimes he wakes up screaming her name when his nightmares make him relive the sounds of her being tortured by Bellatrix. 

After the third time of him showing up at her doorstep at odd hours of the night, she takes him to buy a landline so he can just call to confirm her safety.

Ron needs reassurance that his friends won’t leave him. He spent his whole life being mistaken or compared to his siblings. There is always that sinking feeling in his mind that one day, his friends will realize that they’re better than him, and they’ll move on.

It takes years of reassuring before he begins to believe it himself.

All was not well.

Fred lives, but his hearing is permanently damaged from the explosion. Sometimes he can still hear ringing sounds of the blast and his ears will randomly bleed. 

He tries to hold it together, to prove that he doesn’t need help with his hearing. 

It takes about eight months before he concedes and allows his mother to take him to get his ears looked at, but by that point the damage is too far down, so he tries muggle hearing aids. 

Sometimes Fred can still feel his lungs crushing in while he struggles to take another breath, can feel his ribcage closing in on his heart. Whoever he’s closest too will have to sit down with him and remind him that he’s not under a dark pile of rubble, unable to scream or speak or breath.

Sometimes it’s impossible for him to hear them though because when he has panic attacks his ears just, shut off, or he’ll rip out his aid. 

All was not well.

George still gets insane migraines and feels phantom pains on the left side of his head. He has to take potions to quell the constant pounding sensation in his head. 

He can never be apart from Fred for long. The five minutes of terror he went through when he believed his twin brother was dead have made him constantly worried for his brothers safety so he babies him all the time. Fred eventually gets fed up with him and snaps a few months in, yelling at him to “stop treating me like a child!”

George breaks down sobbing and they both end up going to joint therapy.

George is tired all the time. His job of being around kids in the shop all the time, working 12+ hour days, for 4-6 days a week tires him out. He needs his sleep. 

Fred often finds him slumped over at his desk or at a register and sends him home. 

He hits his breaking point when he refuses to sleep or rest for over 3 days and collapses while restocking.

Fred and George learn to enforce specific schedules, shifts no longer than ten hours for them and no more than nine for their employees. 

All was not well.

Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean, and Seamus still wake up from nightmares of the first years screaming under the punishment of the Carrow twins. 

They snuck as many as possible into the Room of Requirement. 

But it wasn’t enough, and they all have memories scraped into their skulls of sending the body of a first year Hufflepuff home to sobbing parents after Amycus Carrow caught her reading the Quibbler. 

Ginny feels her scalp on fire years after her 6th year from when Alecto Carrow dragged her by the hair. 

She begins to tear out her own hair.

Ginny eventually breaks and just shaves her whole head.

All was not well.

Neville retreats into his shell of plants and disappears into greenhouse three to his venomous tentacula when he feels panicked.

He has to create a rigid schedule for himself, a response to the undiscernible chaos of his school years. 

All was not well.

Luna starts seeing her mother again in her dreams, her screams as she died mirroring the ones of the students that screamed out for help while they were still in school.

All was not well.

Dean and Seamus rent an apartment together and open a pub because if they aren’t always in each others line of sight, panic shoots through their hearts. Seamus throws all his energy into cooking and Dean controls most of the serving and financial aspects of the place.

All was not well.

Molly Weasley still glances at her family clock in fear, though now a few more names have been added to it, waiting for the hands of Harry, Ron, and Hermione to switch back to “Mortal Peril” like they did so often while the three were horcrux hunting.

All was not well.

Arthur Weasley clings to his muggle objects like a shield and eventually develops a light hoarding problem. Molly and the children have to force him to go through each item. Harry and Hermione sit down with him and explain the purpose of each object until he’s ready to let a lot of it go. 

All was not well.

Minerva McGonagall still is on the lookout for kids that look like they come from dangerous homes. Kids that need her help. She worries after 7 years of chaos when the other shoe will drop, and waits with baited breath for news to come through that another catastrophic event will occur within the walls of Hogwarts, walls which were supposed to keep students safe. 

All was not well.

Draco Malfoy spends hours in the shower scrubbing at his scar, trying to make it disappear, he cuts into it at some point with a knife and his mother gently forces him to enter himself into a temporary psych ward after she finds him bloodied and passed out on his bathroom floor.

All was not well. All was never well. 

[rintarouweb]

promise.

paring: asahi x gn! reader 

genre: fluff to angst, light angst, friends to roommates to lovers

warnings: light angst? mentions of cheating, unedited

word count: 3.4k+

notes: this turned out a lot longer than intended and took me too long to finish. the ending was rushed but i hope you like it !! this is also my first time writing for hq ヽ(^◇^*)/

azumane asahi had never been a stranger to feelings of love or, in many cases, feelings of infatuation. anyone who knew asahi was well aware of the fact that he was a romantic with a heart that was bigger than his body - something that says a lot given his tall and wide stature. throughout his three years of high school, asahi had found himself harboring feelings for a classmate or peer. a few times, they even went on to develop into a relationship. while he wasn’t extremely experienced in the area, the former ace wasn’t completely clueless when it came to love - or so he thought. 

a boy by the name of hiroaki was asahi’s first ‘serious’ relationship. the two boys were classmates paired together for an english assignment once, then twice, and over time their feelings for one another had blossomed - like tulips in the spring. after hiroaki confessed his feelings for his seatmate, asahi was floating on air. everyone around him could see how much happier he seemed. a sparkle in his eyes, a skip in his step. asahi felt finally full being with him, but that quickly changed after the first month of their relationship. 

the boy who was once kind, loving, and so supportive of his partner became anything but those things towards asahi. it started with hiro becoming more judgemental of the ace, especially when it came to the way asahi showed him affection. suddenly, asahi wanting to hold hands, be cuddled, or even a small peck on the lips was ‘annoying’ and ‘too much’ for hiro. asahi shrugged it off. things were fine and if not, then they’d figure themselves out eventually. he just needed to be better for hiro so they’d be happy, so hiroaki wouldn’t be so angry anymore. over time, hiroaki continued to pull himself away from asahi. ignoring the feeling in his gut and the advice of his older sister, he allowed himself to once again get caught up in love. 

it wasn’t until his three month anniversary that asahi reached his breaking point. a picnic that his sister and mother helped him pack was tucked away in the woven basket. he sat on a large and soft picnic blanket that provided cushion against the hard ground underneath the zelkova tree. an hour passed, then another. it was beginning to reach the later hours of the afternoon when asahi let out a defeated sigh, feeling embarrassed as he sat alone in he and his boyfriend’s favorite spot in the park. he hadn’t heard from hiroaki for hours now. there was no call or text saying he was running late, that he couldn’t make it, or that he wanted to reschedule their date. 

asahi’s vision quickly started to blur, the unshed tears threatening to fall a burning feeling settled in the back of his throat. he wiped them away with his sleeve, gathered his things, and began his journey home. the brown-haired boy wasn’t too far from his home when he saw the reason - or rather, the person why hiro hadn’t shown up for their date. hiroaki was busy with a guy, one he claimed to be just friends with. the lump in asahi’s throat had grown as he watched the scene before him unfold.  a bright smile flashed on hiroaki’s face, one that asahi hadn’t seen for weeks, as the boy moved to give a kiss to his ‘friend’.

ignoring the aching in his heart and the overwhelming need to find the nearest private space and sob until his he was content, asahi swallowed the tears and ran home, flowers clutched in his hold. the second he stepped into his bedroom, his walls came crashing down. the dam had finally broke. 

asahi’s emotional pain flowed out of his pores, anyone could smell the sadness pouring out of them. a loud, cracked, and nearly raw sob escaped past his lips. the stream of tears grew, becoming thicker as his body shook violently under his comforter. in the midst of his tears, asahi had failed to hear the person entering his room, or notice his mattress sinking next to him, and the hand that had started rubbing soothing circles onto his back.  

“asahi?” your voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough for your friend to hear you. still, he remained facing away from you with his face squished on his pillow. “what happened, bub? i thought you were with hiro today.”

a cry left him at the mention of his boyfriend, or perhaps he was his ex now. with all the time he spent daydreaming about love, asahi never would’ve imagined this. he knew love could hurt, he had seen his sister go through heartbreak more times than he could count on one hand, but he never imagined it hurting like this. the weight on his chest was unbearable, making it hard for him to breathe or get a coherent word out. 

“do you want to talk about it?” you asked as your hand scratched the hair at the nape of his neck. having his hair played with was something that always managed to comfort asahi, but seeing as it was still tied up into a bun, you didn’t want to just take his hair out without knowing if he wanted your comfort or not. 

a sniffle came from asahi along with a nod. before you could move to respond, he was turning around to face you with swollen, bloodshot eyes and swollen cheeks. “can you play with my hair too?” 

“of course. i’ll always be here for you, asahi.” 

“promise?”

“i promise.” 

- 

intentionally or not, you kept the promise you made to asahi that day. you were always there for him through his lows and highs and he did the same for you in return. even though he was a mess himself, something he never denied or shied away from admitting, he did his best to comfort you, offer advice, or help in any way you might’ve needed or wanted. 

it took a few months for asahi to completely get over hiroaki but once his heart was fully healed, he was ready to give love a chance again. much to his demise, the flames seemed to burn out quickly. he told himself it was because of volleyball and his studies, he was too focused, too busy for a significant other and that was why the relationships didn’t work. and if he wasn’t thinking that he was too busy, he was wondering if it was too much or sometimes too little for his partners. asahi had always struggled with his own insecurities and after being cheated on was a huge blow to the self confidence he spent so much time carefully building up. in his first year of college, he ended up in a relationship that only worsened those insecurities. 

asahi found himself falling for a person in his fashion design class, yuna. looking back, he wonders if he truly loved her or if her being so, so different from hiroaki was what pulled him in. 

yuna and asahi were both in their second year of college when they met in their fashion design class. outside of the one class they had together, the two rarely saw each other - aside from the few run ins here and there on campus grounds. most people who knew yuna, or at least of her, were aware of the fact she was considered to be a ‘loner.’ the thing was, yuna was relatively popular. the girl attended parties often and whenever she wasn’t alone, she was with a new group of people no one had seen her with before. so, when the news of yuna and asahi being in a relationship got around, people were surprised to say the least. 

asahi was timid, especially for a big guy, and everyone knew that. on the other hand, yuna was a relatively short girl with the personality of a shaken up soda. yet somehow with their opposites, they made it work for quite a while. for asahi, it felt as if centuries had passed since his relationship with his first love hiroaki but sometimes old wounds reopened. yuna not only tried to be understanding of asahi’s insecurities, she supported him emotionally and gave him the reassurance he needed. from then, asahi felt as if he finally had found love again. 

the couple was together for five (5) months when yuna expressed that she didn’t have a place to stay at the for the next term. asahi asked yuna to move in and from there, it seemed as if things would only keep going up. oh, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

many people will agree that breakups that come out of nowhere are the most hurtful kind and after experiencing one for himself, asahi couldn’t help but agree. asahi and yuna were both wanting to pursue their fashion careers, looking for internships all over just to have the opportunity to work under a gifted designer. asahi landed a position in tokyo, which would’ve been great for their relationship if yuna hadn’t gotten an internship in an entirely different country. after several hour long conversations, the pair agreed that breaking up would be the best for them. they both knew it was coming at some point but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. the day yuna departed to the airport was a painful one to say the least. the last time asahi cried that hard was that day so many years ago when he saw his high school boyfriend cheating on him. 

when asahi closed his apartment door behind him, there was no way to ignore or deny the silence that weighed down on him. yuna’s things had been slowly disappearing from the apartment for months but now, he was finally completely alone. for some, silence was a thing that brought comfort but for asahi, the silence was only more room for his thoughts to weigh down on him. 

he could’ve found an internship in the states, then he would’ve been able to stay with yuna. why didn’t he bring up long distance? they could’ve made it work, so why didn’t he try?

his body sunk into the couch even deeper and a sigh escaped his lips. what the hell was he supposed to do now? it was nearly one in the morning, on a tuesday nonetheless, and just about everyone he knew was either asleep or involved in something he had no part in. your name flashed in his mind and a small smile graced his lips. you were usually awake at the most random hours of the night, or morning. asahi could call you, right? even if you didn’t answer by some chance, there’s no harming in trying. his fingers moved to unlock his phone, rushing to find your contact and letting out a sigh once the line started to ring. 

“hello?” 

“oh, uhm, hi,” asahi whispered. 

“is something wrong? do you need me to come over?” the keyboard clicks he heard on the other line came to a stop as you waited for his answer. he assumed you were editing a video, or working on a new piece of writing. you always told him your mind worked better at night, the moon helped your ‘creative juices flow.’ 

he nodded but remembered you couldn’t see him and responded with a short “yes, please.” 

asahi could only feel relieved at the fact you were awake at such an hour, let alone willing to come over and comfort him, or even just sit in silence for a few hours. unbeknownst to him, this was all part of the promise you made to yourself in high school. it was all part of being a good friend and being there for him the way he had been there for you countless times as well. about thirty minutes later, his apartment door opened and asahi was glad he gave you, daichi, and suga all your own emergency key so he wouldn’t have to leave his spot on the couch to let you in. you made yourself at home as soon as you came in. hanging up your coat and stepping out of your shoes, you sat down next to him and placed a bag of food on the coffee table in front of you. 

“eat,” you pushed the bag towards him. a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but it never fully rose. 

no words were exchanged while the two of you ate. asahi’s attention was focused on the show he had put on and yours was focused on him. his long, dark hair was out of his usual bun he pulled it into and it fell a bit passed his shoulders. a pair of glasses rested on his nose, the glare from the light making it difficult to see just how red the whites of his eyes had become.

“you know, if you’re worried about getting lonely here, i could always move in.” 

asahi’s head turned towards you, eyebrows furrowed. “why would you do that?”

“well,” you swallowed, “don’t like my current roommate. i can’t even exist in peace there. we’ve been friends for forever, you know all my habits, i know all yours. plus your apartment’s closer to my internship.” 

“when can you move in?”

you were moved and settled into the apartment two weeks later. the room that was once yuna’s space for working on designs had been turned into your bedroom and asahi couldn’t be happier. well, he was as happy as he could be for someone who was recovering from a breakup.

 without a doubt, asahi was the best roommate you had and vice versa. your monrings started off with him offering you a cup of coffee, tea, or whatever you had a taste for that morning before leaving for his morning run. breakfast dates, or any sort of platonic date for the two of you only became more common after becoming roommates. some days it was going into the city and grabbing breakfast before spending most of the day shopping. other days, that meant sitting in a quiet diner and catching up. 

your roommate had been extremely busy recently, finally being given the chance to debut his own fashion line and you couldn’t have been happier for him. while you loved and definitely supported asahi in his dreams, things around the apartment had gotten a bit lonely. besides you there were numerous kinds of plants all over the shared space. asahi loved plants, he was a self proclaimed plant dad and living with him only made you grow fond of the green things he called your children. as much as you loved the plants now, they were no match against the nights you and asahi would spend sprawled out on either of your beds eating takeout and binge watching a show that took you both ages to agree on. 

tonight was just another day where you both had agreed on hanging out once asahi got finished with his day. it was nothing extravagant or over the top, just ordering takeout and watching movies while camped out in his room. the food came a bit after asahi got home, he greeted you with a quick hug before excusing himself to the shower and you gave him a small nod and smile. things between you two had been changing recently, slowly but ever so surely. it wasn’t odd for asahi to be affectionate with you, or other of his close friends, but his touches went from quick hugs and occasional cuddles after a rough day to lingering touches, holding your hands in his, and a forehead kiss here and there. it wasn’t a bad change for either of you, actually. based off of the way your heart fluttered whenever his hand brushed yours or the way his chest felt warm and fuzzy whenever he saw you, it couldn’t have been a bad thing, right? definitely not. 

while asahi was in the shower, you sat on his bed cuddled up with one of his favorite stuffed animals: a giant turtle he named melvin. asahi had a collection of stuffed animals, he treasured them no matter how big or small they were. the shelf above his desk was filled with small stuffies he received as gifts from his friends or family, a few from you, actually. once you started scrolling through titles on netflix, asahi entered the room and got settled next to you on his large, comfy bed. 

his hair was tied up into it’s classic bun, a few lose strands fell and framed his face. the hoodie he wore somehow managed to make someone as large and broad as him look tiny. was this the kind of thing asahi did with people he was dating? were you two dating? no, you were both just friends and had been since you were teenagers. nothing more, nothing less. that was what you told yourself any time you found your heart skipping beats because of something asahi said or did, sometimes even just being around the boy was enough for the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. you pushed those thoughts and unnamed feelings to the back burner. being his roommate was great, you couldn’t- you weren’t going to ruin that because of some feelings you weren’t even sure of. 

by now, the takeout was discarded in the trash and the two of you snuggled up together under the covers. for warmth. it was cold, asahi was a human heater, so it only made sense that you wanted to be close to him. the movie binge had been going on for a few hours, you’d gotten through a few episodes of a show you wanted to watch and halfway through a movie that turned out to be garbage before deciding to watch disney’s tangled for the hundredth time.

asahi laid with his head on your stomach, giving you room to rake your fingers through your hair but still be comfortable. one of his arms was wrapped around your thigh, almost using it like a pillow, and the other held a small stuffed bear close to his chest. the movie was getting to the part where rapunzel was telling mother gothel about the floating lanterns when asahi decided to interrupt the comfortable silence that had fallen onto you. 

"bubba,” he called, grabbing your attention. you let out a small hum, letting the boy know that you heard him. you could physically feel the way his body tensed under your touch before he turned around so he could face you. his arms held him up to avoid his body weight falling entirely on top of you. the color was drained from his face and you could tell from that and the way his eyes avoided your own that he was nervous, overthinking something. 

“i’ve known you since... forever. i can’t imagine my life without you,” he started, “if it wasn’t for you, i’d be so lost right now.”

“why are you so sappy all the sudden?” you snorted. your attempt to lighten the atmosphere made asahi smile, his cheeks growing a bit pink at that too. you weren’t sure if he noticed the way your face was burning at his words, or the fact that your heart was ready to leap out of your chest and right into his arms. maybe, just maybe you were now sure of where your feelings for asahi stood. he shrugged and let out a large puff of air, his head falling back onto your stomach with a small grunt. your hands tangled in his hair once again as his attention went back to the movie. there were a few minutes of silence between the two of you before you pushed your anxiety aside and took a deep breath. 

“asahi, i don’t know if we can be friends anymore.” 

“wa- what? why not?” 

“i don’t see you as just my friend, or my roommate, even. i haven’t seen you that way for a while, if i’m being honest. and i wasn’t going to say anything but you said that and i just-” you groaned and covered your face with your hands. “asahi, i’m in love with you.” 

his throat was dry, his heart was beating so fast he was sure he’d end up dizzy in a few seconds but this chance was in front of him after waiting for so long, he wasn’t going to let it slip away from him. 

“can i kiss you?”

[nerdified]

Procedural Notes: Patient #3 (FKA Hugo Jensen)

NOTE: [At the time of this audio recording, Mr. Hugo Jensen (NKA Norville Nerdlinger) has just begun the process, and is restrained. The identity of the speaker is unknown. This transcript is reproduced here in order to assist with identification of this man, who has since disappeared, absconding with an undisclosed amount of the process agonist. Efforts to locate him have, to date, been fruitless. If anyone knows anything about this man or his whereabouts, please report the information to Central Command.]

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Quiet, now. It’s no use struggling.

I’m not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite.

I see that look in your eyes, like you don’t think I could hurt you. You’re probably right. I’m not much of a fighter. But I know what you think of me, and other guys like me. I’ve been listening to you on the phone, you know. Hacked your telecommunications. What was it that you called me, on that call with the client yesterday?

Oh, yes, I remember. A walking pocket protector. I’ll admit, that was a new one for me. I’ve had “pencil-neck” and “four-eyes” and the good old-fashioned “nerd” lobbed at me before, but “walking pocket-protector”… Heck, it’s got a little poetry to it!

Shh. I know, it feels strange. It’s a little unsettling, at first, I’ll agree. But you’ll get used to it. It’ll go easier for you if you just relax and quit fighting it. In time, you’ll even begin to like it.

I’m sorry about the gag. Unfortunately, it’s just the beginning of the process, so I have to leave it in for…twenty-three more minutes, at least, if my calculations are correct.

Ha! Who am I kidding – my calculations are always correct.

I can see from your eyes that you hate my guts right now. That, too, will change.

You see, what’s about to happen to you isn’t out of the ordinary, or even very noteworthy. As far as I can tell, it happens to a lot of guys, especially those that zip through their twenties and then hit that speed bump called thirty, bank accounts empty and career opportunities shot. Those of us who didn’t win the genetic lottery couldn’t get by just on our looks and our charisma, like you did.

I remember how it felt when I was in high school, and guys like you were all A+ students and perfect jocks, too… gosh, it’s enough to make me swear.

But no. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You couldn’t just be a jock, be good at sports, and leave the academics to the rest of us. We didn’t ask for much, you know. We just wanted to be left alone in our science labs, and in our tutorials, in our lives.

There's no escaping guys like you. You’re everywhere, and you’re spreading. For a time, we ignored it. Figured it was some kind of anomaly. But it wasn’t – it was a trend. And despite the fact that we didn’t see it coming, we are now prepared for its end.

Like I mentioned – it won’t surprise most people to see you change. Maybe a few of your close friends will worry about you. Express some concern. But by that point, you’ll already have accepted your new self. You’ll be able to say “This is just who I am,” and it’ll be their choice how to proceed. That’s a side benefit, by the way, of the process. You get to find out who your real friends are – and, spoiler alert: they’re not exactly big football fans.

You have to be prepared for some major shake-up in your life, though. The good thing about the process is that it won’t faze you in the slightest. Everything will be gee-whiz gosh-darn super-duper spiffy keen neat-o, if anyone asks, and for you, it will be.

Now, I know those terms are a little outdated. We’ve had to make a bit of an adjustment to the process in your case. The earlier version wasn’t quite strong enough for you, so we’ve had to over-compensate in a few directions. You won’t just be a little bit nerdy, you know, a couple of odd quirks, some new hobbies. For example, Derek – well, that’s his dead name, he goes by Derwood now – Derwood can sometimes get by in normal society. He even kept a few of his old friends. He’s just more into things like superhero movies, and he’s left behind all knowledge or passion for sports. I think I even saw him reading a comic book the other day, come to think of it.

But that’s not going to be you. Oh, sure, you might develop a taste for superhero movies, but if you do, it won’t just be a passing interest. You’ll become a rabid fan. I believe…obsessive…is the operative word, in fact. Yes, you see, that earlier version of the process would have worn off, and you’d have been back to your old self in no time, which would wreak havoc on your psyche, not to mention put our entire operation in jeopardy. We can’t have that.

It looks like some time has passed, but not quite enough for me to remove the gag yet. Do you feel your perfect white teeth shifting around in your gums, almost impatiently? Nod once for yes.

You don’t have to nod at all, not if you don’t want to. I don’t need you to confirm for me what I can already see happening in your eyes. Speaking of your eyes – how’s your vision? I can see you starting to squint every now and then. Trying to see past that blur? Don’t worry. I’ve already got your glasses, right here, for when it gets too bad for you to see. Talk about your Coke-bottle lenses - my calculations again predict that you’ll settle somewhere around…hm…negative six diopters, which is even worse than mine.

To put it simply: you won’t even be able to read the big E on the eye chart without your glasses on.

I know, you’ve never been to the optometrist in your life. You never needed to. And don’t think about getting contact lenses, either. I mean, go ahead and try, if you really want to embarrass yourself.

Oh, I can see it now: timid, nerdy little guy like you, shuffling into the doctor’s office – you say you want to get contact lenses, and they get you in the back for a fitting. They show you how to do it, you know, hold your eyelids apart and then just plop the lens on there. But you have to do it three times before they’ll let you leave with them, and you won’t even be able to get one in, because you’ll keep blinking it out. I wish I could be there to see it, honestly – you, all frustrated, trying to swear, but only able to say things like “Fudge!” and “Gosh darn it!”

It’ll be so beautiful. I’m getting teary just thinking about it.

I’m glad you’re starting to settle down a bit. Let me know when you need your glasses. Maybe while we wait, I’ll get started on your hair. That trendy fade has got to go, and so does that scruff on your face. At the start, you’ll have to shave a lot, but as the process continues, you’ll start producing more of a 5-alpha reductase enzyme. This will convert your testosterone into dihydrotestosterone, or DHT, which will actually miniaturize your follicles. Kind of like using a shrink ray on them! Oh, and there will be no taking of inhibitors, like finasteride or anything like that – our process contains a potent agonist, with an affinity of 0.25 to 0.5 nM for the human androgen receptor.

It’s all very scientific, I assure you. And with the miniaturization of your follicles, your sebaceous glands will begin to over-produce sebum, which results in – you guessed it! Acne. Pimples. Zits. I know you’ve never had to deal with that before, so I’m just preparing you for it now. Pizza-face, I think the popular nickname is. Get ready for a lot of that.

Let’s see…what else can I tell you.... Gosh, this is kind of like the orientation for a new job, isn’t it? Ah, yes. I know. Speaking of jobs...

Yeah, this is the tough part. It’s all very natural, I assure you. Just like with your friends, your co-workers will come to see you in a different way. I know you have quite a few cutthroat underlings who would eat one another alive to get your corner office, and the moment they sense you’re not as much of a threat as you used to be, they’ll swarm.

I give it two weeks, tops, until you’re gone. If you choose that road. Or you could make it much easier on yourself and resign. You won’t be financially ruined – not with all that new information surging through your brain – you’ll be an asset to the right company, the right department. Maybe IT will take you. Or accounting. Maybe you won’t work corporate. Maybe you’ll work retail.

God, that’s cruel even for me. I wouldn’t wish retail on anyone, even a jerk like you. But there’s no telling what could happen. For all I know, once the process has completed, you could end up one of those Geek Squad guys at Best Buy! Have you seen the uniform they have to wear? It’s company-mandated dress code. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? White, short-sleeve, button-down shirt. Black polyester clip-on necktie; black, pleated trousers; black lace-up shoes…and white socks. Yes, white socks, kept completely spotless and bright. All this is enforced, too, with routine inspections, to make sure you’re being compliant!

You see, there’s really an infinity of possibilities for you. If anything, this is a new chance for you – a fresh start. I know it feels scary, all this change. But change is the only constant. Everything is always in flux. Heck, every seven years, your entire body regenerates – every cell is new and different, so why shouldn’t your personality and identity change, too?

It’s logical, isn’t it? Nod once for yes.

Good! You’re starting to come around, aren’t you? Like I said, it won’t be so bad if you just accept it. If you don’t fight it. That sudden urge to position your tongue up behind your teeth when you say ess. Eth. Eth. How your voice keeps breaking, and in the most unfortunate ways, and at the most unfortunate times – all of this is being etched into your muscle memory as I speak to you.

There isn’t much longer now until I can remove your gag, and I can see that the physical alterations are beginning. Too bad all that hard work at the gym all these years is so easily eroded by our process, but then, those muscles were mostly for show, weren’t they? Well, no longer. It isn’t exactly sarcopenia, but it’s close. You’ll be at least one and a half, possibly two, standard deviations below the relevant population mean, and no amount of exercise will restore your former abilities.

Yes, the ropes are looser now, because you’re much smaller. Rapid onset muscle deterioration. You could struggle out of them. Maybe you could even escape. You could try. But there’s no way you’d make it very far without your glasses. Who would believe you, anyway? What would you even say?

Like I said, you might as well give in. It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. And you’ll have me. I’ll be with you for the whole beginning process, so you can acclimate to your newly nerdy life. You won’t be able to continue living in that luxe apartment you’ve got – no, you’ll be moving into a nice little basement apartment I’ve got fixed up for you, in the suburbs outside the city. The landlords have just got it refurbished, with some nice wood paneling, and there’s a spare twin bed that should be just your size! There’s also tons of room on the walls to put up all your posters. You won’t need much room for anything else, really. You definitely won’t be needing that enormous closet of tailored, fitted button-down shirts, or all those sneakers, definitely not those expensive Under Armour boxer-briefs. What a waste. No, the new you is way more frugal with his money, seeing as he’s paid so little of it. The new you doesn’t even think that much about clothes, or fashion.

This must be a lot to handle. Maybe I should have a little mercy on you.

Tell you what. I’ll let you choose your underwear. How’s that, pal? That make you feel any better? Nod once for yes.

See, I’m not that bad. That’s right. So, here. You can choose…Hanes, or Fruit of the Loom?

Oh, I see. You thought I meant what kind of underwear. Haha, no. You’ll be wearing tighty-whities from now on. Sorry, them’s the rules. Besides, you won’t need much support…down there, if you catch my drift!

Don’t look so horrified. You won’t even notice that it’s gone. Mostly. You’ll still have some length, just, you know, not a lot. You won’t be able to call it a “cock” or a “dick” ever again, either. Oh, look how cute – you’re blushing just hearing me say it! You might call it something else, like your ding-a-ling, or your wiener.

Okay, okay, I can tell you’re getting embarrassed, you’ve gone all red and blotchy in your cheeks. We don’t have to talk about the … “no-no place” anymore, little buddy.

All right. Here’s your glasses. I’ll just set them on your nose, for you…there. Wow, they sure do make your eyes look tiny!

I can tell you’re getting near to the end of the process, and I’m curious to see how big your two front teeth have gotten. From that bump in your upper lip…gosh, it looks like you might be giving Bugs Bunny a run for his money!

You’ve really been behaving better, so I’ll bring you a mirror, okay? So you can see for yourself. I must say, it’s already quite the improvement. I wasn’t expecting your hair to turn so red, or get so curly. Maybe if you can’t get a job at Best Buy, you could run away and join the circus as a clown!

I’m just horsing around with you, pal. Don’t pass out on me. You promise not to scream? I hate it when they scream. Nod once for yes.

You’re a little excited, aren’t you? It’s okay. You can tell me. I bet you get a little more excitable than you used to. Maybe you even get a little clumsy, with the loss of all that hand-eye coordination. Trip over your own two feet and go sprawling.

But who knows. There’s so much potential.

And you’re just the beginning, too. Let’s just say that my proposal for introducing you to the process wasn’t well-received by Central. What do they know? They have this power, and they don’t use it. Well, you snooze, you lose, by golly! If you have a gift, you use it, otherwise it goes to waste.

Anyway. Enough of the supervillain speech. You don’t need to know anything more. It’ll probably be wiped out in the massive crush of nerdy trivia about Star Trek and Star Wars that’s going to download into your brain soon, anyway.

So, this is it. Are you ready to see? Nod once for yes, and I’ll pull the cloth off this mirror here.

Alrighty, dweeb, you asked for it. Here goes.

Say salutations to the new you!

[END TRANSCRIPT]

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Connections.”

Hope everyone is having a good day today, and hope you like the story 

“Explain the difference to me one more time, I just want to make sure I understand.”

“Of course, sir you see t-”

“Admiral, I’m sorry to bother you but the Chairwoman just called, and she needs to speak with you.”

Admiral Vir stood from where he had been sitting with one of the crewmen, and tucked a notebook under one arm. “My Apologies corporal, can we continue this at a later time.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll send those resources I was talking about.”

“It would be much appreciated.”

He stepped out into the hallway pausing by Lt. Simon as she stood waiting for him.

“What is this about?”

“They didn't say, apparently it's too classified for me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Simon looked back over her shoulder as the two of them made their way down the hall, “What was that abou?”

“Corporal Isaa is a bit of a chemistry genius, I was just picking his brain.”

Simon frowned, “Since when did you care about chemistry.”

Since my ex girlfriend became an exalted saint of her entire planet leaving me to wonder if I ever even deserved her in the first place, and with an overwhelming desire to be  better person both morally, physically and intellectually  hoping that I might eventually evolve into the kind of man that could ever compare to a woman like her. Even if it never leads to anything because regardless of how I feel, the desire to become better is never a bad thing.

He shrugged, “You can never know too much, Simon.”

She glanced down at her clipboard, “You’ve been very busy the past few days, are you….ok?” She wasn’t really sure if she should be worried. She wasn't exactly good at reading people emotionally. She only really noticed the changes in patterns, and his sudden change to serious intellectual study and going to the gym twice a day struck her as odd.

Adam smiled  little, “Fine, in fact….. Better than I have in a while. Turns out, I like to stay busy, I like having things to do, and with two hours before bed to relax and unwind, it's not like I’m working myself to death.”

She supposed that was true enough. Where once the men's schedule had been as hard to predict as the evolution of the seasons, his new routine was as plotted as a grid carved by a laser. He hadn’t changed all that much, still goofy, still insistent on listening to distracting  music on the ridge, and wearing those annoying shoes with wheels, but all between his visits to different departments and scrawled notes on hard-copy notebooks, he was beginning to collect in large piles in his quarters.

Two visits to the gym every day, once to work out and once for sparring practice with anyone who would take him on was…. Odd.

A little more so the amount of times he had let Cannon kick the shit out of him, which was many, but the man could take a beating without complaint, so she supposed that was to be…. Admiried? 

Pitied?

No

“Is this about, Sunny?”

Admiral vir almost walked himself into a wall stopping just short as he turned to look at her eyebrows furrowed, “Simon?”

“What/”

“I think you’re getting better at reading people.”

He walked past her without answering the question and into the elevator up to the bridge. They stood quietly inside together as they waited, and Admiral Vir left her behind as he stepped onto deck walking over to take the call.

He sat in the captain's chair as the holo projection buzzed to life before him.

“Chairwoman.”

“Admiral.”

“What can I do for you.”

“Are you busy?”

“I don’t have to be, ma’am.”

“Good, good, something has come up, and we need the expertise of your crew.”

He leaned forward in his seat just a bit, “Go on.” 

“You recall the planet we sent you too, the one with proof of ancient alien inhabitants though there was no evidence of them?”

He shivered, “how could I forget.”

“And you say you encountered… something.”

He nodded “I seem to recall your psychological experts rejected my experience out of hand as…. Head trauma, wasn’t it?”

She sighed “yes, well…. There have been some developments, come to light, and we believe that…. That we were wrong. We would like you to meet up with the scientific team we are sending over, and, if you don’t mind, bring an evaluation of your experience from Dr. Adric, we may want to analyse it more. Our Team wishes to study it in more depth, if that would be acceptable.”

He bowed his head, “Yes, Ma’am. I will. Expect us there within the hour.”

“Our team won’t be ready for a few of your hours yet, so that should give you time to get that evaluation for us.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

***

Dr. Adric stared at the Admiral, sitting across from him in his office. Despite him being here for wildly different reasons than were normal, he couldn't help but analyse the man as if he were one of his patients.

He looked good, healthy, rested, and relaxed, which seemed uncommon for the man within the last year. He was also more  reserved than he had been, which could potentially be a sign of emotional exhaustion or simply increasing maturity, but the man’s easy smile and relaxed posture calmed him to that idea, and he sat back in his chair.

“How are you doing?”

Adam smiled again, “Just can’t help yourself, can you doctor,”

“No, afraid not.”

“I’m alright, hope to keep doing better in the future. I think, Like everyone, I still have my days, but they are less and less as the weeks go on.”

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“Did you get the message from the Chairwoman?”

He nodded, “About your experience on RM-46.”

“Yes.”

“What do you remember?”

He held his holopad in front of him and held it up, recording while he took notes.

“I remember feeling like I was being watched, that was a big one, probably more to do with how eerie the planet was than anything. I was on edge, but not afraid. When I fell into the trapdoor, I remember it was dark at first,”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No, but I did get the wind knocked out of me pretty badly.”

“Go on.”

“There were these little red glowing orbs on the wall and they pulsed on and off as I walked. They were everywhere, and they sort of permeated the room around me which grew bigger and bigger and bigger as I walked, until I was in a massive room, it could have housed a stadium inside it, and at the center of the room I saw this….. this …. Thing… It's hard to describe really but…. Not, impossible to describe, like a tree root, but curled into impossible combinations and connections, where it seemed like one should end another would begin, and where you would assume one would go in front of another it went behind, but in ways that seemed impossible. Like… Like an M.C Echer painting where the water flows uphill. Everything about it seemed to defy the laws of nature but not in a way that one could really explain…. And when I saw it I…. I had such an urge to… to touch it. Like i…. It's impossible to describe.  But you know when you've been underwater for too long and you really need to breathe, and you are so desperate for air that you claw your way back to the surface….. It was like that. And so I reached out, and when I touched it it was… warm, and soft like skin. I Didn’t really have long to think about that thought because before I knew it, itw was like I had been knocked away from my body. Ripped out of myself and cast into the universe.”

He raised a hnd to his head rubbing his temples eyes squinted slightly, “Trying to think about it…. Makes my head hurt because…. It was, unfathomable, there was so much of everything extending into infinity, and all of it was trying to fit inside my head at once. I saw things made and unmade and I felt like I was part of the universe. I was being pulled through everything and nothing and…. I.” He closed his eyes, “I’m sorry, it… it almost hurts to think about.”

He took a deep breath,

“And then I felt as if I was going towards something, somewhere specific, and as I approached…. I…. I felt as if I was going home. Not like home to my parents or even my brothers and sisters but… home.” He sighed, “I’m not explaining this very well. But I felt like I was heading back to somewhere I belonged, it felt warm, like if peace was a location, and there was the only place I could find it. It felt like going to somewhere where I would never hurt again, I would never, want anything ever again. And then…..” he rubbed his head again, “And then I can’t describe, it was like I could see…. Like a veil was being lifted from over my eyes and just as I was looking into… whatever it was, the veil slammed down like an iron shutter and I was pulled back…. I…. Have never felt such a sense of loss….”

He reached up a hand and wiped at his eyes, “I can’t even think about it without crying. It hurts so bad, like heartbreak, not metaphorical,but it physically hurts like my chest is being pulled apart. I think about it and I can’t breathe.” He took a deep breath resting his hand against his chest, “It never seems to fade. If I try to think about it too much, I just hurt.”

Dr. Adric reached out a hand and rested it on the other man’s arm, “We can stop.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, “It's just so, strange. Nothing has ever had that kind of effect on me before, and then just to be told it was all from head trauma, well I don’t buy it. But that wasn’t even the weird part.”

“No?”

“No, when I was there… I didn’t feel… alone…. It felt like, as I was carried away, I was wrapped in the arms of…. something …. Like a child, and when they took me away they said that I wasn't’ ready yet. I Could have imagined it I guess, but I swear, it told me that I wasn’t ready yet, and that is when I woke up five miles away from the city before it collapsed.”

They drew into a long silence.”

“I see.”

“Do I sound crazy?”

“No, I have just never seen a reaction like that…. And you say whenever you think about it.”

“I try to think very little about it. The last time I tried in any sort of way I ended up on the floor in the fetal position sobbing like a child and fell asleep there waking up with an absolutely massive headache, so ys, I try to avoid it whenever possible.”

Dr Adric frowned, “I think that is something we should look into.”

It looked as if Adam was about to argue, but then sighed, “Alright after this is over, I promise, we can look into it, but I am almost 100 percent positive, it isn’t just my head. There was something out there…. something …. Something I am supposed to be a part of, but I’m not.”

Adam turned his head to stare out of the room and into space.

***

Deus, that word again.

 He sat at the desk in his room staring at the piles of notebooks before him, and the projected map hanging in the air just off to the side. He spun in his chair to stare at the projections.

Deus…. The latin word for god or deity repeated back to him from the mouths of aliens.

At the projected map before him, the locations where he had heard those words blinked and pulsed slightly as little lines of glowing thread connected them.

First, it had been the infected starborn, and then it had been the Leviathan, and then from the city before the collapse. Why would a latin word make its way into the vocabulary of creatures who had never even heard latin before. Or perhaps this was just some sort of fluke, it was a big universe and some of the sounds that alien made sometimes made human words, it was bound to happen. But the fact that they meant the same thing swas odd.

He wondered if it was some kind of greeting instead, but shook his head thoughtfully, no, they had been talking to him when they said it, directly speaking to him, but that hardly made sense either, last time he checked he wasn’t some great dity of overwhelming power.

He assumed he would have noticed by now.

He tapped his foot lightly against the ground, and off to the side waffles raised her head, wagging her tail slowly across the floor.

“You confused too, girl?”

She whined softly and rested her head back on her paws.

He turned to look back at the map. He was missing something here, a very big piece of something. And he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what.

Of course that wasn’t going to stop him he supposed.

[vale-studies-ir]

Hello lovely people!

It seems that life made me take a leave of absence from tumblr. Thanks to all of you who have continued to interact with my page! I'm sorry if I've missed any messages or questions in the time that I've been away. I'm back now and I'll continue to share my journey with you all...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In order to be able to keep moving forward, I think it's important to accept the past and move on. Accept any of the difficulties that happened, and see them as moments you've gone through that have made you stronger. My way of accepting and turning over a new page will be through this post.

I haven't shared too much information about my studies and how they've been going. My studyblr was very new, and I was using it more as a means for motivation by seeing all the wonderful things people in the community were doing. Little by little, I started to make posts of my own.

So let me formally introduce myself and share my ongoing journey...

My name is Valentina, I go by Vale for short. I jumped from graduating from my BA in International Relations and Political Science in the Spring of 2018 to starting my PhD studies in International Relations the Fall semester of that same year. No break, very smart... I know. That's only just the beginning. I'm not sure how it works abroad, but here doctoral students usually go through most of their studies being funded by a graduate assistantship. This pays tuition and provides a stipend through working as a TA (graduate teaching assistant). Of course they vary across universities and departments. When I was applying to the PhD program, one of my professors advised me not to accept if I was not given funding. There are only a limited number of spots that are given to incoming students each year that will be accepted as a TA.

In March of 2018 I received notification that I was accepted into the PhD program in International Relations at my university, however, the department could not guarantee funding for me. This put me at a loss, and I spend months wondering where this was going and what I would do. Because I'm an immigrant in the US, though I've been living here practically my whole life, I didn't have too many options. My mobility is constrained.. my access to scholarships is constrained (even though I may qualify for them in terms of academics and merit, migration status trumps over all of it). I was lost, to say the least. My family can't afford to have paid for this program or a Master's program out of pocket, and I am not able to take out student loans even if I wanted to.

Regardless of this all, I still attended the incoming graduate student orientation; which surprised the outgoing graduate program director. She did not think I would show up, considering the whole funding predicament. She and the new GPD told me that they would try to find something for me. On the first day of class, I showed up, still not knowing what would become of this situation. Not knowing if I would actually get to start the semester or not. We are usually given a week to pay tuition - because of status, I am considered an international student so my tuition came out to nearly $10,000 for three courses. That day, out of nowhere, I was told that the dean of our school (School of International and Public Affairs) was looking for a graduate assistant for new projects that he wanted to work on. In the span of a few hours, I ended up interviewing with him, being told that they would let me know because there was another student they were considering, and later being called and told that I got the position. I was ecstatic. I called my parents in tears. This was actually happening; I was actually going to be able to start my PhD.

It all happened so fast. It all seemed so exciting. The dean seemed very enthusiastic and pleased that I would be working with him. Things eventually took a turn for the worst...

Transitioning into graduate school itself is extremely difficult. Many graduate students find themselves experiencing heightened stress and strain on their mental health. I did not give myself the space to transition into graduate school without the added stress of being a doctoral student, without the added expectations. On top of that, the dean had not had a graduate assistant before. This was new for him too. The expectations of me were blurred and my contract would only last for a year to be considered for possible renewal (the typical TA contract in my original department lasts 4 years), this led to disaster. I needed this position to continue to fund my studies, so I needed to make sure that I was on top of my work expectations. Because these expectations were unclear, the dean's secretary took advantage. It seems they were short staffed, and I was given administrative tasks that did not belong to me. I was made to come in to the office for strictly 20 hours a week. (Our contract states that we work up to 20 hours a week). If I was ever sick and missed a day, that would be added onto the hours for the next week. So if I missed a day where I was supposed to be in the office for 5 hours, I'd have to be there for 25 hours the following week. A breach in the contract, I know - but who was I, a lowly student, against the dean? This office (a shared space) was not a place where a person could focus on studying. There were students coming in and out, loud conversations occurring, and having to see if the actual student employee in charge of taking phone calls was at their desk - if not, I would have to man the phone. While I was doing administrative tasks for the dean's secretary, the dean was having me create themed presentations and CO-LECTURE with him. Me, a person who had been an undergraduate student only months earlier. I had to create these presentations from scratch and know all of the material. All of my focus had to be on this. My performance in my own classes and mental health declined quickly. I could not focus, I could not get my reading assignments done, I felt unprepared. I felt like a failure.

After a year, I realized that it was not worth to have my tuition paid for if I could not focus on my classes and was set up for failure. It took a lot, but ultimately I turned down the contract renewal. Here comes the fun part. My GPA dropped tremendously. I graduated Magna Cume Laude just a year before. I developed depression and didn't realize it; to the point where a friend practically made me go to counseling. The office manager at my actual department knew what I was going through. I had shared a lot of my experience with her. She advocated for me. Because of this, I was told that there was a student who had been awarded an assistantship for the incoming Fall 2019 semester, but had decided not to take it. The contract was going to be made for me instead, for not 4 but for 5 years since I had only come in with a BA degree. When they ran it through the associate dean's office... it was denied. My GPA was lower than the threshold. A LOT lower. I was told by the GPD - the same woman who had just started her position that said she would help me, the woman that had gone on maternity leave during that whole year after she started meaning she was not aware of the situation - that I should really take my studies more seriously. She received a very long email from me and apologized afterwards, to say the least. Nothing could be done.

I had no funding, only savings and ended up working Full Time in Fall of 2019 in order to try to pay for 1 course, that costed me a little over $3,000. Somehow, even though I strongly considered it, I managed not to drop out. By this time, the majority of the courses I had taken before had INs - incomplete grades. Two of them had automatically turned into Fs. Things were not okay.

I got a bit of a mental break during that Fall semester. I worked in a friendly environment. The office manager pulled some strings and let me work as an office assistant there... so I was still at my department, but working as staff. It was a little awkward. I'm eternally grateful to her, she became a close friend. And because of her, someone at another department got word that there was a graduate student who needed funding.

This office manager was good friends with a recently graduated phd student from our department who is now working for a different center in the university. Because she was part of my department, many of my current colleagues know her, and are good friends with her. We spoke, I rushed to get my GPA up to the 3.0 threshold and with the help of my professor's I was able to be awarded an assistantship with that center. I started in December of 2019.

Again, I was ecstatic. Things were looking up. When I went in for the first time, I immediately felt a huge difference. It was a smaller, more homey place; and a lovely environment to be in. The people there were sweet and caring. I've gotten along with the few professors I've had the chance of meeting and working with.

Where did it start going downhill? The professor that recommended me (graduate from my home department) continuously requested that I work with her. Her reason being that I got along better with her (something that I was not aware of). Because she considered herself as my friend, professional lines were horribly blurred. I found myself doing additional work for her as a "favor for a friend." She then started having us meet multiple times a week for hours - distracting from the time I needed to actually get work done. This center does not cap classes - I've had to grade for up to 400 students in one semester. The meetings she scheduled were incredibly unproductive, and I found myself having to take extra time to get the grading done. Again, my own studies were effected. The past academic year went on like this. I ended up assisting in creating a new course and new assignments from scratch.

Later I noticed that something was wrong. I was doing way more work than stipulated by my contract. She was giving me access to her courses that I was not assigned to grade for. Instead of assisting for one course in the semester (the one with the highest enrollment), I was assisting for three. This was constantly under the guise of 'friendship'. How was I supposed to reject my 'friend'? When I tried to draw professional boundaries, I was met with resistance.

My mental health declined again in the fall and I missed a few of her scheduled meetings (meetings which she said were NOT mandatory). Because of this, she decided to throw me under the bus with the director and making it seem as if I was not actually working - when I was addressing students' needs and getting grades in. This worsened in the Spring. With the help of my counselor I finally got the courage to communicate with her. Albeit through text, because she's the type of person that does not allow you to get a word in during conversation.

"On that note, there’s something I’ve wanted to talk about. I’ve been struggling with concentration and fatigue. This is something that I’ve been working on with my doctor to try to find solutions. I’ve noticed that being in Zoom meetings in general where there’s casual conversation makes it exceptionally difficult for me to focus on what I’m trying to get done. This has been problematic in the work zoom meetings. You probably have noticed I seem really quiet, that is because I’m trying my hardest to focus.

I need to be able to focus during the time I’m assigned to work as a GA. Otherwise, I must take more time to complete tasks that normally wouldn’t take up that long or just wait until the weekends to finish them. That is conflicting as I have set that time to work on class assignments and my own projects. So in the end I end up falling behind and not working well because my productivity levels are being affected."

She seemed to understand me and be supportive. Then I noticed coldness, and condescending passive aggressive texts from her part.

I realized that I could not do this any longer. I could not allow myself to continuously be taken advantage of. Both of the people I've worked for were aware of my vulnerable situation due to migration status. They both knew that it was not easy for me to pay for my studies through any other means. My studies depended on these people, and if they 'liked' me. They abused and absorbed my time to the extent that my studies suffered tremendously.

But I finally stood up for myself. I spoke with the director and she affirmed that my concerns were valid. Time and time again she assured me that my studies should always come first. She supported me. I will no longer be assigned to work with this person.

I finally feel heard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been 3 years since I started my program. A lot has happened in this time. I have a lot of catching up to do this summer if I want to stay on track and take my comprehensive exams by the end of the year. But someone finally heard me, acknowledged the wrongdoings and helped me.

Don't let people walk over you and take advantage of you. I'm learning this the hard way.

Speak your truth.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s R&S - So-called Disparity (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (“所谓差距”) will not be released in EN or any server as it’s one of the cancelled R&S which came with the Dream Heart Lake gacha event!🍒

This is a full translation, so you can follow along with the narrator if you want to!

Summary: Goldman recognises that the gap between him and Victor isn't actually that large - it simply spans the Amazon River.

Cancelled Victor R&S:

> flashback 

> six out of seventeen

> paradise on earth

[ Chapter 1 ]

Goldman entered that university as the third highest scorer in his entire province. Before that, he always felt like students who jumped off buildings in high school were mentally weak, and were making a fuss out of nothing. It was only after entering university that he knew how blessed he was to be a frog in the well.

Goldman has always had a pretty good mentality. A normal person would require a semester to get used to the psychological gap of being a big fish in a small pond instead of a small fish in a large pond. However, Goldman only needed two weeks - to be more exact, thirteen days, to adjust. 

In his own words, it was something like this: “There is sky above the tallest mountain, and there is land under the deepest sea. This is very normal. I’ll never do something which puts me at a loss like jumping off a building. I, Goldman, have an eighty year old mother and an eighteen year old girlfriend--” before he could finish speaking, the neighbouring scholar snatched the reins of the conversation.

“I couldn’t tell at all. Just because you say something, it doesn’t mean it’s true. Show me a photograph!” The air in the surroundings of the dormitory, which was originally full of pretension, was altered by Goldman’s words.

In a sense, Goldman had a talent for being a “coordinator”.

The first time he heard of the name “Victor”, Goldman had experienced life as a university student for a month.

“Do you know the guy from 207? The one from the economics department... I can’t remember his name right now, but he’s the one who dresses very stylishly and always has a group of ladies running behind him.”

“Ah, I’ve seen that guy before. I think his surname is Gu. What about it?”

Goldman continued cutting voting slips for the student union, but his ears had long since developed a mind of their own, eavesdropping on the two people engaging in idle conversation. 

“He seems to have invested in a business run by a few third year students, and they even promised to return him thrice the principal amount in a month.”

“It’s obviously a trap.”

“Let me finish. I originally thought so too, but that guy actually bought a new car!”

“Could his family be wealthy to begin with? Come to think of it, being able to buy a car means the amount he invested as a principal sum must have been quite a lot.”

“Who knows. Anyway, he has been advertising for those third year students recently.”

“Are you stirred?”

“I am, but it was a recruitment for an intern assistant. The opportunity to earn thrice the amount is gone, tch tch tch.”

“If you think about it, If we could learn how to earn thrice the principal amount, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to be an intern.”

“It’s not rare to see such businesses come to a premature end halfway. What if you end up wasting your time if you can’t prove that you did an internship there?”

“That’s true. Also, I’m not even certain what it is they do... it feels a little weird and scary.”

The speaker didn't mean it, but the listener heard it. That night, Goldman knocked on the 207 dormitory, and heard the name “Victor” from the man whose surname was Gu.

Even though he just experienced the blow of seeing a Gold Olympiad medal in the room of this scholar, Goldman was not to be trifled with. If other people didn’t dare to test the waters, he won’t be the first one to stupidly try.

Which is why in the following year, Goldman adopted a wait-and-see attitude. 

-

[ Chapter 2 ]

Goldman interacted with Victor in person in his sophomore year, after he thought to look for an internship.

At that time, the newly established company which was still in its incubation stage was not Goldman’s first choice. But as a full-time sophomore, it was difficult to guarantee the prerequisite GPA in order to receive an offer from the top 500 companies. Which is why decided to try knocking on the doors of the new company.

At first, what went through Goldman’s mind was - if this company was unable to develop, he’d just go somewhere else. After all, there was still time to find other internships.

In the end, halfway through the interview, Goldman realised that the issue wasn’t whether he wanted to join the company, but whether it was willing to give him a fighting chance. Those who fluently recited their prepared lines and rehearsed repeatedly said that they failed to be accepted into the small company called “LFG”.

In actuality, Goldman’s self-introduction was cut short not even after thirty seconds, by a sharp-eyed man with short black hair.

“I only have one question. What will you do?”, with an emphasis on the word “you”.

Goldman noticed that when the young interviewer asked this question, the other interviewer had a hand to his forehead.

“Huh?”

In just two seconds, Goldman was left dumbfounded. However, as a student leader from the student union for such a long time, he reacted quickly after a slight pause, and started talking grandiloquently about his experience of attracting financial support for businesses.

This was an experience Goldman felt proud of and thought could prove his capabilities, which was why he was full of confidence as he talked about it. 

He didn’t expect that... it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the interviewer, who, at a glance, looked like he wasn��t good to get along with.

“I’m asking what you, Goldman, will do.” It wasn’t even a question this time. Separated across the table, Goldman could easily sense the other party’s brimming impatience.

“Ah, Goldman, don’t be anxious. What Victor means is that if you weren’t endorsed by the school, do you think that company would still support you? And what is the reason for that?”

Thanks to the other interviewer, Goldman’s interview could continue. 

When Goldman left the company, whatever impression he had of that “saviour” was merely an outline - his short hair was dyed brown, and he looked pretty easy to get along with. Apart from that... he couldn't remember anything.

The thing he remembered was that sharp gaze, that impatient tone, and that emphasis on “you”.

Oh, so that’s Victor. 

Always observant, one moment didn’t slip past Goldman: the interviewer with the genial expression looked at the CV on the desk before calling his name. 

But Victor didn’t.

On hindsight, Goldman wasn’t sure how he managed to pass the interview. Perhaps it was because Victor chose based on impressions?

Just like the moment he met Victor in person - even though he was stunned by Victor’s aura, there was a sense of expectancy and admiration in his heart. 

Vice versa - Did Victor also experience something back then - a shred of “good feeling” which explained why he allowed Goldman to pass the interview?

But Goldman would never have the courage to verify the answer to this question with Victor.

Even more so when the reputation of LFG grew, causing Goldman’s courage, which wasn’t very large to begin with, to shrink even further.

-

[ Chapter 3 ]

In the year of his graduation, Goldman had a few choices:

One - pursue postgraduate studies in his major as the top of his class. Two - accept one of the offers from the world’s top 500 firms. Three - continue staying in LFG and working together with Victor.

Goldman eliminated the first option - he was in no mood for further studies. Back then, the reason why he entered the country’s top university was to find a good job in the future. Now, since he already had the second option in front of him, doing a postgraduate wouldn’t mean anything to him. 

Goldman had a long struggle between the second and third options. He even specially called his parents in his hometown to seek their opinions.

“Being a trainee is essentially meant to train me to become part of the management in the future. If I go to that company, I just have to work hard and one day, I’ll make it big.”

“Mm, and a large platform means a stable job, and a broadened view. As for the salary... it’s around this amount at the start.”

“If I stay at my current company? I’d probably continue getting scolded by my boss every day. Although the prospects aren’t bad, it might close down anytime.”

“Boss? Oh, actually, he’s a senior who’s older than me by two years. I’ve interacted with him for two years, and he’s all right, just that his temper is a little bad.”

“How do I have a bad temper? Mum, you have no idea that compared to him, your son is piteous little sheep who hasn’t even learned how to hurt someone!”

“And I wasn’t mistreated or bullied. Your son’s skin is tough like iron! It’s not like you don’t know it. Also, I'm not the only one who gets scolded by him. If he only scolds me or can’t tolerate me, why would I follow him? Your son isn’t that silly.”

“Anyway... I feel that following him has enabled me to learn quite a lot of things. I’ve also thought about it - to use my youth to give it a try, and if I really can’t do it, I’ll find another job.”

“My classmates from different fields? They’re either inheriting a business, or going overseas for advanced studies, and can’t give me any advice at all.”

“I’ve been so worried these two days. Mum, which one should I pick?”

Talking garrulously on the phone, Goldman was best described as “a baffled person on the scene.”

[Note] The first part of an idiom is used here - “当局者迷，旁观者清”, which loosely translates to “The person at the scene is baffled, but the onlooker sees clearly. It refers to how outsiders tend to have a better perspective on matters.

He was completely unaware that he had already made an important decision during his discussion with his mother. 

-

[ Chapter 4 ]

Although Goldman had indeed made a decision after graduation that only a hot-blooded youth would, he wasn’t the type of person to get frenetically excited over something.

As a man, he even allowed himself to wallow in a gloomy mood for a few days each month. This “dejection every month” became all the more inevitable when his understanding of Victor gradually deepened.

At the very beginning, he wanted to learn things from Victor, and from LFG. Honestly speaking, Victor did teach him how to get multiple returns on a principal sum in a short period of time, and he was also exposed to the many rules of the market. But there were still many things that he just couldn’t get a hold of no matter how hard he tried. 

For example, strategising. For example, structuring.

The gap between himself and Victor... how should he put it, it wasn’t that large - it simply spanned the Amazon River. Even though the gap wasn’t as frightening as the Mariana Trench, it was still a distance that he couldn’t cross through sheer hard work. 

How did the proverb go? All roads lead to Rome, but some people were born in Rome. Whether it was Victor’s thinking or his vision, these were things Goldman couldn’t learn.

Sometimes, he felt discouraged when thinking about it. Despite being born into a good life and having handsome features, Victor was still so hardworking. In that case, was there even a point for a normal person like Goldman to work hard?

On one particular day, when he was harbouring such a dejected feeling, he accidentally spilt coffee outside Victor’s office. To make matters worse, Victor was sitting in the office, witnessing the scene of the coffee being overturned.

Goldman was certain that he would get chewed out by Victor: Just like the time when he made a mistake and missed an underselling opportunity, had an incorrect financial leverage, and pasted wrong labels on documents, etc...

Or maybe he’d hear a clicking of the tongue, or receive a glare. But he never expected that this time, Victor’s response only comprised of four words: To err is human.

“Boss, are you talking to me?” At that time, Victor was not yet LFG’s CEO. 

“...who else? Would I be talking to myself?”

Oh, it’s that familiar tone and familiar taunting, there’s nothing wrong - that was what the junior thought.

“Boss, are you in an especially good mood today?” At that time, Goldman was not yet as overcautious as he is.

“...I guess so.” A pause followed. When the senior opened his mouth again, it was uncertain whether it was an invitation or not. “The company going public is something that is more or less done discussing. When the time comes, I’ll need a CEO assistant.”

Such a light tone caused both parties to involuntary think of what happened during the interview a few years ago.

“...if you do that again.” his gaze was cast towards the mess on the floor. Victor’s tone was as calm as always. “I’ll do an external recruitment.”

Only after three seconds did Goldman understand what Victor was saying.

In just three seconds, the Amazon River became the limpid, clear stream outside his old home.

In this mirror-like stream, Goldman suddenly saw himself clearly:

Actually, Goldman had never sought to possess Victor’s air of a monarch.

To him, it was enough to be acknowledged by such a “king”.

After three seconds, apart from “dejection every month”, this little assistant had another motivation to press on.

-

Other cancelled R&S: here

Lucien’s cancelled R&S (by other user): here

[banshatheblademaster]

*catches my breath after holding it for weeks* IT IS DONE!!

well, at least the antagonist squad is! meet The Takeover, lead by wed couple Aila and Oz. little summary texts for them all under the cut ^^

Selky Seavers In her short life, Selky has faced many struggles. From the death of his father, their families debt due to his mother gambling all their money away, to being thrown out of home at the age of 15, he still wonders sometimes how he made it this far. Unable to find a good workplace, she works low-pay jobs where she helps out at the local Orphanage and Kindergartens in Ninjago City she can occasionally provide herself a place to sleep at night, but still, she has to resort to beggary. On the streets of Ninjago City, in a desperate and potentially life threatening situation, he met Aila. She promised her a home, food and money, in exchange for helping out with a mysterious “project”. Seeing no other choice, he accepted, but soon regretted what he got himself into...

Pyrin Mill Pyrin often thinks about how different things could have gotten if the Mills dropped dead before stealing him away just a year after he was born. But since they’re not around for him to ask anymore, he decided that baggage is better left in the past. It’s not like he doesn’t have enough to deal with in the present time: Lies upon lies he told to protect himself piled up in such little time and before he knew it, his face was quite well known among the Ninjago crime scene and a lot wanted to see that face removed from it’s body. He was sure he’d die once they caught him, but a stranger who introduced himself as Oz offered a hand in exchange for his service. The thought of a life after this event didn’t pass Pyrin’s mind as he agreed, letting Oz finish off all the fugitives. Despite constantly internally questioning the morals of Oz and his wife more and more, he can’t help but be reminded that he owed Oz his life, and that -in his position - Oz also had the power to take it...

Tourma Langfield Tourma - for one - doesn’t mind her heritage. She may have had a rocky start, joining the scene in Ninjago City as quite a bit of a wallflower among the criminals, but what mattered most is that she got her jobs done! Taking all of the risks, even those endangering the lives of others, it didn’t matter, in fact, she found it quite thrilling. However, there would always be an exception to this rule - her long time friend Aila. Sure, she’s made acquaintances here and there - some ending worse than others (cough, Ronin) - but Tourma would always have Aila’s back, and Aila knew that when she sought Tourma’s help for a plan her and her husband had developed. Their loyalty is mostly one-sided, but it seems like there will never be a time Tourma either sees or accepts this fact...

Oz Hendrick Slate The Slates may not be the biggest celebrities in all of Ninjago, however, they do have quite a lot of recorded history about their lineage and the scholars and professors of their bloodline. Oz, just like his brothers, always knew he wouldn’t differ, being certain very early on where he would direct his studies at, but it wasn’t until years later he’d receive what - to him - was the greatest gift he could have asked from his ancestry. Annoyed and frustrated with the constant destruction his home town was exposed to at the hands of the ninja, he moved out immediately after finding a place where he could continue his studies. His choice fell on Stiix, and while not the most interesting place petrologically, he was certain that there would be no problems with the ninja in a quiet place like this. While meeting and getting closer with Aila Smite, he made a remarkable discovery inside an underwater cave: A type of stone that could absorb souls and make their powers accessible to the stone’s wielder. Shortly after getting married to Aila, the events of The Preeminent manifesting inside Stiix took place. The battle between ghosts and ninja left the home and the smithery of Oz and Aila completely destroyed, and they had no choice but to move back. Arriving back in Ninjago City, he continued studying the Soul-stealing stone that he lovingly dubbed Riftstone, as he grew more and more angry the more destruction he saw in Ninjago City. Eventually, Oz inherited his grandfather’s heaps of paperwork, including scripts from before even he was born. Among them, he made yet another remarkable discovery: One of them was a detailed description of a ritual for summoning Ghosts from the Departed Realm into the real world, without the need for any relict, only needing the script itself and a blood sacrifice. Deciding he has had enough of power being so recklessly handled by the ninja, he shares his findings with Aila who, to his surprise, shares the sentiment and shows him what she’s been working on. Together, they found The Takeover...

Aila Slate A quiet ocean view, the sounds of the sea, and the heat of fresh iron blades have been all that filled Aila’s heart for the longest time growing up. She was sure that nothing bad would ever happen in her beloved home Stiix, even if times got rough. The older she got, she - of course - retired this sentiment with her newly found experience. The first tragedy that struck was the death of both her parents. Being the sole heir, she took over the families’ smithery at age 17. The kindness, though hidden in rough facades, of other citizens purchasing from her as support made her feel like she made her parents in the departed realm proud. Pride became routine and she became just as rough as every other face passing through the paths in Stiix. The violence with which she saw the ninja handle crisis in Ninjago City on tv was revolting and, just like a few other screaming soldiers who had come around the bar to watch tv, she proclaimed how glad she was that nothing like that would happen here. She met Oz while working on an ambitious passion project, and the two shared such a deep enjoyment of theirr respective professions that one could listen to the other on end. They felt like this happiness could pass them through hard times, but that illusion was doomed to be shattered when the Preeminent entered and Nya flooded the city, crushing down Aila’s and Oz’s shared home - all of her dead parents’ belongings inside - and the smithery that has been theirs for generations. Everything destroyed in an instant. Aila’s greif turned to rage. She tried hard to get back together the money for reparations, but nobody complied. Her and her husband moved to his old home, only to see the ninja destroy more and more. The two grew quiet toward one another until Oz shared what he has found in the belongings of his grandfather. And what he found in the waters of Stiix. She decided to tell him what she had been working on in private for so long: a highly transformable mech with multiple modes that sits closely to the skin and can barely get damaged due to it’s use of various stones and metals. They were thinking the same thing. This power abuse had been going on for too long. And it had gone too far. It was time for new people to take over!

[rocknvaughn]

New Colin Morgan Interview with Edge Media Network about Benjamin - UPDATED

I am reblogging this because, after the author was made aware of an error in the posting of his article (if anyone clicked through to read it on the site, there was a whole question and answer that was repeated), the error was corrected and another three questions and answers were added! I am correcting it here, but they were very interesting, so I suggest you read the full article again!

I shall post the link at the bottom, but I wanted to type it out so that non-English speakers could more easily translate it. (This article was listed in their “Gay News” section of the site, hence the focus on the gay roles.)

British Actor Colin Morgan: How the Queerly Idiosyncratic ‘Benjamin’ Spoke to Him

by Frank J. Avelia

In writer-director Simon Amstell’s sweet, idiosyncratic, semi-autobiographical comedy, “Benjamin,” Colin Morgan plays the titular character, an insecure filmmaker trying to resuscitate his waning career (at least it’s waning in his mind) after one major cine-indie success. Benjamin is also doing his best to navigate a new relationship with a young French musician (Phenix Brossard of “Departures”).

Thanks to the truly endearing, multifaceted talents of Morgan, Benjamin feels like an authentic creation--one that most audiences can empathize with. Sure, he’s peculiar, has a legion of self-esteem issues and an almost exasperating need for acceptance as well as an inconvenient talent to self-sabotage the good in his life. But who can’t relate to some or all of that?

“Benjamin” is one of the better queer-themed films to come out in recent years, in large part because it eschews emphasis on the queer nature of the story. Instead, the film is a fascinating character study with Morgan slowly revealing layers and unpacking Benjamin’s emotional baggage.

Morgan is a major talent who has been appearing across mediums in Britain for many years. His London theatre debut was in DBC Pierre’s satire, “Vernon God Little” (2007), followed by the stage adaptation of Pedro Almodovar’s “All About My Mother” (2007), opposite Diana Rigg. Numerous and eclectic stage work followed (right up until the Corona shutdown) including Pedro Miguel Rozo’s “Our Private Life” (2011), where he played a bipolar gay, Jez Butterworth’s dark comedy, “Mojo” (2013), Arthur Miller’s “All My Sons” opposite Sally Field (2019), and Caryl Churchill’s “A Number” (2020), to name a few.

His TV work includes, “Merlin” (playing the wizard himself), “Humans” and most recently, in a very memorable episode of “The Crown”. Onscreen he can be seen in “Testament of Youth”, “Legend” with Tom Hardy, “Snow White and the Huntsman” and Rupert Everett’s take on Oscar Wilde, “The Happy Prince.”

He’s played a host of gay roles in the past on stage, screen and TV.

EDGE recently interviewed the star of “Benjamin” about the new film and his career.

Why Benjamin?

EDGE: What drew you to this project and were you part of its development?

Colin Morgan: It’s always the strength of the script for me on any project and Simon’s script was just so well observed, he managed to combine humor and poignancy in delicate measure and when I first read it I found myself being both tickled and touched. Then reading it again and from “the actor” POV... I knew it would be a real challenge and uncharted territory for me to explore. I auditioned for Simon and we tried it in different ways and then when I was lucky enough for Simon to want me on board, we began to work through the script together, because it was clear that this was going to be a very close working relationship... it was important for the level of trust to be high.

EDGE: I appreciated that this was a queer love story where the character’s queerness wasn’t the main focus. Was that also part of the allure of the project?

CM: I think Benjamin’s sexuality is just quite naturally who he is and therefore that’s a given, we’re on his journey to find meaning and love and there’s certainly a freshness to what Simon has written in not making sexuality the main focus.

Great chemistry

EDGE: Can you speak a but about the process involved in working with Amstell on the character and his journey?

CM: Simon and me worked very closely over a period of weeks, at that time prior to shooting I was doing a theatre project not far from where he lived so I would go to him and rehearse and discuss through the whole script all afternoon before going to do the show that night, so that worked out well. It’s so personal to Simon, and to have had him as my guide and source throughout was fantastic because I could ask him all the questions and he could be the best barometer for the truth of the character; a rare opportunity for an actor and one that was so essential for building Benjamin. But ultimately Simon wanted Benjamin to emerge from somewhere inside me and he gave me so much freedom to do that also.

EDGE: You had great chemistry with Phenix Brossard. Did you get to rehearse?

CM: Phenix is fantastic, Simon and me did chemistry reads with a few different actors who were all very good but Phenix just had an extra something we felt Benjamin would be drawn to. We did a little bit of rehearsal together but because it was a relationship that was trying to find itself there was a lot of room for spontaneity and uncertainty between us, which is what the allure of a new relationship is all about, the excitement and fear.

Liberating process

EDGE: Did your process meld with Amstell’s?

CM: I’ve said this a lot before and it’s true, Simon is one of the best directors I’ve worked with. Everything he created before shooting and then maintained on set was special. We always did improvised versions of most scenes and always the scripted version too. It was such a creative and liberating process. That is exactly the way I love to work. And for a director to maintain that level of bravery, trust and experimental play throughout the whole shoot stands as one of the most rewarding shooting experiences I’ve had.

EDGE: When I spoke with Rupert Everett about “The Happy Prince,” he very proudly boasted about his ensemble. Can you speak about working with Rupert as he balanced wearing a number of creative hats?

CM: Again, this was an extremely rewarding project to work on and quite a similar relationship as with Simon in the respect that Rupert was the writer/director and Oscar Wilde is so personal to him. And then we also had many scenes together in front of the camera, so Rupert and me had a real 3D experience together. It was a long time in the making. I was on board, I think, two years before we actually got shooting so I had a lot of time to work with Rupert and rehearse. He really inspired me, watching him wear all the different creative hats, such a challenging and difficult job/jobs to achieve and he really excelled--plus we just got on very well.

Playing queer roles

EDGE: You haven’t shied away from playing queer roles. Do you think we’re moving closer to a time when a person’s sexual orientation is of little consequence to the stories being told, or should it always matter? Or perhaps we need to continue to evolve as a culture for it to matter less or not at all...

CM: That’s a hard question to answer, I think certainly the shift in people’s attitudes has changed considerably for the better compared to 40 years ago, but there will always be resistance to change and acceptance from individuals and groups whether it be sexuality, religion, race, gender--we’re seeing it every day.

Evolution is, of course, inevitable, but if we can learn from the past as we evolve that would be the ideal. Unfortunately, we rarely do learn, and history repeats itself.

EDGE: You were featured prominently in one of my favorite episodes of the “The Crown” (”Bubbikins”) as the fictional journo John Armstrong. Can you speak a bit about working on the show and with the great Jane Lapotaire?

CM: I had an exceptionally good time working on “The Crown.” Director Benjamin Caron, especially, was so prepared and creative, and made the whole experience so welcoming and inclusive. It was an incredibly happy set, with extremely talented people in every department, and I admired the ethos of the whole production and have no doubt that’s a huge ingredient to its success, along with Peter Morgan’s incredible writing.

I was also a fan of the show, and it was an honor to be part of the third season. And I can’t say enough amazing things about Jane Lapotaire. We talked a lot in between filming, and I relished every moment of that.

EDGE: You’ve done a ton of stage work. Do you have a favorite role you’ve played onstage?

CM: I’ve been so lucky with the theatre work I’ve done, to work with such special directors and work in wonderful theatres in London. I’ve worked at the Old Vic and The Young Vic twice each, and they’re always special to me. Ian Rickson is a liberating director, who I love. It’s hard to pick a favorite, because the roles have all been so different and presented different challenges, but, most recently, doing “A Number,” playing three different characters alongside Roger Allam and directed by Polly Findlay, was a really treasured experience, and I never tired of doing that show, every performance was challenging as it was.

Miss the rehearsal room

EDGE: You were doing “A Number” earlier this year. Did you finish your run before the lockdown/shutdown?

CM: Just about! We had our final performance, and then lockdown happened days later. I feel very sorry for the productions that didn’t get the sense of completion of finishing a run. I mean, finishing a full run leaves you in a kind of post-show void anyway, even though you know it’s coming, so to not know it’s coming and have it severed must be even more of a void.

Memories of performing just months ago seem like such an unattainable thing in this COVID world right now. I can’t tell you how much I’m hoping we get back to some semblance of live performance.

EDGE: What was it like to appear onstage opposite Dame Diana Rigg in “All About My Mother?”

CM: Well, I think “iconic” is an apt word for both the experience of working with Diana and the lady herself. In between scenes backstage we used to talk a lot and we got told off for talking too loudly, so Diana began to teach me sign language and we would spell out words to each other, maybe only getting a couple of sentences to each other before she was due on stage and I had to get into position for my next entrance-- we did a radio play together two years ago and she remembered, she said, “Do you remember A-E-I-O-U?” signing out the letters with her hands.

EDGE: None of us knows the future in terms of the pandemic and when we might return to making theatre. I’m a playwright myself and find it all supremely frustrating but I’m trying to remain hopeful! Where are you right now in terms of the standstill we are in and what the future might hold?

CM: Yes, I’m so worried for theatre. It’s a devastating blow. I’m sure as a playwright, you know that the creative spirit in individuals hasn’t been diminished by this virus. People are creating important art in this crisis but we need the platforms to present it and bring people to some light again out of this really scary period, but it needs to be safe and it’s a worrying time. The virtual theatre approach must be looked at I think. We need to experiment and find new paths at least for the time being. I’m involved in developing some things right now and how we can work on things in both an isolated and collaborative way. It’s entirely counterintuitive to what the family-feel and close bond of a group in a rehearsal room is like-- I miss the rehearsal room so much!-- but we can’t sit still, we must create and we must act.

What’s in a role?

EDGE: Looking back on the great success of “Merlin,” what are your takeaways from that experience?

CM: Some of the most treasured memories of my life will forever be connected to “Merlin,” the cast, crew, production, everyone! The invaluable training of being in front of a camera every day! The chance to inhabit a character and live with him for five seasons! There’s too much to list and words probably won’t do justice anyway, but I’m truly grateful for everything the show gave me.

EDGE: How do you select the roles you play?

CM: I guess they select me in a way. I can’t play a role unless it speaks to me and provokes me in some way, but ultimately it’s the characters that I have a fear about playing, not knowing how I’m going to enter into the process of living them, when I don’t have all the answers it’s a good indicator of a character I must play. If I have all the answers, there’s less scope for exploration and discovery which isn’t as interesting for me.

Link here

[soranihimawari]

A Day in the Life:

word count: tba

rating: kuroo x reader (fluff)

warnings?: none i can think of.

^ this is how I envision this “Yennie” ^

p.s. happy birthday to the crafty captain. ✌🏼

Apparently being the strong and silent type was quite an eloquent way to put one Kuroo Tetsuro. He was a senior in your business administration course in college while you were looking for an elective course. Hence why you are both here in the lecture hall, side by side. You weren’t expecting the hall to be so crowded so early in this semester, but alas, your were proven wrong. Throughout the preliminary lecture, you find out a few things about Kuroo Tetsuro: one, he is extremely loyal to his schooling proven by the lightweight notebook and tape recorder he sets up on his desk; two, he is an avid fan of dogs as seen by his wireless corgi headphone case; third, he went to NEKOMA high school as dictated by his obscene choice of business casual attire which included a cat pin.

“LN, Yennie,” you hear your name being called for roll.

“Present,” you answer with your hand raised.

Your professor continues on with the list. This professor was in the middle of roll call when you and Kuroo lock eyes for a moment. It was as though you have finally seen each other for the first time. Rumor has it on campus that the man has been a rather very busy guy and has dated around for a little while. Currently, he is not seeing anyone, but it’s more than likely because he was fixing to graduate toward the beginning of the next semester. You, on the other hand, had number theory left to take and you too would be walking the same stage as he would come spring of the following year if everything goes according to plan.

“Today, we’ll be going over the syllabus. My name is Professor Wyn,” the professor drones on about their past accomplishments. One of them being he was in the opening of the DOW Jones market one year in New York.

“Fascinating,” you mutter to yourself. You scoff as you take notes about the buzz words used for this class. You were always a numbers kid: you could do the probability bit relatively easy (it was the damned marbles problem in third grade that honestly got you hooked on mathematics). Today was just another day out of the ordinary, yet it was one of intrigue for one Kuroo Tetsuro. As soon as you revert back to note taking for the syllabus, the young graduate candidate was eyeing you with a curious stare.

Hours later, Kuroo makes a phone call during his evening break at the cafeteria. On the other line he hears Kenya rustling about with a few game consoles:

“You should of seen her, Kenma,” Kuroo says. “She’s got this long thick hair and irises I bet look like iridescent bubbles in the starlight. I might be in love…”

“Kuroo, you only have her in one class, dude. Don’t work yourself up over an impulsive need to get in her pants,” Kenma states. The gamer turned entrepreneur says exasperatedly while turning on the final piece of equipment for the next stream he will be hosting.

Kuroo scoffs explaining that he wouldn’t try anything to jeopardize that aspect of his playboy persona. Wishing his best friend a strong signal strength for his stream, the call ends.

With the semester end quickly approaching the university, you were relieved to find there would be a four day week due to a snow storm shutting down most of the train stops leading to campus. You were pleased with the weather gods for this development. Over the last couple of weeks, your partner for a business presentation had become impossibly close. It was like you couldn’t go anywhere without hearing Kuroo’s infectious laughter. Although he was deemed department playboy, you’ve come long enough to not necessarily call him an acquaintance, yet you’ve seen other sides of his studious nature. He is a goal-getter, he is a bit prideful, sometimes even speaking up for you when an annoying ex tried to vie for your attention during study hours at the dorm hall. Kuroo was a lot kinder than you thought, always coming up with some scheme to get you to notice him (or rather, scold him). If he was flirting with you, you brush it aside because you wanted to get a rise out of him:

“Let’s go on a real date after this,” he said one afternoon. He was walking you back to your dorm on the northern side of university campus.

“You buying?” You asked. There was a glint in your eye when you stop to turn to him. Kuroo smirks when he confirms that he is and you laugh.

“What made you think I wasn’t?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Student loans was the first thing I thought of, Tetsu.”

“I’m Tetsu now?”

“Shut up.”

You punch his shoulder softly. He grunts as he plays along. His eyebrows pinch together as he rubs the invisible bruise. You reach the downstairs hall of your dorm when Kuroo lets you in on a little secret.

“Wait,” you begin to say after his confession. “You’re not a playboy? You were just genuinely helping these girls out by posing to be their s/o because of x,y,z reasons?”

“Hah,” he bows his head. “Yeah.”

“Ah, I see,” you nod. “…I know I’m not one to pry, but it is because you wanted to grab another girl’s attention? Like showing you how much you do care despite gaining the playboy persona from the rest of your department?”

“Maaay~be,” he answers in a sing song attitude.

You release an exasperated sigh from your lips. You chew your bottom lip feigning nervousness, yet you think it best to try to confirm your previous thought ever since the run-in with your pompous ex.

“And does this girl have long dark hair like mine?”

“I-ugh…”

“Mmhm, does she also have a lot of notebooks themed with chibi-cat stickers her little cousins stuck on when she was babysitting them? Also, does she takes notes with it?”

The look on Kuroo’s face was much more gratifying for you the moment you continued to describe yourself and your once annoying addiction to mix almond M&Ms and Recee’s Pieces in popcorn during a student film festival (which he finds endearing and can’t have popcorn any other way now).

“And is she painfully single waiting for me to ask her out to the new trattoria on the other side of the city center?”

Neither you nor Kuroo notice how much closer you two started gravitating toward the other until his hands rest easily on your hips. You look up the moment you rest your hands against his biceps. You two were dressed causally today since there were no presentations where a ‘business’ casual attire was enforced; you decide it would be best to tease him too instead of answering him flat out.

“Maaay~be,” you parrot. You search for any doubt in these amber orbs of his, when you see none, you raise your arms to pull him into a tight embrace. He closes his eyes when he rests his head on your shoulder, feeling you smile against the fabric covering your collarbone.

“Meet me here at seven Monday,” you softly say. You run a hand through the bottom part of his unruly hair.

Kuroo nods before raising his head away from the comfort off your shoulder, his lips press against your temple before he takes his leave for the day. He calls out to you over his shoulder before you walk inside your building confirming the time and day. Monday couldn’t come fast enough especially since every Monday thereafter would be spent with your former classmate, who unequivocally captures your heart that night.

[otomeramblings]

And then the Sun Shone so Bright

Pairing: None; Tenma-centric A/N: hhhh I’m sorry this took me so long! I was having a hard time finding motivation to write during these past 2 weeks. But! inspiration finally struck. I originally was gonna make this romantic but then parts of the song gave me natsugumi feels and well, here we are lol But also! I’m sorry I didn’t include Kumon but I haven’t read episode 6 yet;;; Thank you so much, @chewie-santatoast​​!! You’re very kind and I’m glad you like what I put out there!! I hope you like this one too and thank you for requesting~~ 

🎵 Song: Best of Me by BTS 🎵

As Igawa finished sending a message, he pocketed his phone and lifted his gaze to see Tenma still eyeing the rack of keychains in the back corner of the store. The bags with sweet treats they had picked up still hung from Tenma’s wrist as he stood there, one hand on his hip and one on his chin, clearly trying to find something.

After shooting wrapped up, they went to one of the local bakeries to buy some souvenirs for Tenma’s theatre troupe. It was something he had taken the habit of doing and while he was surprised by it at first, Igawa was fast to encourage this new development; after the first time, he always made sure that whenever the boy had a shoot out of town or overseas, they would always be able to find a moment in their schedule so that he could buy something he could bring back.

They had been doing some window shopping after successfully purchasing the treats when Tenma stopped in front of one of the stores and insisted on going inside.

If he had to venture a guess, Igawa would say that the object that had originally caught Tenma’s attention was the small bonsai keychain that now dangled from in between his fingers. He couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed in his face at that; Tenma’s love for bonsai, while strange in the eyes of his peers for a boy his age, was actually something Igawa himself had grown incredibly fond of since it was one of the topics (besides acting) that actually made Tenma ramble with excitement. Since he had already had his hands on it, though, Igawa had an inkling as to what he was now searching for.

After a few minutes, and having four more keychains in his hands, Tenma strode towards the register. As he placed the items on the counter, Igawa could see that his hunch had been spot-on. Tenma threw a quick glance his way and he must have seen the way in which his manager was fighting back a smile because he quickly spoke up:

“They would just bug me later if I only got one for myself.”

“Of course, Tenma,” he replied with a small nod. It was an excuse but Igawa knew better than to try to get Tenma to admit it, so he didn’t press for more.

As his eyes inspected each of the designs as the cashier rang them up, he understood what had taken the boy so long when he was picking them. He could tell exactly which one would go to each person just by looking at them. Igawa admittedly didn’t know the members of the Summer Troupe very well, but he had gathered quite a bit of information from his conversations with Tenma.

Next to the small bonsai tree, there was a little white kitten wearing a pink bonnet;

“Dammit,” Tenma clicked his tongue seeing the traffic-jam they were stuck in. “I know it’s frustrating but can’t you let them know that you’ll be late for rehearsals?” Igawa spared a glance his way and saw that Tenma was already typing something on his phone. “Yeah, but that’s not the problem,” he grumbled. “We are trying on the new costumes today and Yuki’s already difficult enough normally. I don’t need to give him another excuse to call me- a hack, oh for the love of-.” Judging from the exasperated tone in his voice and the quick typing that followed, Igawa could guess what response Tenma had received and he tried his best to squash down his amusement before commenting again. “Yuki? That’s….Rurikawa, right? You mentioned he’s in charge of making all of the company’s costumes? He did a really good job for your debut performance.” After seeing the state in which the theatre was, a part of him had honestly been worried about the production quality, but he had been blown away by it and the costumes were one of the things that had impressed him the most. “Yeah,” Tenma sighed before putting his phone down. “I hate to admit it, but the kid’s got some real talent in that department and he has potential in acting as well. Now if only he could do something about that snarky attitude of his,” Tenma complained but Igawa could hear the tint of fondness that hid in his tone behind his initial annoyance.

next to it, there was a pink crown with white and gold accents;

“Is that a new script?” Igawa asked when he saw the manilla envelope resting on Tenma’s lap once he entered the car. He knew Tenma wasn’t scheduled to shoot anything soon but it wouldn’t be long until the Summer Troupe started their rehearsals for their new play. “No, this is one of dad’s old scripts.” Seeing the surprise on his face, Tenma added: “I asked him if I could lend it to one of my troupe mates and he agreed.” “Oh?” “Yeah, remember when dad had to play that prince character in a drama?” He did remember; that performance had earned Mr Sumeragi a couple of awards when he was just starting his career. At Igawa’s hum of affirmation, Tenma continued: “Well, one of my troupe members wants to act in a similar role in the future, so I thought giving this a look would help him have a more concrete idea of what it’s like.” Igawa nodded with a smile. “His acting and his presence on stage still need some work, but I think reading this can not only motivate him but also give him some inspiration since it has all the annotations dad made on it when he used it.” Tenma was using that determined and straightforward tone that often laced his voice whenever he spoke about anything related to acting; it reminded him that despite his young age, he was a professional through and through. One thing that had always been true about Tenma was that he was a perfectionist and someone incredibly proud of his work; because of that, he expected that everyone met the same standards he had for himself. That hadn’t changed after he started performing with Mankai, but the way he went about it when talking to his colleagues was definitely different and he was now seeing exactly where it rooted from.

next to that one, there was probably the most unique keychain of the bunch: a small almost translucent triangle protractor,

“Is that homework?” Igawa asked as he closed the door of the trailer. Tenma paused his furious scribbling when he heard his manager’s question and the guilty darting of his eyes told the answer before he even opened his mouth. “......no…...I’ll do it after I finish this!” he scrambled to answer. Igawa sighed a bit in response; Tenma hated doing his school work and usually he would push him to work on it but since he knew that there was a professional tutor in the dorms that could help him, he decided to let him off the hook this time.

“So, what were you writing then?”

“Oh!” Tenma’s eyes lit up at the question. “I just thought up a few ideas I want to try out the next time we have to do street acts. Some of them are a bit advanced but I think Misumi and I could pull them off.” “Really?” he inquired, sitting across from the boy and taking a sip from his coffee. “Yeah.” he shook his head as he closed the notebook. “Misumi’s talent is kinda terrifying; if we could do something to help him focus more, he could probably be as good as me.” Igawa’s eyebrows shot up at that since Tenma was not one to give out praise freely to anyone. If he recalled correctly, Ikuraga’s performance had probably been the second best on their show next to Tenma’s, so while he was shocked by the admission, he could definitely see where the actor was coming from. “I didn’t know you started putting stickers on your things.” Igawa pointed out when his gaze fell on the notebook. “What? No, I don’t-” Tenma exclaimed but stopped himself when his eyes landed on the stickers that adorned the back of his notebook. An ice-cream cone, a slice of watermelon and onigiri surrounded a bigger yellow triangle that had a few words scribbled on with a marker. Twisting his neck, he was able to make out the words: “Good luck, Tenma~~!! (*^▽^*)”

and, finally, there was a paint pallet with a small brush dipped in green paint.

“Yes, yes, I’ll ask him about it. Yes, mom, I won’t forget. Okay, bye.”

“Everything okay?” Igawa asked once Tenma hung up, his eyes focused on the road. “Huh?” the boy asked absentmindedly as he opened another app on his phone. “Yeah, it’s nothing serious. She told me she wants a copy of the poster of Water Me! since it was our first performance. I told her that they already had the flyer with the picture but she says it’s too small, so I told her that I could probably ask Kazunari to make another copy since he’s the one that designed the final version.” He was trying to act nonchalant about it, but Igawa could hear the pride in his voice, happy that his parents were openly acknowledging and accepting his theatre career.

“It is an important milestone,” the manager nodded and then added. ”And it was a beautiful poster.” Tenma hummed in agreement. “Yeah, Kazunari can be obnoxious as hell but he’s got a real eye for design. All of the company’s posters and our website are a testament to that,” he admitted as he scrolled on his phone. “He’s probably gonna be over the moon once I ask him for a copy.” They had arrived at the dorms so Igawa could see Tenma rolling his eyes in what could be mistaken for exasperation were it not for the slight smile on his face. He had seen Kazunari Miyoshi once after their first (eventful) meeting and in that occasion the older boy had Tenma in a side hug while they took a selfie together and what had caught Igawa’s attention was that despite the fact that Tenma didn’t really like taking selfies with people (besides the occasional fan), the protests that came from his mouth were half-hearted at best and it didn’t take long for him to settle and smile for the picture. After it was taken, he could hear Miyoshi saying he would caption it with “Nothing better than some Ice-cream after rehearsals with TenTen!!”

Each of the keychains had gold chains and gold borders and detailing, making it obvious that they were part of the same set despite the wide variety of designs.

As the employee put them all in separate bags after Tenma told her they were gifts, Igawa couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth nor the fondness that seeped through his voice when he said: “I’m sure they’ll love them.”

The actor just shrugged in response. “Of course they will,” he replied with confidence but his manager could see the redness in the tips of his ears.

Tenma had always been a good kid. Arrogant and too blunt at times, yes, but never with the intention of hurting others. However, being in the spotlight from such a young age had isolated him from his peers and his parents' constant travelling only served to make him build even more walls around himself; be confident and keep your head up, your work is what matters, that was the motto by which Tenma lived his life and that was a big detriment in any interpersonal relationships he could have formed. But now, seeing him fuss over which souvenirs to bring to his friends, the deep mark the Mankai Company left on him was glaringly obvious. 

He remembered the genuine concern he showed when his parents wanted him to quit. It was one of the few times he saw Tenma’s eyes tainted with fear; and at first, Igawa had thought he had been afraid of the possibility that this project he had worked so hard towards would be crushed, but later on he learned that it was more than that, it was the fear of having to let go of the people who had managed to bring down his walls and had put their all in supporting him so he could turn his past regrets into victories.

Tenma had never looked happier than he did now and that translated to his acting as well; he still carried himself with confidence but now there was also a lightness to his steps that wasn’t there before. Igawa knew that Mankai and the Summer Troupe probably didn’t really understand how much they had truly helped Tenma become a better version of himself in every sense but he would forever be thankful for it.

🎵 Part of the song-based requests [closed] 🎵