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fandom-lover2 · 2 months ago

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Sacrifices - Pt 2

Word Count - 2146

Part One

Part Three

Optimus was grateful for his battle mask, now more than ever. Only his optics could show his panic.

And, knowing Megatron as well as he did, Optimus knew Megatron could see it, and smirk across the warlord’s faceplates telling Optimus Megatron was getting the exact reaction he wanted.

4 Decepticons, 4 glass canisters, 4 vulnerable humans, 4 keys.

Optimus was surprised it had taken Megatron this long to locate the humans. While he had done everything in his power to ensure they would remain safe and undetected by the Decepticon intelligence, Soundwave’s methods were far superior then any of them could ever imagine.

Starscream stepped forward, wordlessly handing over the case that held you to his master.

Optimus lost the battle of not looking down at you, and when your eyes met his optics, his servo clenched around the Star Sabers hilt.

For someone so close to death, you seemed unnervingly calm. But your eyes, your eyes showed the truth.

Acceptance. You had accepted you were going to die.

Optimus almost stumbled back as his words repeated in his processor, over and over again.

“You speak as though your life means anything to me.”

You had accepted you were going to die, because Optimus had told you as such. He had declared loud and clear for you to hear that his own desires would always be put above your life. Had announced that your life, your future and your dreams, were nothing to him in the grand scheme of his existence.

He was going to let Megatron kill you, open your cage and let Cybertron’s atmosphere kill you slowly, painfully. He would watch on without so much as a flinch, perhaps even turning his back and begin the process of rebuilding his home.

Home? Was Cybertron still his home?

After all he had done to his planet, all the loves lost in his war, was this metal shell still his home? Would it still welcome him back? Or was it you, and your vibrant planet that now held his spark.

Things were happening around him, but Optimus could not look away from you.

Starscream taunted the Autobots, clawing at Jack’s prison. The young man, how much he’d grown since their first encounter, stated clearly for all that he was willing to die for Cybertron and the Autobot cause. His brave, little companions agreed with his statement. And, Optimus knew you felt the same.

Even after all he’d said to you, done to you. Even after the pain he had caused, you were still right there, willing to give everything up. For the team.

The team he had told you you were not a part of.

Behind him, Optimus could feel his fellow bots moments from losing control. Weapons aimed, battle stances ready.

Would they stand down if he told them to? Would they continue with the mission if he decided that 4 human lives were not worth the restoration of Cybertron?

“Perhaps we should oblige them?” Megatron taunted

How fleeting human lives were. What was considered a decently long human life span was nothing but a blink of the optic for a Cybertronian. If the humans did not die today, they would die eventually. The humans would die long before the Cybertronians had aged a year and they would be left to mourn their friends. Since arriving on Earth, Agent Fowler was their third human liaison. The first died decades ago, the second grew too old to work. Fowler was nearing that age now, when he would step away and a new human would fill his shoes.

And yet, these four little humans had had more impact on his soldier’s lives then any other human had.

“Optimus.”

The prime was pulled back to the present, called back by your voice. He looked at you, into your steady gaze.

“Don’t.”

How silly you were, thinking you could change his mind.

It wasn’t a question, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Your life was not worth Cybertron, Cybertron was not worth your life.

He felt sick, horrified at himself that you had thought he wouldn’t fight with everything he had to save you. He hated himself that he’d allowed you to even have a moment of hesitation about what your life meant to him.

From the moment the space bridge portal had opened and he’d seen you and your fellow humans, he knew what his decision would be.

Nothing, not Cybertron, not his life, not The Matrix, nothing would mean more to him than you.

“If my decision dooms the future of the Autobot cause on Cybertron, so be it. But I will never forsake our human allies.”

Optimus speared the Star Saber into Cybertron’s surface with more force than was needed and began to step back, rejoining his fellow Autobots. Without so much more than a glance, they began to disarm themselves.

So, they were all in agreement then.

One by one, a key for a human child, until all that remained was one. Smokescreen held the final key, and Megatron had you. Wordlessly, Optimus held out his hand, a signal for the newest member of the team to hand over their final hope.

Each step towards his enemy, he felt heavier and heavier. This was it. The last hope for Autobot life on Cybertron, and he was giving it away for a human. Giving away the hopes of his people and his planet for one single human.

Optimus was before Megatron, the only space between them your cage. Optimus kept his eyes locked on Megatron, his battle mask up. He couldn’t look down at you, wouldn’t. He didn’t want to see the confusion, the concern, the uncertainty.

It should have been relief, it should have been a sigh of relief. It should have been, but it wasn’t because he had made you believe you would die on his planet and now you could not comprehend why he was saving you.

He had failed. Failed you. And now he was failing his mentor, his people, his fellow Primes.

But, he was saving you.

He held out his key in one servo, and extended the other in expectation. Megatron extended his servos in turn, holding you out in one and wrapping his digits around the key with the other.

For a moment, neither one released either, but then Optimus’ grip on the key lessened just a smidge and Megatron opened his servo.

Not expecting the sudden weight, you fell to the hard metal surface of the dead planet. Optimus lunged to grab you, your canister bouncing once before he managed to grab you.

Luckily, the glass did not shatter, but within you winced.

Optimus barely had the chance to look you over before a second ground bridge opened and Decepticons rushed through.

One Autobot with an occupied servo could not take them all. Spinning, Optimus sprinted to the safety of his team, disposing you with the rest of the trapped humans.

The Decepticons surrounded the Autobots, blasters raised and keeping them in place as Megatron, Starscream, Knockout and Soundwave activated the Omega Lock with the Keys.

Everyone watched, transfixed as the mechanism powered up.

A keypad appeared, and Megatron selected something. With a shake and a shudder, the circle shot out a bream of blue light, the energy streaking across the expanse of the barren landscape and encompassing the ruins of the Iacon Records Halls.

Optimus watched in amazement as the building began to rebuild itself, within a few seconds transforming from the blackened ruins to the once sparkling tower Optimus once knew.

It worked. The Keys worked. Cybertron could be restored, would be restored. His home would be restored again.

Bumblebee said something, the humans making various noises of amazement, you remained silent. Briefly, Optimus flicked his optics down to you.

You were seated in your cage, hand raised to press against your forehead. Red stained your fingers, blood leaking from a cut.

Megatron must have caused more damage than he realized.

He needed to you get and your fellow humans off this planet. Who knew how much oxygen you had in those canisters, and what would happen once Megatron used the Keys to begin widescale restoration.

“This conflict is between Autobots and Decepticons.” he started. If he wanted to get Megatron to listen, he’d need to tread carefully. “Allow me to return the humans to Earth.”

“Oh I wouldn’t recommend it.” Megatron started, turning to address the Autobot leader. “They’ll be far safer here.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” you spoke up.

“Is the Space Bridge locked on target?”

“Per your instructions, Lord Megatron.” Starscream bowed.

“Excellent.” Megatron purred, turning back to Optimus and locking optics with him. “Why rule one world, when I can rule two…”

Megatron was a sadistic, megalomaniac, power hunger monster, but he could not be this insane? Could he?

Far above, a ground bridge opened up. Megatron turned back to the consol and hit the activation button. Once again the Omega Lock powered up, and shot a beam of raw energy through the swirling green vortex.

“No.” Optimus could not find any others words.

“What’s he doing?” you asked, struggling to stand. When your guardian did not answer, you changed it to a demand. “Optimus, what is he doing?”

“If the Omega Lock can restore Cybertron, then it will do the same to Earth, right?” Miko asked before Optimus had a chance to speak.

“No. It will cyber-form your planet in favor of its new matrix. And destroy all indigenous life in the process.”

There was no reason to sugar coat it, not after all you children had been through. You deserved the truth.

“Such raw power.” Megatron began to ramble. “What should I call my new domain, New Koan? How about Gilded Earth?”

Optimus knew Megatron was taunting him, and it was working. He’d given up the chance as restoring his planet and you were still in danger. In fact, now you and every human on your planet were at risk.

Optimus looked to you human companions, held by their guardians. They fought against their glass prisons, spewing threats at the warlord, like it would make him change his mind.

Megatron laughed at their attempts, his followers joining his as they watched the scanners display how much of Earth was being lost.

Optimus looked down at you, and found you already looking up at him, fear marring your face.

It was a lot easier to face your own death than to stand by when facing the deaths of all those you love and care for.

Optimus’ processor was bombarded of all the times he’d heard of the humans mention their families in passing, every meadow and lake and mountain he’d stopped to admire for just a moment on his patrols. He saw the hill you and he had spent a late night sitting on, looking up at the clear night sky as he retold stories from Cybertron before the fall.

All of that would be lost. And, once the oxygen ran out, you would die too.

Optimus took a moment to plot his course, and then he charged. Slamming away a Decepticon, he raced towards the Star Saber.

Ripping it from the ground, he arched it through the air to disable two more Cons before racing to meet a roaring Megatron. Their swords collided, bouncing off one another. Megatron had size and strength one his side, but Optimus had something to fight for.

With a clean slice, Optimus literally disarmed Megatron, but he didn’t have a moment to waste. Every second the battle drew on, more of Earth was lost.

Optimus moved faster than he’d done in many cycles, deflecting blaster shots and leaning right so Starscream’s missile sailed past him.

Using the treacherous seeker, Optimus used his body to vault himself into the air, gaining the momentum needed to swing down, embedding the Star Saber deep into the Omega Lock.

He had not the explosion to be so big. It blasted him back, sending out a wave of fire all around. It was as he was airborne that he prayed someone had managed to grab ahold of you before the force sent you flying.

Hitting the ground in a roll, Optimus righted himself instantly and looked around. The rusted structure was now blackened by the flames, small fires dotting the charred circle. He did a quick headcount, finding all his Autobots and humans accounted for.

Ratchet spoke to him over the comm link, sounding desperate. Optimus was just as urgent in his request for a way back to Earth. If Ratchet was still able to contact them, that meant the base was still intact. Who knew how much else of Earth was still organic.

Securing his sword to his back, Optimus followed his team through the Space Bridge. He needed to make sure you received medical attention.

#tfp optimus x reader #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus #optimus x reader #optimus prime #tfp #transformers prime #transformers x reader #tfp x reader

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iamgonnagetyouback · 3 months ago

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different ⋆˚࿔

synopsis ⭑.ᐟ tom riddle x reader where he is going to need a lot of work

warnings: none

word count: 621 words

navigation┆tom riddle masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

It was a rare night off, the corridors of Hogwarts quiet as students retired to their common rooms, yet you and Tom Riddle found yourselves slipping out to the Astronomy Tower. He’d been in the library since lunch, flipping through ancient volumes, and you figured he could use a break. He begrudgingly agreed after you challenged his sense of adventure, muttering something about foolish whims but unable to turn down the gleam in your eyes.

The two of you stood close on the stone balcony, gazing at the stars scattered like fine dust across the velvet sky. A cool breeze stirred the air, the soft hush of it contrasting with the silence between you.

"When you look at the stars, what do you see?" you asked, watching his face from the corner of your eye. A flicker of something amused softened his expression, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Blazing balls of gas,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Why?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Tom, it’s supposed to be romantic. Inspiring. Don’t you see anything else up there?”

He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “What am I meant to see, then?”

“I don’t know,” you teased. “Maybe… galaxies stretching endlessly, a reminder of how small we are in the grand scheme of things. Or… constellations formed by gods who loved each other, stories woven into the sky.”

He raised an eyebrow, a glint of something unreadable in his dark eyes. “And what does that mean to you?”

“Means there’s something up there bigger than us. A sort of beauty you can’t see just by reading books,” you said softly, looking up again at the sparkling canopy. You wondered if he could see it the same way, or if he was too absorbed in ambition to look beyond what was directly in front of him.

He let out a small, contemplative sigh, and you could almost feel him softening beside you, though he tried to maintain his usual composed demeanor. “That’s a rather poetic view, but hardly practical.”

“Not everything needs to be practical,” you murmured. “Not even for you.”

A brief silence stretched between you, and the only sound was the gentle rustling of the night breeze.

“Look here,” you pointed up, aiming to shift his focus. “That’s Orion, the hunter. And over there, the Pleiades.” You traced the patterns with your finger as he followed with his gaze, his face unusually relaxed as he watched you.

"You know, you’re going to need more work than I thought," you said with a chuckle, leaning closer as if to pass on some secret knowledge.

"Am I?" His eyes flickered to you, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“Mmhm.” You leaned against the stone railing, facing him now. “You know so much about everything, yet when it comes to seeing things differently…” you trailed off, shaking your head with a playful smile.

"Different isn’t always better," he countered, but the smirk softened, his eyes holding yours with a rare spark of intrigue. “But perhaps… it’s worth entertaining your way of thinking. At least for tonight.”

"Just for tonight, hmm?” you replied, pretending to consider it. “I’ll take it.”

He chuckled—a low, rare sound that surprised you, but you couldn’t help but smile back. “If only to satisfy your foolish whims.”

The two of you returned your gaze to the stars, his shoulder brushing yours. And while Tom Riddle might not yet see beauty in constellations or romance in a night sky, there was something warm and unexpectedly soft in his expression tonight—a glimpse of the boy behind the brilliance.

Perhaps, you thought, looking up at the stars, there was more beauty here than he realized.

#tom riddle fluff #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom marvolo riddle #ivy writes ⋆.˚#dividers by bernardsbendystraws #tom riddle drabble #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #dividers by adornedwithlight

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chisubi · 14 days ago

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from the lovers’ grave — h. ran

content. fem!reader, one (1) suggestive scene near the end, something about grief, mourning, and love

word count. 10.7k

note. this was not meant to be long. originally, all i had planned was the scene with ran and rindō at the end talking and the confession scene for practice (i hate confessions) i am not sure what happened . . . also, this is unedited.

In the grand scheme of things, there were more good times than bad.

Of course, there’s no denying that during their teenage years of growing up, at some point, things have been deteriorating. Spiraling and spiraling and sprialing. They were just boys being boys, doing the only things they knew how to do, fighting and surviving; those moments were full of fun, exhilarating, a temporary bliss in this little corner of the world of theirs.

However, boys like them don’t live for long. They aren’t meant to. Just like how the saying goes: live fast, die young. Ran supposes the saying is true. Many of the people he’d known died before reaching adulthood, just like him — Kurokawa Izana. That’s just life, after all.

His funeral is a simple one. Nothing grand, and rather than how plain it is, it is more surprising how someone without a family – an orphan – is able to have a proper funeral. People like them never have one, forgotten by everyone and everything. And the one who stays forgotten by the world is Izana [to no one’s surprise], except for the few remaining members of the S-62 generation. Multiple police officers that keep a keen eye on all of them, and none of them are stupid enough to try and escape on a day like this — their bond with Izana is worth much more than that. It wasn’t something so shallow.

There are no decorations besides the white chrysanthemums and white lilies sitting in front of an old picture of him — a picture of when he first was admitted into juvenile detention all those years ago, he looked so young, his eyes were the same then as they are now. Dead. No sign of light. His cold body lies in a plain wooden casket. It’s an empty, stifling ceremony.

Shion is uncharacteristically quiet, and that alone would’ve been an insane sight if it were another day, but everyone understands his silence today. Nobody mentions it. Nobody says anything at all. It’s so silent, each breath drawn echoes, and something feels extremely off about the ceremony — something that has Ran glancing around the room every couple of minutes.

An obvious reason for this is how Kakuchō is not here; that kid would never miss this for anything, everyone knows this, and Ran can assume what happened. His injuries must be quite severe, and it’s rather a miracle that he had woken up, heck, even much earlier than the doctor’s expected. A sign of God’s mercy (and for a moment, in that cramped cell, Ran is a believer of faith). If Kakuchō is still awake, there’s no doubt he would be longfully staring out that white hospital room. Those cold, sad eyes of his watching the way the snow falls, burying the world.

And the other reason is how at the front of this cramped room, right next to the casket, sits a girl Ran has never seen before. It's alarming. Your head stays down as you only look at Izana, you haven’t bothered to look up since they have entered the room earlier. Ran can’t help, but wonder who you are. Who you are to Izana. An outsider to the S-62 generation that Izana had built from cold, scarred hands for delinquents like him. Ran wants to know so badly, but he is too tired, and now isn’t the time to focus on people he doesn’t know nor cares about.

Ran slips the singular white flower into Izana’s folded hands, all stiff, scarred, and freezing cold. A body of a dead man. He decides to place another: Kakuchō’s offering. Perhaps, that kid’s prayers would reach him, his heart has always been more pure than all of theirs combined, a softer soul trapped within this cruel world. Ran doesn't know why, but he whispers to Izana that he is sorry (he doesn’t know for what — maybe, everything), yet his eyes dwell on you.

When you turn and catch his curious eyes, he doesn’t look away; neither do you. Attempting to smile, it’s almost as if he’s looking straight into a mirror; a shiver runs down his spine.

He smiles back.

—

August tastes like cigarettes and bitter cherries. Just like it had last year in February, when blood, bones and ash had fallen and scattered around Yokohama that cold night, moments before the snow began to fall down. Gradients of whites and reds painting the town.

It’s a rather cool evening for a summer day when Ran finds himself visiting Yokohama after so long (even after his release, which had been quite some time ago, he hasn’t stepped foot here). There’s melancholy lingering in the air, much like how it always clings onto to long summer nights. Ran welcomes this, allowing his feet to lead him. Anywhere, everywhere, or nowhere at all. He just walks down the bustling streets, endlessly.

Something feels strange. . . Something is going to change this summer, something big; the unexpected always comes to people like him.

Downtown, there's a small bar that catches his eye. There's nothing too special about the shop — decorated with tacky neon flickering signs. Open, reflecting within his eyes. There's something inside of him that tells him he needs to enter, and so, he does just that.

And that feeling of his comes true within minutes. Ran sees you again. Coincidentally [or perhaps, fate, or by total chance].

The Izakaya isn’t really filled with people; either due to it still being early, since work hours are still going on or it just isn’t popular among the many identical shops along this street. And he should’ve invited Rindō to come with him; who enters and eats at an Izakaya alone? Ran has never gone out to eat or drink alone before, either way, it’s not like he’s a kid, so it doesn’t really matter that much, but he knows Rindō will be bitching to him about going out to eat alone. Well, that’s something he’ll have to deal with later.

Ran sits down at a table for two; ordering a small plate of yakitori and umeshu, something sweet and cold to drink. A waitress comes over and places his food down, his eyes widening at a familiar face, he speaks before he thinks, “Do you remember me?”

Your brows draw together, you look him up and down, then shake your head. “I. . . I am not too sure. I don’t believe so. Have we met before?”

He pauses. Disappointment swirls in his stomach, sinking. He tries not to think about why it makes him feel that way — like, disappointment is normal, but he knows he’s not someone unforgettable. “No. I must’ve been mistaken. Sorry ‘bout that.” He offers you a polite smile and that’s when he sees your eyes widen in recognition, the bar’s yellow lights flickering in yours; shining, shining, shining.

His finger glides against the rim of the glass cup, as he waits for you to speak — he knows you will say something. The ice cube clinks against the glass.

Clink. . . clink. . . clink.

“Oh—! Wait, um, you’re from the funeral. . .?” Uncertain as you carefully utter those words, he confirms this, and your eyes brighten. “Oh, hold on. Sorry, I can’t really talk right now, but my shift ends in twenty minutes,” you drift off, eyes darting toward the old big clock that hangs on the wall. You hopefully ask, “Wait for me?”

He nods. “Yeah, sure,” Ran casually says, ”take your time.” You thank him with a smile.

[Twenty minutes turn into fourty, and for some reason, he stays and waits for you. The yakitori was worth it, anyway. He’s grown to appreciate the taste of plums a little more today, too. It’s sweet.]

The both of you don’t say much tonight. Only indulging in introductions and small talk. The pier isn’t so far from the Izakaya, barely a ten minute walk away. When the two of you sit on the ledge, close yet not close enough to be touching, it’s all silent. Not a comforting one — one where the air feels thicker and there’s this itch where he feels as if he needs to say something to break this awkward tension. Curiously silent, because Ran has a lot of things to say — things he needs to know, but that can wait for another day.

“It’s a little breezy tonight,” you attempt to break the silence. He can tell there’s a lot on your mind, too, but you probably won’t say anything either. Not tonight, at least.

He offers, “Would you like my cardigan?”

You shake your head, declining. “No, but thank you. You might get cold without it.”

Relief runs over him when you decline because he is cold, he tends to get cold easily (which is something he and Rindō argue about because Rindō always, always, always turns the heat down in their apartment because he gets hot easily, even though Ran tells him not to touch it), and doesn’t like sharing his clothes or anything he owns with anyone. But Ran is a gentleman, or so he tries to be, girls feel special when he acts like this, and he likes making them think that. Well, sometimes he does. Sometimes, he doesn’t know.

“If you say so. That was my one and only offer so don’t complain after,” he halfheartedly teases (he still thinks you should’ve accepted it, because anyone would’ve if he was the one offering, but that’s your loss, really).

Maybe the way he was joking misses, because you simply reply, “I won’t.” And he hums. Silence falls over again.

“He was such an idiot,” your voice is anything but harsh when you say this. So soft, fond, a whisper of love. Too angelic, Ran is sure it will never reach him. He almost misses your words under the waves, too.

He doesn’t know who you are to Izana. A part of him understands, though. No matter what you two were or who you are, he knows you have loved Izana so dearly, you probably have for a long time. It’s quite obvious, the feeling of him that lingers onto you — he can feel it all.

His fists tightens around nothing, nail digging into his palm. How come he has never seen or heard of you before? Ran knows for a fact that Kakuchō knows you. Does Shion as well? He’s obsessed with Izana, obsessed to an unhealthy degree, so surely he knows or at least has caught a glimpse of you before. Maybe he really didn’t know Izana at all.

It’s kind of frustrating, he thinks.

Ran agrees with you. Though, he doesn’t verbally express it. Izana really was an idiot, a selfish one who was always stuck in his own head, and Ran would never get to tell him that. He’ll never get to tell him anything again. Bitterness, regret, and anger fill him for a split second, only a second, not a millisecond longer, because these emotions quickly fade back into nothing. Nothing because Ran can do nothing, but feel nothing.

“Do—Do you usually sit out here, doing nothing? Watching the world?” he sniffles. It’s summer, midsummer, heat is supposed to consume them, especially during these short nights, but the weather has been strange lately. He’s not even cold, it’s just when the breeze passes by, he gets bad shivers.

The flame of the lighter flickers, you’re lighting a cigarette — he didn’t peg you as a smoker (despite only knowing you for less than an hour at maximum), and he grimaces once he catches sight of a little pink box sliding back into your pocket. Pianissimo. Peach flavoured, of course, he almost snorts.

“Sometimes,” you reply as you breathe out the smoke. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”

You pass the cigarette to him, he accepts, saying, “Nah, it’s fine.” Your smeared lip gloss stains the tip of the cigarette, his lips overlap with the marking, inhaling the bitter smoke to feel that familiar burn, it’s quite mild compared to what he prefers, something sweet lingers within, too.

“Okay, but that was my one and only offer.”

Ran chuckles at the familiar remark, and you let one out, too. “Okay. I get it.” He passes back the cigarette. “A cheeky one, aren’t you?” It comes off more flirtatious than intended, but it makes you smile at him, cheekily.

You’re captured by the moonlit water, cigarette ashes drifting down, down, down, eyes taken by the ashes, his eyes drift back to you, and that sentimental expression you wear.

(Losing someone isn’t anything new. It’s normal in a world like this. He wonders if you know this; you definitely do.)

—

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

“I am sure,” you tell him, “it’s not even a party, it’s just a get together. Go have fun with your boys. Hasn’t it been a while since you’ve hung out like that?”

“Knowing them it will be a party instead,” Kakuchō replies with a short sigh. He has never been too fond of crowds and strangers. You wonder why he is so insistent on you joining, however you don’t ask. You tell him you are sure and want to stay home, before shoo-ing him out the door.

And despite your warnings [nagging, as Kakuchō likes to call it], when you go to see him the next day, you’re met with a hungover Kakuchō and two boys knocked out on his old, leather couch. One of them is barely hanging on, half of his body is dangling off, and you aren’t sure how he didn’t wake up from being uncomfortable. And the other, you are quick to recognise as Haitani Ran.

Kakuchō was indeed right. It’s always a party with the Haitani brothers, you’ve heard this from others before, too. You take a second glance at Kakuchō. Poor, poor, poor Kakuchō, who can barely open his eyes and stumbles his way towards you, more so to what you have in your hand, that glutton, you almost burst into giggles.

You greet him, asking him simple questions like: did you have fun last night? Too much fun, you guess. Are you hungry? And he’s replying to each one with nods and grunts and incoherent strings of ‘yeah’, ‘uh-huh’, and the most annoying one of all, ‘what’. Maybe, you both were too loud because the sound of shuffling behind catches yours and Kakuchō's attention. Both boys are awake — stuck in a similar state as Kakuchō — sets of tired purple eyes peering around the room as if they didn’t even realise they crashed at their younger friend’s place.

After a few seconds, Ran speaks up. “Oh. Good morning.” He doesn’t look too surprised seeing you. His hand ruffles through his wavy hair, smoothing out his bed head as he flashes you a grin. Ran has a pretty smile. He’s pretty first thing when he wakes up, and that alone makes you envious. It’s unfair.

“Hi, good morning,” your voice comes out a little quieter than you wish it had.

Ran is still smiling, as he repeats, “Good morning.” A slight pause as you smile, too. He cocks his head to the side, introducing the boy beside him. “My baby brother, Rinrin,” he lazily introduces.

“Don’t call me that,” the boy [Rinrin] grumbles as he turns to you and gives a slight nod, “Rindō.” Rindō, not Rinrin, bends down to sweep up a shirt from the floor, slipping it back on, covering his tattoo, long black ink that paints half his chest. Your eyes linger for a moment too long, before moving onto Ran, whom for some strange reason, you know to have the other half of that tattoo on his body. They look so different yet alike.

Ran raises an eyebrow, a grin tugging on his corner of his lip once he catches your lingering gaze. Like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He mouths, ‘What?’, you turn your head away, feeling embarrassed. Your body heat rises to your neck, cheeks, and ears.

You can feel another set of eyes on you, not belonging to Ran, however you don’t look back up. You place the homemade bento on the counter, Kakuchō lets out a sigh, “Finally.” You roll your eyes at the boy.

“Sorry, I didn’t know Kakuchō would be having guests, so I only made enough for one person. . .”

You aren’t actually sorry. It’s just a little awkward. Kakuchō could’ve given you a heads up. It feels rude only bringing a meal enough for one when there’s a party of four (though, you didn’t plan on staying over after dropping off his food).

“Nah, it’s cool. We can share,” Ran says.

“No. Let’s order something else, too. I’m starving.” Rindō brings up. You all collectively agree with him because there’s no way the food you had brought is enough for the four of you.

Ran orders yakisoba and soda for all of you. Kakuchō loudly complains when he notices the two of them picking at the food you made for him, even with the yakisoba right there.

—

“So,” Ran begins.

You look up at him. “So?”

“Can I call you later?”

“For what?”

“To see you again,” he replies, “I have a feeling we’re going to keep running into each other.”

“That may be so.”

—

Haitani Ran was right. You do meet again and again and again. Sometimes he will get a call, lips pressing into a thin line, threatening to fall into a frown as he slips into another room for a few minutes before coming out to tell you that he has to go. He doesn’t say what, you don’t ask, but you know. It’s the same thing that has Kakuchō leaving his apartment in the middle of the night, too. You try not to think about it – acknowledge it – it has nothing to do with you.

He stops by from time to time, dropping by whenever he is in the neighbourhood, much like today. You’re no longer surprised when you open the door to be met with that charming smile of his, rather once you hear the familiar sound of knocking or ringing of the doorbell, you sort of expect it to be Ran.

“You play the guitar?” His line of gaze falls onto the acoustic guitar sitting in the corner of the living room.

“Hm? Oh no, that belongs to Izana.” Used to. A pause, before you add, “There was a time when I used to beg him to teach me and he gave up after an hour.”

Ran snorts as his lips curl up. “That’s a good job for you then. He would’ve given up on the guys in less than five minutes so you probably did okay, right?”

You laugh at his words. It’s the truth, because Izana has always been an impatient (impulsive) guy. “Maybe. Kakuchō was able to learn how to play it, and I remember being a little jealous of him because Izana seemed happy to have someone to talk about music with.”

You were jealous, upset, embarrassed at your lack of ability — you thought, maybe you just aren’t talented? You eventually came to terms with it. But there were moments when you would watch Izana and Kakuchō play their guitars (—Izana set money aside and bought a used guitar just for Kakuchō, you assume Kakuchō leaves it hidden away, far away from everyone and everything), the room fills with music and you would be sitting on the couch listening, listening, and listening until you’re slowly drifting asleep to their melodies.

You take a hollow breath.

“Those two have known each other since they were kids. . . Ah, you, as well, right?” he asks and you nod your head in confirmation.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Ran lifts his eyes to meet yours. Ever so purple, beautifully vibrant, like a gem, you’re afraid it could shatter. He smiles, softer, sadder. “I see. The three of you have a special bond then. Something others cannot replicate.”

Your heart races, then pangs at his words. Something special.

Yeah, it is special, you could never forget it. Even if you wanted to.

“Just like you and your brother. The charismatic brothers of Roppongi: the Haitani brothers,” you say, voice light with a small smirk on your lips. “I have heard some stories about you two.”

“Mhm, I bet you have. All good things, I assume?”

You tease, “Maybe, maybe not.”

He chuckles to himself. “So, good rumours,” he concludes with a satisfied look, “I am Haitani Ran, after all.” Definitely nothing good, you both know, or so, you assume Ran knows.

You agree, “That’s right, Mr. Haitani.”

He smirks at the name.

Ran doesn’t ask if it’s okay to touch the guitar, he just takes it, yet you can’t find yourself getting upset or complaining about it. You watch as he plops down onto the couch, patting the spot next to him, indicating you to come over, in which you do. “Ran, do you know how to play?”

He looks over at you and winks, “Oh, honey, that’s what you are about to find out. Keep your eyes on me.”

You roll your eyes.

It’s not even two minutes later, when you do find out, just like Ran had said. You learn he doesn’t know how to play at all. Ran plays the same tune over and over again, or he attempts to, it sounds nothing like the pretty way Izana plays. It’s clunky, off-tune, yet something about it feels tender. So, so gentle; your heart trembles along with the tune. Ran doesn’t seem to care about his lack of skills; lavender eyes softly gazed on the way his slender fingers move against the strings — a faint smile to his lips, rosy and glossy from your cherry lip balm you saw him put on earlier, as he plays Izana’s beloved acoustic guitar.

You remember Izana at this moment. The way he played all his favourite songs — how Bohemian Rhapsody and Under Pressure was played on repeat in his little apartment. How, on this very couch that you and Ran are sitting on, he used to get frustrated at how you couldn’t memorise or understand what he was teaching you (and in your defense, he sucks at teaching, definitely one of the only things he has ever sucked at), and you would cry at his frustration. Izana eventually gave up and instead learned to play your favourite song for you.

You wanted to learn it yourself, but you were so happy at the same time. It felt special. You felt special.

You remember, you remember, you close your eyes, and you remember it all. It dances to the memories every day, a little record stuck on repeat. It’s all you have left of him. What if one day your heart suddenly doesn’t remember?

“Falling asleep to my playing?” His voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

Opening your eyes, all you see is Ran in front of you.

You shake your head and smile at the sight, Ran catches it and flashes a pretty smile back, laughing beneath his breath as he attempts to show off by playing a series of random chords quickly. Giggling at his antics, you attempt to sing along; humming a random tune as the two of you try to match each other, clearly missing the beat. Soft laughter, light teasing, Ran playing the guitar and you singing along fills the room in your apartment. Your hearts dance along, ever so intimately. You feel light, so light, and you haven’t felt this way in a long time.

Maybe you could get used to this (perhaps, you already are).

“I don’t know anything about guitars or any instrument,” he admits, “maybe besides the recorder.” He looks disheartened at the fact as he stops playing and his fingernail taps against the wood, it echoes back.

“It’s okay, I am no good at it either. I also only know how to play the recorder,” only because it is mandatory to learn in primary school. “I am probably better than you at it, though.”

“Oh? Is that a challenge, young miss?”

“Maybe.”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” he says. “Someday, of course.”

You nod. “Someday.”

—

Ran sleeps with you for the first time tonight. After dinner, he was too lazy, and your couch was too comfortable, so he didn’t want to leave, and you didn’t really seem to think of anything when you offered for him to stay the night. He didn’t think much of it when he agreed. It’s so innocent, yet more intimate than everything he has ever known. He feels. . . strange.

Your mattress is quite small, however Ran prefers it this way for obvious reasons. The dip in the mattress that allows you to get closer, he can feel your body heat so vividly, if he closed his eyes he could probably imagine it, except he doesn’t. He just stares at your bare face, who stares back at him.

“Your hair looks so pretty like this, Ran. I like it.” Your compliment makes him smile, it’s not often when someone witnesses his hair down, wavy and what he considers to be a mess. Your finger runs over the loose waves, twirling the end with your fingertip. He thinks you look pretty, too, in your pajamas, and bare faced.

You ask, “Can I braid your hair when we wake up tomorrow?”

“I like my hair a certain way.” He replied without much thought. He almost doesn’t notice that he didn’t necessarily reject the request.

You pout your lips, and give Ran your best puppy eyes — little gems are shooting out of your eyes towards him, but he is not one to fall for that. Do you think he’d be the type to fall for a cheap trick? If he were, he would’ve been screwed ages ago. You picked the wrong person for that. “Is that a no?”

He softly hums, debating to himself. “I am just—” he tries to think of the right word. He just hates when others touch his hair, his clothes, his jewelry, he spends so much time perfecting his appearance — he hates when others ruin it. “I rarely let Rindō touch my hair.” He decides to say this, because it’s something people can come to understand.

“I learn quickly. . .”

He sighs. Not one out of annoyance, more so at how he is so quick to give into your wishes. “Alright, fine. I will teach you how I like it done tomorrow.” You’re lucky that you’re cute, he almost adds.

He bites his tongue.

But he doesn’t know why. He says those types of things all the time. It’s a strange night. He’s been doing things he doesn’t do or say.

You lift your hand to his face, your pinky sticks out, “Promise?”

A pinky promise. Ran almost snorts — he would’ve if he weren’t so tired, if you didn’t look so cute and serious, and he would have laughed if it were someone else. Ran hasn’t pinky promised since he was a kid, barely eleven, promising something mundane to Rindō (the world, Roppongi, a new house, a new life, he remembers, he always will).

He softly sighs, sending you a sleepy smile as he locks your pinky with his. His thumb presses against yours, sealing the promise with a kiss. His eyes flicker down to your soft lips, you are grinning so happily over a mere pinky promise, what a simple thing bringing you happiness. “I promise.”

For a moment, he thinks he could give you something worth more than this little promise — pretty, shiny things that could make you smile even more. But he knows you aren’t someone like that. And that’s fine to him.

If braiding his hair makes you happy, for some weird reason, then he’s okay with it, too.

—

Ran awakens in the middle of the night, the room is coated in darkness, the moonlight shines through the crack of the curtain and that is how he knows it is still night time. He is not used to not sleeping in his own bed, he immediately notices your lack of presence, fingers tracing the empty surface, the side you had slept on is barely warm; you were still here not too long ago.

He slowly gets up, quietly walking down the hall to find you sitting curled up on the couch, on the side that is closest to the wall where Izana’s guitar rests. Unaware of him, his presence, and everything else in the world.

He lingers everywhere in your apartment, your home, your mind. It leaves Ran questioning: when you make a person your home, where do you go when they’re gone? Where do you go? Tell him.

He leans against the wall, asking, “You can’t sleep?”

Your body jolts. Your head snaps up, as you glance in his direction, and you shake your head, beginning to relax. “Oh, Ran. . . No, I was just getting some water.”

He hums, going along with your poorly webbed lie, your heart is exposed bare on your sleeve, so cold, lonely, he glances from the empty coffee table to the acoustic guitar to your unshed tears. You are seriously a terrible liar. That’s a good thing for him. “Do you mind the company?” He doesn’t want to intrude somewhere he doesn’t belong.

You shake your head once again, “No. Not at all.” You pat the spot next to you, and Ran moves from the wall to the spot next to you. You’re watching him silently, sinking back into the cushions.

“Are you thinking about him?”

You tilt your head towards him, sending a weak smile, unable to find the words for an answer that the both of you already knew.

“It’s okay. Sometimes, I still think about him, too.” He assures.

You ask, “You do?” You sound rather surprised, and he is also surprised by his own honesty.

“Yeah. He was. . .” Words die easily on his tongue as he struggles to find the right words to say. There’s not much he can say, despite all of the memories and feelings he once had. What can he even say about Izana? He can’t think of anything nice or normal that one would say about an acquaintance (friend, comrade, boss). “He was an interesting guy. I kinda admired him.”

He was an interesting guy, Ran had thought so their first meeting, years ago back in juvie. He was the only person that left a deep impression on him. Izana was many things. Anything, but a good man. He used to be a good boy (probably), once so long ago. Ran really did admire him, he wouldn’t have followed just anyone. He admired him to the point where he spent his entire youth following the boy.

“I did, too.” Barely heard even in this room containing only the two of you, it sounds a little bitter. Just a tad.

“Yeah, I’m sure he knows,” he says, leaning his head down to rest on top of yours. You breathe quietly next to him, all of the little noises can be heard in this silence. Your legs stretch out, dangling beside his.

It’s a long time before either of you speak. And then, you look up at him. There’s something glimmering in your eyes.

You tell him a story and then two more of your childhood. You laugh and tear up through them. He laughs, stays silent, and smiles as he tentatively listens to your every word. It’s his turn, you don’t ask him, but it’s only fair if he shares something personal with you; something he and only Rindō know. He wants you to know. He wants to tell you sides of him that he’s outgrown and sides that nobody knows. He tells you about the dog Rindō wants to adopt one day, you say you want to see it, but Ran tells you about how he doesn’t really want to have pets in his apartment (though, it’s sometimes hard to say no to Rindō). You tell him about the stray cat you used to feed a few months ago, and how you haven’t seen her in a few weeks. She’s probably fine, Ran tries to assure you, there’s a chance somebody had picked her up and adopted her. You hope so.

The two of you fall asleep on your couch, one far too small for him, curled up, and entangled together. He sleeps so soundly, the cotton of his shirt soaking up your silent tears.

[Ran believes — no, he knows that he visited you in a dream last night. He must’ve. You look so at peace.

The sun hits, orange light shining through the gaps of the curtains, and you look so at peace as you sleep, leg wrapped around his waist as you lay against his chest. His fingers run through your hair, carefully, not wanting to wake you. His index finger ghosts over your cheek and Ran freezes when you shift in your sleep, smiling when he realises you aren’t going to wake.

You must be a heavy sleeper. Or maybe, you’re having a sweet dream and aren’t ready to wake yet.

He admires you for minutes that seem to last forever. He comes to terms with the fact that he’s doomed, and decides he doesn’t want to think about it or you anymore, before drifting back to sleep.]

—

When morning hits (or rather afternoon), Ran stops to look at you before leaving. His hand lingers on the doorknob. “You’ll be okay?”

You nod. “. . . Should be,” you reply, smiling. “See you later, Ran, and thank you.”

His eyes are gazing down at you, his expression seemingly confused — conflicted, before his eyes soften, turning back into pretty little gems. His smile is so pretty. “I’ll call you,” he says.

It’s a promise.

—

It’s Wednesday, your afternoon lecture was cancelled due to the professor’s sudden family emergency, so you invited Kakuchō to hang out around Shibuya. Luckily, he didn’t have any of those meetings to attend. “Are you dating Haitani Ran?”

Your heart almost stops at hearing this.

“What—no, of course, not,” you reply — one far too quick, your voice raises and you hear Kakuchō scoff under his breath. You almost stop your tracks, instead you turn your head in his direction, narrowing your eyes, clearing your throat before asking, “Why are you asking me that?”

He shrugs, opting on not replying to your question, and you frown, pressing your lips into a thin line. When you lightly hit his shoulder, he sighs, giving into you. “You always hang out these days.”

What a ridiculous reason. “Is that so weird? You and I see each other almost daily,” you reason.

Another scoff escapes his lips as if you had just said the most insane thing in the world. He tells you, “I’ve seen him leave your apartment in the morning. More than once.”

“We didn’t sleep together,” you defensively reply. A growing sense of irritation quickly builds inside of you. “It’s nothing like that. I swear.”

“So, it’s nothing.”

“Well, you know. . .” You trail off, looking at the people fleeing in and out of the cafés and clothing shops. You don’t deny it. You don’t know if you should, yet it’s not really anything, maybe something. He’s your friend. Just like Kakuchō. Just like Izana.

He sighs before saying, “You look at him like how you did with Izana.”

You freeze.

Kakuchō steps stop the moment yours do.

You look at him like how you did with Izana. You grow cold from those words alone, your heart tightens by an old memory of Izana flashing by. Those words play on repeat with the memories.

Just like Izana.

You feel faint.

There’s a tap on your shoulder, you notice the guilt on his face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you upset. I won’t ask, you don’t gotta say anything. I get it.”

“No, don’t be sorry, I am not upset.” You aren’t upset, but you don’t know how you are feeling. You know you aren’t upset by his words, but your heart stings. You want to cry, but you don’t understand why. [You do, and this makes you feel like sobbing.]

“Okay, well, can I ask why Ran? Rindō is the cooler brother,” he says.

Why Ran. You don’t know this yourself. You just know you like being with Ran. His presence is comforting, he makes you feel less alone in moments you feel alone. You just like being with Ran. You just want to be around that person. It’s as simple as that.

You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger into his forearm, lightly pressing your nail into his muscle. “You only say that because he works out with you.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. That’s the manliest thing someone can do. And he drinks more than any guy I know, it’s kind of insane, and he will still show up to the meeting the next day.”

You grimace. You could never pull yourself out of bed if you were that hungover — and, well, you’re sure that Rindō is dragged and forced to go to these ‘meetings’. Probably. There’s no way it is solely dedication.

“Right. Don’t be drinking with him, got it?” You don’t need Kakuchō developing even more bad habits. Sometimes you can’t help, but nag, even if it doesn't really reach him (if you were Izana, it’d be a whole different case), always going in and out the other ear. “Kaku, are you doing okay these days?”

“I’m fine, but also, a little hungry.”

“Kakuchō.” You lower your voice in an attempt to sound more serious — threatening, maybe. Obviously, it doesn’t work because Kakuchō doesn’t reply or react in any way. “Come on now. Talk to me, I know it’s something.”

He sighs, his eyes don’t meet any part of you. He turns away, the long, faded scar running across his face becomes hidden. “It’s always like this. In the end, I am always the only one who ends up surviving.” You’d prefer bitterness, anger, or sadness – anything – over the empty feeling in his words. Your heart aches, you don’t want Kakuchō to leave you, too.

You don’t even want to imagine such a thing.

You want to hold him.

Your hand reaches out to grab him, so firm and all of his little scars and calluses are felt and seen. Kakuchō looks down at you the moment you touch him. He doesn’t pull away. “I am sorry to say this, I know you won’t want to hear it now, but I am grateful for that. I’d be sad if you weren’t here with me. You are my family, Kaku. Don’t forget that. So, please don’t say something so sad.”

And he’s quick to look away again, too.

He says, “. . . I’d be lonely without you, too.”

Your hand tightens around his. His hand is warm, like it always is, his body always runs hot, too hot, but he is still alive. You’re alive. “You could at least look at me when you say that.”

He grumbles something incomprehensible, you tilt in your head in confusion, “Hm? What was that?”

“I said, ‘what do you want to eat?’”

“Aren’t you being too shy? I guess you’re at that age now,” you continue to tease him, watching as the tip of his ears turn red. Kakuchō has never been good at voicing his own feelings, he speaks through his actions alone — through iron fists and undying loyalty — just like most of the men you have ever known. You grin at the reaction. “Hmm, well, how about we have okonomiyaki tonight? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The three of you used to eat that quite often back then, Kakuchō would be the one who would always make it for you and Izana. You haven’t had it since then. You’re craving it like crazy now.

“Yeah, sounds good. Let’s find a place less crowded, though.”

He really is still the same. Just older now, maybe maturing and experiencing life in all the wrong ways. But he is still your Kakuchō.

You wonder if he thinks the same of you.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

And similar to Kakuchō, you’ve never been so fond of crowds, either. Arms linked, you walk to an old restaurant owned by a cute elderly couple. You tell him you love him (because you do, since back then and now and in the future), he almost pushes you away right then and there, you burst out in laughter.

Kakuchō sits in front of you, in the past he used to sit beside you, you assume maybe it’s because it’s easier to talk this way. A guess because you aren’t so sure. He accidentally makes an extra okonomiyaki the first round, a habit he cannot erase, you both know why, you don’t say anything. You take the extra okonomiyaki and eat it for him.

—

Ran believes that some things are meant to happen for a reason.

You and him.

Him and you.

He throws a party for his brother’s birthday as he does every single year. He only invites their friends who immediately invite other people they know as it always goes and the apartment is filled to a brim. Just like every year.

You arrive a little later than most people, due to work and having to get ready, and Ran immediately removes himself from a group of people surrounding him (a chorus of boo’s are thrown at him), and rushes over to you.

“Hey. You took a while.”

You’re all smiles around him already. “I had to shower and get ready first.”

“You still look pretty in your work uniform.”

You look up at him, pointedly. “And smell like alcohol and chicken and fish?”

Ran grins, “Not much different from here, yeah? I love eating chicken.”

You playfully shove him and his grin widens as he pulls you into the drunk dancing crowd.

When he makes eye contact with Rindō, who is DJing (like always), his brother is clever enough to change the music to keep the two of you close. Bodies are bumping into him and you, you’re really close and your hands are in the air, in your hair, and on him. People are too close, too loud, too intoxicating. He has to lean down every time you attempt to say something to him — a lot of it is just you singing — and your lips brush against the shell of his ear every time.

Every. Single. Time. Electricity jolts through him.

Hair is sticking to your forehead, face red and glowing from dancing, sweat, and the mixture of body heat; you’re stunning and all Ran can think of is how badly he wants to kiss you when you bite your lower lip when you meet his gaze once again.

He pulls you closer, and it happens within a second. You kiss him first. Lips briefly pressing against his, you’re quick to pull back before he can reciprocate, and you flash him a smile more blinding than these flickering neon lights. He pulls you back in for a proper kiss this time.

Admittedly, this is not your first kiss together. He had kissed you once before – barely a peck – one night when he had picked you up from work and drove you home. It can barely be called a kiss, but Ran would be lying if he said it didn’t cause a shock that ran through his entire body. Later that night, alone in his room, his thumb brushed over his lips and they still tingled with the feeling of you.

This kiss, unlike the previous brief and fleeting exchange, he can taste all of you. Openmouthed, desperate, and a little shameless, too (but he doubts anyone is actually paying attention). Your hands find their way to his hair — much like they always seem to do — and Ran sighs when your fingers run through, gently scratching the nape of his neck. You look up at him with a gleam in your eyes, and he swears he wants to undress you right then and there.

Except, he wouldn’t do that. Plus, a loud whistle and a familiar voice jerks him back to the present (reality). It takes so much in him to hold himself back, he has to physically pull himself away from you for a second. He turns and glares at the interruption — Shion. Obviously. That fucker.

“What?” he asks, slightly annoyed and amused at the boy’s fucked appearance.

Shion grin widens, face glowing with sweat, red eyes, high and drunk on whatever someone had snuck in. Someone sure is having a good time. “Just—‘m just enjoying the show,” he slurs as his eyes make their way behind him, to you.

Ran steps forward and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Shion wobbles with a faint touch. “Go sit down, Madarame. You’re gonna fall over.”

Shion ignores him, brushes past him, and asks you to dance. Ran groans, calling out his name, but Shion blocks out his voice and smiles at you.

So, sure, he and the boys have this thing of cockblocking each other for shits and giggles, but now was definitely not the time for that. He needs to learn how to read the room. Damn idiot. (This is probably Shion’s payback from the last party, and all the times before that, but Ran swears it’s funny when he does it.)

You look from Shion to him and Ran shrugs, as if a shrug is enough to let you know that it’s just Shion, so it’s fine if you wanna dance with him, or not. After a second, you accept his dance with a curt, “Sure.” And Shion smiles, wide with all teeth.

“Behave yourself,” he warns Shion before turning to you. “I am gonna get some water. I’ll leave you to it for a bit.”

Ran walks over to join Rindō at his DJ booth.

Rindō looks at him with a raised brow as he makes his way behind the booth. “You lost your girl to Shion,” Rindō loudly snorts.

“Just letting him be around a girl out of his league for once,” Ran jokingly replies, and they both laugh. “Change the song for me.”

The song switches to something more upbeat; everyone is spinning and jumping, you and Shion, too. He can barely hear his own thoughts through the loud vibrations of the bass. He and Rindō talk about nothing, and Ran lets Shion dance with you for two whole songs. Shion is an idiotic lunatic, especially when he’s drunk, but he’s not stupid enough to do something he knows he shouldn’t. His hands don’t leave your hands, rather, Ran thinks you’re making sure Shion doesn’t let go of your hands, so he doesn’t fall over. Ran thinks you might be too nice. He’s having a good time and so are you, so that’s all that matters. He likes watching you dance, even if it’s not with him.

At some point, he runs to the kitchen to get a cup of water, and when he returns to you, Shion is nowhere in sight. That boy never stays in one place for long.

“Sorry, Shion is an idiot,” he tells you as he offers you the cup in his hand, basically forcing it into your hand to drink.

You chug back the water, no doubt exhausted and dehydrated from all the dancing and sweaty bodies around you. “He’s a funny guy. I had fun.”

Ran gives you a skeptical look. “Guess so, but feel free to ignore him next time.”

You grin, “Really, Ran, he was nice!”

“I sure hope so.” He leans down as whispers against your ear, “My room?”

You nod.

And finally, you’re on top of him. Ran is laying on his back, propped up by his elbows as he watches you take off your top, far too slowly, because you like to tease, and Ran is an impatient man deep down. But in this moment, he lets you do your own thing, and watches, watches, admires your every subtle movement. The real thing is much better than his daydreams. Yes, in the moment, he almost thanked Buddha.

You lean down to kiss him. Rather soft and innocent compared to the way you shift on top of him, and the way your hand runs down between the two of you. He’s rather shameless, and doesn’t bother hiding the way you make him feel. There’s nothing greater than pleasure.

Your movements come to an abrupt stop, and Ran suddenly becomes more aware. For a moment, he thinks you must be teasing him once more — Ran doesn’t beg.

He asks, “You okay?”

You stay quiet, he can’t see your eyes, something is wrong.

“Hey, is there something wrong?” His hand is immediately searching for yours, unknowingly. You pull your hand away before he can reach it. You pull your hands together.

Your voice comes out too quiet. It shakes at the end.

“. . . I’m scared,” you admit.

Ran pauses, his expression drops and he’s quick to sit straight up, reaching over to grab your hand, pulling it into his. His thumb brushes against the back.

He pulls you in his arms, your head lays against his chest as he whispers, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything.” He doesn’t need this. “It’s alright, don’t force yourself.”

“No, that’s not what I—” you’re cut off by a whine; your own cry.

He’s scared to death the moment you begin to sob. Full on sobbing, you’re choking, and he can’t calm you down. He’s frantically trying to speak to you, but his words are not reaching you.

He wants to know what’s wrong. He needs to know what he can do to help you. There’s nothing he can do, except hold you.

“I, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He frowns. Wrong. Your words alarm him. “There’s nothing wrong. It’s not wrong. Trust me.” He tells you, more firm than his usual tone with you. “You’re okay, baby.”

You shake your head. “It’s not.”

“It is.” He grabs the blanket beneath the two of you and wraps it around your naked figure.

You try to say you’re sorry — words don’t come out, but Ran knows you’re trying to apologise for something that only exists in your mind. There’s nothing wrong at all and he needs you to understand this.

“We’re okay, trust me. We’re more than okay.” He reassures as he holds you a little tighter when he feels your shaky form against him. “Don’t force yourself to do anything, yeah?” His voice drops to a comforting whisper, “Just breathe for me. You can do that.”

You cry into his chest for an hour. He says nothing, but strokes your hair and quietly calls your name from time to time.

After a long time, when your sniffles begin to slow and the party outside the door begins to die down, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say, and leave it at that.

(You think Ran doesn’t understand, and you feel bad because you don’t know how to tell him how his sweetness and understanding and patience with you causes you to cry even more. He’s so sweet, it aches, and aches, and aches, but his arms around you bring comfort and security, and then, so do his lips.)

—

Leaves decay, autumn passes, and it’s almost Christmas. Snow fell greatly last night, piles and piles of snow pack up, and Rindō is dragged outside to play. Play as if he is some seven-year-old kid once again.

The three of you are outside their apartment complex, you’re rolling snow to make a snowman next to one that has already been made — probably by the family that lives on the first floor. They have two little kids — one boy and one girl. Rindō remembers bumping into them in a drunken state, and the mother looked at him in disappointment and disgust as she blocked him from her children (obviously, he wasn’t going to do anything, but he can’t exactly blame the woman, either), Rindō scoffed at her and stumbled his way upstairs.

He and Ran aren’t doing anything, just standing on the sidelines, lighting a cigarette, and watching you. When Ran passes him the cigarette, Rindō is quick to take notice of the difference in smell and taste. Since when did he start smoking another brand? Especially something like this. Still, he smokes it with him without complaint.

“So,” Rindō starts off, gaining his brother’s attention. “How are you?”

Ran’s face twists, he stares at his little brother strangely, as if he had grown another head. “Huh?”

Sure, it is a weird question, because no matter how close they seem (are), they don’t talk about feelings or anything like that, even if they are together almost 24/7. But Rindō just wants to know this time, he’s so curious, because something has changed about his brother. It’s noticeable in everything he does.

His eyes flicker from him to you. “You and her. The two of you are together now, or what’s going on?” Rindō is curious. He knows there’s something more going on, he’s no fool, and the way your eyes always seem to find each other basically screams it to his face. “Hasn’t it been a while?”

Ran shrugs, poker face, as always.

Rindō just lets out an ‘Ah’, and that’s that. There’s never much to say between them because they’ll just accept anything about each other without an explanation.

However, Ran continues speaking about it, much to his surprise. “I am actually fine with it, y’know.”

“Fine with what?” he asks.

“How there will always be a little part of her who loves Izana.” Ran says this so casually, Rindō’s mouth opens slightly, yet there’s nothing he can think to say so he shuts it and stares on ahead. “Even if he were still here. . . yeah, I’d be okay with it, too.”

Ran has always been complex in ways that nobody can understand, and when they finally think they do, he shows them that they never knew him at all. When he wants something, he’s quick to dive in and take it. He takes, takes, and takes. He’s quite cruel at times, it’s how he learned to survive.

(And Rindō learned that from him, too.)

If Izana were here, somewhere in another life, he knows you would still choose Ran — that’s probably what his brother is thinking. That cocky, confident smile tells all. And Ran is probably right about it, he always is, and he’s annoying about that fact, too.

Ran’s eyes have always been a shade darker than his. Yet, in this light, they seem to shine brighter than his.

“Ran!”

The both of them look up. You’re running over, there’s snow in your hair, frosting over. Your smile is bright, teeth showing, the snow around is sparkling. Ran’s smile is suddenly all soft.

“What?” Even his voice is all smiles, and internally, Rindō gags.

“Come here,” your hand pulls him along. Ran follows you like a dog.

And suddenly, it’s only the two of you in the world; moving slowly, kicking snow onto each other, pushing, running, hands never letting go. It’s pure, gentle, something so rare and hard to find, Rindō's heart shakes at the sight of Ran and you.

The idea of Ran and you.

He’s a little jealous, but he will never admit to something like that.

He thinks about taking a picture of Ran to show him how idiotic he looks, but in the end, he decides not to. Ran won’t see what he looks like in this light, unless, as cheesy as it sounds, through the reflection of your eyes.

—

January rolls around, the very first day of the year, and Yokohama’s seaside never seems to change. Dawn is blue, forever blue, you feel as if your soul is about to cry.

Ran had shown up at your apartment right before the hand of the clock struck midnight to no one’s surprise. Well, maybe, you were a little surprised. His brother was throwing a New Year’s party (one you had declined the invitation to), yet here Ran is with you. You ask why, to which he replies with, “I just wanted to see you.” And that is enough for you to let him inside.

The two of you attempt to stay up all night — that attempt is quick to fail, because you both become entangled in your bed, falling into slumber. And once your alarm sets off at five in the morning, you’re dragging Ran out of your bed, pulling his clothes off from your bedroom floor, and pushing him out the door. His hand in yours. You take him to your spot by the pier, almost jogging. It’s nearly six.

“Sleepyhead,” you eventually call out, glancing at the sleepy boy beside you. He could sleep anywhere, you think. It’s a fact known to everyone around him. “You are dozing off. You’ll miss the sunrise.”

After a few beats, your words register through his head. He lazily nods, almost as if he’s nodding off again. “If you don’t say anything, I think I really will pass out,” he mumbles back, voice groggy and deeper than usual from his sleepiness.

You ask, “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Mhm. . .”

You ponder for a moment, before asking, “Do you think people ever truly move on from their first love?”

This is enough to wake Ran up. The weight on your head is lifted, he shifts. “That’s heavy,” he breathes out.

“You said anything.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he gives you an answer.

“It depends on the person.” He turns his body to turn and look at you. “Why do you ask? Scared to move on or do you think you’ll never be able to?”

You don’t lift your gaze, settling on the waves below. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You can feel his eyes on you and the smirk that is tugging on his lips, even though you know he is being serious with you. He wants to know. He needs to hear your answer. “I don’t know. . . Do you ever think about your first love?”

“Nah, I don’t think about things like that, sweetheart.”

“Liar. You could at least pretend and go along with me.” He smiles when you say this. You softly sigh, going along with his silence. “But fine. If you did think about those things, do you think you would eventually forget about them?”

Ran’s eyes flicker, violet hues staring deep into you, as he huffs a silent laugh — one that feels a little sad compared to his usual ones. “I think I would carry a part of them with me no matter how much time has passed.”

His words make you softly smile. And they feel a little sad, too. “I see. . . You are quite the romanticist,” you tease.

For some reason, you feel as if your teasing never seems to work against him, he remains as composed as he always is. He whispers, “Aren’t we all?”

It’s strange how easily Ran’s words bring comfort to you. In ways where you feel heard and seen even in darkness. Ran is always like that. There’s a part of you that will never forget Izana, not now or in another life. He will always be someone you love and cherish. Ran understands this — he understands you, never judging. You understand him, too, and that’s all that matters.

“Hey, Ran, can I ask you something?”

“You sure have a lot of questions today,” he says with both amusement and curiosity swimming in his tone. “Shoot. What else is running through that mind of yours?”

You open your mouth, then pause.

“Hm? What’s with the sudden hesitation? Is it something embarrassing?” he teasingly asks, nudging his shoulder against yours, prompting you to speak your mind. “You can tell me. Promise, I won’t laugh.”

You know he wouldn’t laugh at you — always with you. Never at you. You just can’t find the right words to say to him. [Or maybe the courage.]

“You know I don’t judge you.”

“You judge everyone, Ran.”

His smile drops, and his expression turns more serious than you would like. “Surely you know that you’re not everyone.” He asks, “You understand, don’t you?”

You quietly reply, “I know.”

“Then is it something bad?” His voice goes quiet, too.

“No, it’s just,” you deeply inhale, turning your head back to the sea, averting your gaze from those eyes that look at you so softly [tenderly, with his full adoration], it causes your heart to tighten every time. You fidget with the ends of your hair, exposing your nerves. Another short pause and then you breathe. “I think. . . I think I like you, Ran. Like, a lot, and it terrifies me. Maybe you don’t believe me—I would find it hard to believe, too, because of—”

“I believe you,” his reply comes immediately. Voice so clear among the waves and seagulls calling above. “I can tell. You make it quite obvious sometimes, it’s hard for me to ignore, y’know?”

You blink. “Oh. Um, is it really?” you meekly reply.

Ran hums and heat rises up to your ears in embarrassment. You don’t think you’re somebody who is that obvious. Your face no longer feels the coldness of winter brushing by, internally groaning. You guess it was obvious. The two of you kiss a lot, you’ve gone further than that on a few occasions, and he stays over at your apartment more often than not. It is obvious. But liking and loving someone are two completely different things. (Love. . .)

“I feel the same. But how I feel . . . it is probably too soon to say how I feel for you, so I will wait until you are sure you want this.” His hand brushes against yours — cold from the cement and winter air, pinky dragging across the back of your hand. “Not too long, though. My patience isn’t so gentlemanly.”

Your heart flutters, embarrassment shifting to shyness. I feel the same for you, too. You try to not burst out smiling, lightly biting down onto your lip. Your cheeks betray you. You can feel the heat rising against the wind.

“Oh? Is that what people call you now? I don’t recall you being that much of a gentleman.”

Ran scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Really now?” Beginning to mutter to himself about how he treats you so well, that he’s been born a gentleman — it’s engraved into the very depths of his soul. And to some degree, those words are true. Ran has been nothing but patient with you. Someone who is always there when you need it.

I will wait until you are sure you want this. You do want this, you want to be with him — with the person beside you now. You want us. “Me too,” you say as you gather more courage, leaning towards him a little, your hand rests on his shoulder as you stare straight into those pretty lavender eyes. “I am falling in love with you,” you say to him, more sure than before.

You don’t waver.

A second passes, a wave crashes.

“Mm, I missed what you said. Say it again for me, sweetheart,” he says with that signature smile to his soft, pink lips, “for me, please?”

His plea makes you roll your eyes. Ran loves attention — both good and bad. He loves pretty things and pretty words, even more when they hold something so precious and meaningful in them. I love you. I love you. I love you. I like you so, so much. I want to be with you, Ran. Ran, Ran, Ran — sweet words that have been whispered to him many times before in the past (and many more times in the future, including now).

You lean over, cherry lips brushing against his ear, as light as a feather. You whisper a confession. A heartfelt confession. The wind rushes by, his hair tickles your flushed cheek, and a sweet confession only for the two of you to know, drowned out by everything else in the world.

It’s just you and Ran.

Snow gently falls, your hand found itself in Ran’s, his fingers intertwined between yours. He doesn’t let go. You don’t let go. Even when the sun begins to rise over the blue horizon, not when you’re walking back to your apartment, not when Kakuchō and Rindō stop by later for dinner and Ran is doing nothing, but admiring you as you cook. Neither of you let go for a long, long time.

It’s just Ran and you.

#tokyo revengers #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #haitani brothers

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elryuse · 3 months ago

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To celebrate the release of part 1 of your Hierarchy series how about a fic about Yoon He-ra in where the readers family decides to help her out when her family was in debt, but the readers family made a condition in where the Reader and He-ra would be in an arranged marriage

A NEW BEGINNING

YOON HERA X MALE READER

The rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the storm raging within Yoon He-ra's heart. Her family, once a beacon of hope, was now drowning in a sea of debt. The weight of their financial burden pressed down on her shoulders, a heavy, suffocating force.

A flicker of hope ignited when an unexpected offer arrived. The wealthy Kim family, particularly their son, Y/n, had extended a helping hand. Their generosity was overwhelming, but it came with a steep price.

The Kims' ultimatum was clear: an arranged marriage between He-ra and Y/n. It was a cold, calculated move, a strategic alliance to secure their interests. He-ra, a mere pawn in their grand scheme, was forced to accept her fate.

As the wedding day approached, He-ra found herself increasingly isolated. Her friends, once a source of comfort and support, began to distance themselves. The harsh truth was that they were uncomfortable with her newfound status as a future heiress, a position they couldn't relate to.

In the midst of this social upheaval, only one friend remained steadfast: Jae-i. She had always been different, a true friend who saw beyond the superficial. She understood the weight of He-ra's burden, the sacrifices she was making for her family.

"You don't have to do this, He-ra," Jae-i said, her voice filled with concern. "You deserve better."

He-ra, her heart heavy, shook her head. "I-i have no choice, Jaei-ah" she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

As the wedding day approached, He-ra couldn't help but feel a growing sense of dread. She was marrying a stranger, a man she barely knew. What would their life together be like? Would they be able to connect on a deeper level, or would they remain mere acquaintances bound by a contract?

On the day of the wedding, He-ra finally met Y/n. To her surprise, he was nothing like the cold, calculating figure she had imagined. Instead, he was kind, gentle, and surprisingly understanding. He seemed genuinely concerned about her well-being and made a conscious effort to make her feel comfortable.

As they spent more time together, He-ra began to question her initial assumptions. Perhaps this arranged marriage wasn't as terrible as she had feared. Maybe there was hope for a future filled with love and happiness.

As she prepared to start a new life with Y/n, He-ra couldn't help but wonder how their relationship would evolve. Would they be able to overcome the challenges of an arranged marriage and build a genuine connection? Only time would tell.

The night was still young, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the city. He-ra and Y/n sat on a secluded bench in the park, the soft rustling of leaves providing a gentle backdrop to their conversation.

"So, Y/n," He-ra began, her voice barely a whisper, "what do you expect from this marriage?"

Y/n turned to her, his gaze soft and tender. "I simply want to spend my life with you, He-ra," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want to care for you, to protect you, and to love you unconditionally."

He-ra's heart skipped a beat. His words, simple yet profound, touched her in a way she hadn't expected. She had been so caught up in the complexities of their situation that she had forgotten the most important thing: the human connection.

"But... but what about the family expectations?" she stammered, her voice filled with uncertainty. "The pressure, the obligations..."

Y/n took her hand in his, his touch warm and comforting. "We'll face those challenges together," he assured her. "We'll create our own happiness, regardless of what others expect."

He-ra's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. Yet, there was a strange sense of peace that washed over her. Perhaps this arranged marriage wasn't so bad after all.

As they sat there, lost in each other's gaze, a spark ignited between them. It was a spark of hope, a spark of love, a spark that could ignite a beautiful future.

The limousine glided smoothly through the city streets, the soft hum of the engine providing a soothing backdrop to the intimate moment unfolding within. He-ra and Y/n sat side by side, their fingers intertwined.

As they drew closer to Jooshin High, Y/n's hand, bold and confident, slid across the seat and gently rested on He-ra's thigh. A shiver ran through her, a mix of surprise and anticipation. His touch, soft and tender, sent a wave of warmth through her body. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement.

When they arrived at the school, Y/n leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Have a good day, my love," he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

He-ra, her cheeks flushed, nodded silently. As she watched him walk away, she couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging, a sense of security.

At school, He-ra immediately became the center of attention. Whispers and curious glances followed her every move. It was as if she had become a celebrity overnight. Some students were envious, others were simply amazed.

Jae-i, noticing the unwanted attention, approached He-ra. "Don't mind them," she said, her voice firm. "They're just jealous."

He-ra smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Jae-i. You're a lifesaver."

With Jae-i by her side, He-ra was able to navigate the day with relative ease. Together, they faced the curious stares, the snide remarks, and the hushed conversations. And together, they emerged victorious.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, He-ra gathered her belongings and prepared to leave. Just as she was about to step out of the classroom, she felt a familiar presence behind her.

"He-ra," Y/n's voice, soft and gentle, broke the silence. "Would you like to grab a bite to eat with me?"

He-ra's heart skipped a beat. She glanced at him, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. His warm smile and inviting eyes made it impossible to refuse.

"Sure," she stammered, her voice barely audible.

As they walked together, the other students couldn't help but stare. They were an unexpected pair, a match made in an unlikely heaven. But as they watched the way Y/n looked at He-ra, filled with affection and adoration, they began to understand.

Perhaps love, like fate, could surprise even the most cynical of hearts.

- To Be Continued -

#x male reader #beautiful #update #hierarchy drama #hierarchy #kdrama #k drama #yoon hera #ji hyewon #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #fluff stuff

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nohaijiachi · 1 year ago

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I've been seeing just about all moments of GO S2 being put under a microscope and absolutely dissected frame by frame

And still I am yet to see anyone mention a moment that might be small in the grand scheme of things, perhaps not as character defining as many other that have been (rightfully) analyzed a thousand times over, but which was *so* important to me, and every single time I watch it I'm just filled with so many feelings and jhaghagha

(putting this under a read more to not spam y'all with a ginormous post clogging your dashes)

The moment in question is this (my apologies for the pics, I currently don't have a proper way to take screenshots of S2 and had to snap photos of my tv screen lol)

It's such a quick moment, a small blip in the entirety of episode 5, but let me tell you why it absolutely destroys my heart every single time.

First of all let's refresh our memory on Aziraphale's relationship with Heaven and Gabriel specifically, shall we?

The very first time we see Gabriel in S1, he surprises Aziraphale at a sushi restaurant. Aziraphale looks to his left, because that's the side where Crowley usually appears when approaching him, but instead of his boyfriend the familiar Demon, he sees the reflection of Gabriel at his other side, and he turns around with what reads to me as very much an "oh shit" expression.

In episode 2 we see Gabriel again, along with Sandalphon; they are flanking Aziraphale and leaving him no way to escape in what to me seems a blatant intimidation tactic, especially with Gabriel being all "hey you remember Sandalphon, right :)" and Aziraphale being like "Oh yeah, likes smiting and turning people into salt, I sure do! *nervous laugh". There's literally no reason for them to be acting like this if not to (un)subtly remind Aziraphale what his place is, and that he is NOT safe, not even in his bookshop.

Whenever we see Aziraphale in Heaven he is constantly standing ramrod straight, hands kept caged behind him, none of his usual mannerism to be seen. He always smiles like a hare being stared at by a hawk and the cinematography very much underlines that tenseness by both showing the impossible, cold and sterile expanse of Heaven in contrast to the camera being shoved right in the characters' face to make the viewer feel just as uncomfortable as Aziraphale is.

When Gabriel and Aziraphale speak in the park there's this moment after it looks like Gabriel is leaving, but he pops right back up in Aziraphale's space in an instant, causing the reaction we see in these screenshots. Aziraphale is clearly taken aback and tense, eyes widening which is like, fair considering Gabriel pretty much jump scared him, but that's rather the point, isn't it? Gabriel pretty much jump scared him. He didn't just turn around and jog back to Aziraphale to ask him about the sword, he purposefully moved himself up to him without any warning. Like sheesh, talk about terrifying bosses.

No Gabriel here, but just another example of how much Aziraphale does NOT like being in Heaven. When he gets discorporated and finally manages to stand up for himself, saying he refuses to fight a war, he still looks like *this*. Like he's one step away from just discorporating a second time and without an actual body out of sheer anxiety.

When all it's said and done at the Tadfield airbase and the four horsemen are gone, Gabriel and Beelzebub decide to go check what the heck is going on, at which point Aziraphale pretty much seems to be bracing himself, straightening his back, adjusting his clothes nervously and then holding his hand in front of him in a show of dignified quietness I definitely read as him doing his best to hide just how anxious he truly is.

Of course we don't see Aziraphale's reaction at being told to shut his stupid mouth and die already by Gabriel due to the body swap, and at this point is pretty safe to say Crowley has never shared with Aziraphale that little tidbit of information, but even not knowing the extent of the cruelty Gabriel showed toward him at the end, he still knows that Gabriel and, by extension, Heaven was more than willing and ready to murder him.

Even at the start of S2, when an amnesiac Gabriel arrives at the bookshop and then hugs him (awkwaaaard), Aziraphale looks like he's entirely frozen and unable to react to the improbability of what is happening, and when Gabriel asks him if he can go inside the bookshop Aziraphale's immediate reaction is to pretty much recoil with an immediate "No!".

Of course he is then forced to let him in because there's a naked man on his steps while the whole neighborhood is watching, and we get some many more little moments of Aziraphale anxiety emerging through his body language: The pacing, the way he sits ramrod straight in front of Gabriel, and him literally backing away multiple steps when Gabriel asks him "You know how it's like, when you don't know anything at all, and yet you're totally certain that everything will be better if you were just near one particular person?"

(Because of course Aziraphale knows how that feels, and that's exactly the same reason why he's been so scared of Heaven for-fucking-ever!) (Also as an aside let me just bless Michael 'Acting Choices' Sheen for that smile that lasts a shard of a second after Gabriel asks that. You can pretty much see the word "CROWLEY" stamped in big bold letters on his forehead in that moment lmao)

(Also as an aside to the aside. Jon Hamm is just fantastic. Gabriel comes across as such an asshole in S1, but Amnesiac!Gabriel is a fucking cinnamon roll and he pulls it off so well ajahjahja)

Then of course we get the whole exchange about the 'something terrible' that sends Aziraphale into more anxious frenzy until another tiny, kinda overlooked moment hits us in the shins, in which Gabriel says "You're funny. I love you." And like, can't blame anybody for not looking at that moment without much thought, I know that that sentence had me crying laughing multiple times on multiple rewatches, but also... God, you can see the way some of that fear instantly leaves Aziraphale, the way he relaxes ever so slightly and ??? Aziraphale??? Is that all you need to instantly start trusting someone who wanted you dead? Who treated you like shit for who knows how long? (Why am I even asking this, of course that'd be enough, it's Aziraphale we're talking about, here.) Then of course the rest of season 2, he and Crowley having a row about what to do with Gabriel with Aziraphale insisting that he needs them, as his friends, yada yada, we get back to the initial moment that sparked this post.

We get there, Aziraphale's (eldritch) Ball and the romantic moment he's been working himself up for ruined, murderous Demons at his steps putting both he and all the humans inside in peril, and all he would need to do to avoid any harm coming to them is to give Gabriel up, and... "You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will." Not just the words, but the way Aziraphale says them; voice lowered and serious, that hint of hesitation and fear at the start that melts away into full blown confidence at the 'And I will'.

It isn't just Aziraphale being scared by Gabriel mentioning the 'something terrible' at the beginning, nor the brief moments of cryptic recollection that he witnesses Gabriel going through-- It's that Aziraphale sincerely accepted to protect him, and he wasn't going to give that up. He is a Guardian and a Principality, after all.

And like, I see this and how am I supposed not to get my heart utterly shattered by it? If Aziraphale had rejected Gabriel, or treated him unkindly in any way, I hardly doubt anybody would be hard pressed to say Aziraphale did not have the right to do so, not after the way he's been treated by Gabriel and Heaven his whole life. But he doesn't. He is kind to him, if a tad long-suffering at times. The protection he extended over Gabriel is utterly sincere and unwavering.

And ngggggggh I don't even know where I'm going with this. I just. Love Aziraphale so much. Stupid, clever, anxious, brave man-shaped thing that he is, recklessly throwing himself into the line of fire for somebody that, by any means, did not have any right to ask something of that magnitude from him. He is my scrungly, and by God am I ever so excited to see how everything will play out in season 3. I want him to fully grasp that bravery and raise absolute -metaphorical- hell with it. Shine bright, you crazy bastard.

#good omens #aziraphale #meta #i suppose #idk i just wanted to throw my two cents and talk about this specific moment #cuz it gives me ALL of the feels #my angel blorbo ilu

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taggedmemes · 1 year ago

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SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART SIX

leave us in peace and we shall leave you in kind.

cut the crap.

we just want to go home.

enough of this charade.

i'll not play pretend anymore.

you'll soon learn what it means to ally yourself with the likes of this garbage.

i'm free now, and i'm never going back.

fuck them.

felt good letting off a little steam.

if i burn any hotter, i might explode.

don't get too close until i've found a way to calm down.

it's a bit early to be getting into tragic backstories.

let's save the scar-show for later after we've worked up an appetite for tragedy.

in the grand scheme of things, i'm inconsequential [to her].

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

it had the makings of a good stage show, but i did not want to be one of the players.

torture, bloodsport? or perhaps just a good old-fashioned walloping?

you owe me nothing.

i could extort you, if that's what you want.

you're teasing me now.

ignorance is alive and well it seems.

don't make me get the wooden spoon.

you'd best have one hells of an apology for me.

if you think your precious little god holds any power here, you're in for a surprise.

do you treat all your guests so poorly?

i don't like busybodies.

you are as thick as they come.

are you telling me you made love to a goddess?

i shared a bed with a goddess and yet i wasn't satisfied.

shall i share the story behind it or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale?

how are you still alive?

we've come this far together and we'll continue on together.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i'll rip your spine out of your asshole.

i'll use your blood to spice my stew.

i'll keep you alive until i've sucked the marrow from your bones.

killing me is a waste of time.

you bastard, you ruined everything.

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

a slap is all you deserve.

a hag was never going to help you.

they don't help anyone but themselves.

that double-crossing, filthy, lying hag.

focus on the positive.

forgive the aroma.

perhaps that is why i have survived so long where more fearsome peers have not.

your loyalty is admirable but misplaced.

his kind have charm beyond our mortal means to resist.

who'd keep a secret like that from his friends?

you can't trust anyone these days.

even in the middle of nowhere, he can reach me.

why do you insist on exhuming the past?

people think the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake.

they're scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts.

i am what i must be, says what i must be.

how does it feel to be a devil?

i can't tell if you're being silly or serious.

you have to admire the man's ambition.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

you kept me by your side despite the menace i am.

i learned quick how to stay alive.

to feel invincible again.

this isn't where i thought i'd end up.

maybe when this is all done, you can show me where you came from.

i'm not normally one to begrudge someone their secrets, but..

i'm already blessed to have you at my side.

don't you cut a fine figure.

i am not some lower city coinlad offering you a tumble.

there is nothing so depressing as learning one's true value.

i could use someone with your skills.

they're ravenous predators with fangs like daggers.

it's hardly an irrational fear to harbor.

you've been decent to me, so far.

everyone's got their own fears.

maybe that's what i like about you.

all of this was for nothing.

if you're here to help, get to the fight quickly.

gods, i thought you were one of those beasts.

i'm not chasing after it, if that's what you're thinking.

the little beast's charming once you get accustomed to the smell of rotting flesh.

#sentence meme #rp meme #sentence starters #roleplay meme #starter sentences #rp starters #rpc #starter meme #sentence prompts #sentence prompt #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #writing prompt #bg3 meme

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vigilskeep · 5 months ago

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sorry for rambling in your inbox but having recently finished a cassandra romance, your post abt people not, like, analyzing her got to me. i know you have arthur who romances(divorces) her and makes her divine but i don't know if you've fully played that out, actually seeing it in-game made me feel rabid. it's kind of an insane thing to do to her... cassandra is the divine candidate who /wants/ the position the least. leliana actively puts herself forward as a candidate, vivienne would never be so gauche as to be direct but she clearly is interested in the position. for cassandra it is a duty she must accept, bordering on a burden (particularly if she can never marry an inquisitor she loves as a result). she became the right hand of the divine as a teenager!!! she loathes the trappings of her name and nobility but she's been trapped by duty instead her whole life. free my girl she did all that but i understand her

it makes me feel insane.

i haven’t played it through no. and i don’t even consider myself to know cassandra particularly well (this is true of a lot of inquisition companions, having never finished the game fully with dlcs and thus never felt completely comfortable watching through banter compilations and alternate endings and low approval scenes and so on.) but from everything i do know about cassandra, the very fundamentals, making her divine feels so... cruel? it’s terrible for literally everybody involved except possibly the snakes in the grand cathedral who are going to eat her alive.

cassandra is a woman of action and passion, brash and violent, a blunt weapon, forthright in both her accusations and her affection. the life of a divine is everything she hates; she might as well be the noblewoman in a gilded cage she was raised to be (in a childhood that poisoned her entire extended family and nation for her), or perhaps an honoured corpse preserved lifeless and useless in the grand necropolis (the ones a young cassandra thought looked so “very sad” in the midst of all their buried, wasted finery.)

i was struck during dawn of the seeker by what an obvious publicity stunt it was to make her the divine’s right hand after her success against the conspiracy. a duty she had to accept, was even publicly surprised into accepting. at her age, would she ever have been put so forward in the seekers to be engaged in fighting such a conspiracy, if not for her name? she would not even have been allowed to join the seekers when she did if not for that. she has no skills of good judgement or leadership and it’s only due to the accident of her birth that these pressures she isn’t equipped to match are constantly placed on her shoulders.

she already wanted to leave after beatrix died, but justinia convinced her otherwise, for a failed vision that ended in death cassandra blames herself for. i find it harder and harder to blame her for dodging the inquisitor’s position, considering all that. and to make her divine... she won’t be good at it, she’ll fall into every politician’s scheme and old orthodox pattern even as she tries for ‘reform’ that she has no clarity of purpose for, she’ll be trapped there for the rest of a long grey life with none of the passion she longs for. she won’t be good at it!!! nobody in thedas benefits either! it’s worse! what the hell

(it’s kind of why i love my arthur and this ending the way i do, because of the equivalency. she does terrible things to him, reinstating the circles while he stands alone as her archmage. but he also did a terrible thing to her, by putting her in this position! by ruining her life and also lying all this time to someone he supposedly loves! neither justifiable or comparable, love loses, nobody wins, they are drowning there is no sign of land etc etc)

#cassandra pentaghast

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sky-kiss · 1 year ago

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Can't Have Mornings without a Sun

A/n: @molinaesque asked for some soft!Raph/Tav, and I'm cold so like. I dunno. Here's whatever this is.

R/T: This is fine in the winter. It won't fly in the summer, devil boy.

Did a devil dream?

Tav thinks she read something about it once, years prior. A lifetime ago. The words are lost, but the sentiment remains. They didn't. Devils didn't dream, sleep, or eat; they were beyond or divorced from humanity.

Raphael dreams.

She frowns, pushing up on her elbow to observe him. His nudity is somehow the most negligible intimate factor in the equation; it's his wild hair, the little huffs of breath bordering on a snore, and the way his mouth falls open ever so slightly in sleep. It's humanizing in a way Tav knows he'd despise. She reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. The cambion grumbles, turning his face into her pillow. He doesn't stir.

That surprised her; Tav had expected him to sleep lightly.

She's afforded some time to think here in the early morning hours. The sunlight cuts through the bedroom window in jagged diagonals, only just falling over the bed. It'll be a half hour at least before it reaches her, and the light seems content to linger across her lover's nude form, bisecting his thighs and abdomen. She drags her nails across this dividing line, chuckling when Rapahel shifts. He grumbles something, shuffling nearer. It's a difficult task. In sleep, he's tactile. Her head remains pillowed on his arm (it must be numb by now), one of his legs hooked over her hip. In the grand scheme of things, she supposes it's possessive or instinctual. Technicalities that she'll argue at a later date. For now, all that matters is she's warm; he's here.

And that's odd, too. In all Tav's imaginings, Raphael took his leave immediately after their first coupling. He would kiss her hand, thank her for her service (perhaps with a wink), and leave her cold. And yet.

She frowns, stroking his cheek. And yet, there's a dreaming devil in her bed. He's more mortal than he'd like to admit. Ageless, and yet there are crows feet near the corners of his eyes and laugh lines around his mouth. There's gray in his hair and dark bags from one too many sleepless nights. There are scars on his chest and ribs, and she wonders, not for the first time, what his life was like before they met. He's lived so long…thirty of her lives? Fifty? It's so much space to cover, so much weight.

He is an odd thing. Tav struggles to quantify him, let alone understand. Her fingers tease back into his hair, nails scraping across his scalp. Touching him helps; it makes him feel…real. She's not deluded enough to call him soft, only handsome. So achingly handsome.

"You're thinking," Raphael grumbles. He opens his eyes just long enough to glare, though the haziness robs the expression of its strength. "Loudly. A dangerous occurrence in your best moment, let alone before sunrise."

Tav snickers. "Funny, I'd have expected you to be more of a morning person."

"There are no mornings in Hell, pet."

His tone remains petulant. Raphael reaches out for her shoulder. He shoves. It's enough to set her off balance; years of experience tell her to throw her weight into the motion instead of fighting it. Either way, she finds herself on her back, staring up at the ceiling first and Raphael shorting after. He presses up on his arms, settling himself between her legs before letting himself drop. Tav grunts as his weight drives the air from her lungs.

"You deserved that," he says by way of apology, nosing into her throat.

"Raphael?"

"Sleep, little mouse. Or I will find a more suitable pillow."

Tav rolls her eyes, ducking her head to kiss the crown of his skull.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #my writing #did you want cavities?#because this is how you get cavities?

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shini--chan · 4 days ago

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The second part of the ask of @thatanimeramenchick , Enjoy milady

Yandere Lelouch vi Britania - Character Sheet I

Trigger warnings: emotional abuse, guilt tripping, imprisoning, physical abuse, victim blaming, manipulation, implied stalking

Attributes - What sort of Yandere is he/she?

As a yandere, he would be extraordinarily persistent. Even if he would have to wait years to see his plans come to fruition, he would cease his pursuit. Maybe he wouldn't have the power or the resources to properly court you or perhaps there would be other things keeping him occupied. Nevertheless, he would never forget you or the “love” he would hold in his heart for you. His thoughts would always dwell on you to a degree, no matter the time and distance, he would still loyally yearn for you and plot to entrap you.

Likewise, he wouldn't let any attempts of yours to dissuade him from entering a relationship with you or any monologues on morality scare him away. The picture of a happy life with you would be crystal clear to him and he would strive to attain it no matter the cost. If he would have to set the world on fire to be by your side, then so be it. Also, he would try to combine his more political goals with obtaining you. Two birds with one stone, as they say.

Another one of his traits would be his possessiveness towards you. You would be the apple of his eye, and also lack the agency he'd pride himself in. To him, you would be a morality pet, something to keep him grounded. At the same time, you would also be the princess in the tower - not a person that acts, but reacts at most. Your words would be frequently disregarded, because they simply wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things. In the end you would be a source of enrichment and entertainment, you would need him in every way. On the other hand, Lelouch could survive very well without you, besides your death causing him to lose it and burn down the whole world.

With you, he would be surprisingly playful. His usual apathy and the way he'd treat others in his school boy persona wouldn't make the transition all too noticeable. His image and role as Zero would stand in sharp contrast to this playfulness, yet would still be executed in a way that wouldn't seem alien to his role. Before he'd lock you away from the rest of the world, his teasing and suave attitude would lead other people to rib you about it and push you into Lelouch’s arms. There would be a lot of external pressure on you to enter a relationship with him, and he would count on this.

His aforementioned possessiveness would entwine with his protective tendencies to a horrid cocktail. You would become his motivation to usurp the world and warp it into what he would deem safe for you. Here, he would know what is best for you and he wouldn't tolerate your interference. Until then, he would just have to form your surroundings so that you wouldn't be crushed beneath the wheels of history, and that other people wouldn't exploit you to get at him. If it must be, then he would crush your dreams underfoot and lock you in a gilded cage.

Standing in juxtaposition to the traits listed so far, would be the surprising amount of coldness he would display towards you. Kisses and hugs would be rare and there would be a surprising amount of emotional distance that he would maintain. This would be to prevent you from hurting him with any noncompliance or also rejection. And to throw off enemies. Deep down, this would also be a measure implemented to keep himself from losing control. You would mean the world to him, and that would be a weakness nobody would be allowed to know.

Cornering - How would they get you?

Lelouch would make sure to approach you in an environment and setting where you are not enemies. To be noted is that he wouldn't shy away from creating a completely new identity and appearance in order to safely enter your social circle, if he would deem it necessary. If he would be a friendly face to you, then you would be less likely to notice the chains tightening. Besides, it would mean he could rely on human nature in the form of other people's meddling to push you closer. He would charm your friends and family and compatriots to encourage you to interact with you more, to paint him in a good light so that he would be more attractive to you.

Or, he would or would also manipulate other external factors to push you closer to him. The important factor here would be that he'd do his utmost best to make it look like he had no influence or involvement over the ensuing incidents. People would spontaneously ditch you and he would just happen to be close by, his interests would coincidently overlap with yours and superiors/people of authority would just happen to assign you to work together. It would be painted as fate and he would try to convince you of such. It would be a romantic notion that would suit his roles of revolutionary and prince.

Once he would have you secured, he would either slowly chip away at your social circle until you would only have him left. Perhaps he would even take further steps to disrupt your dreams, like having you injured or freezing your bank account/funds. It would be steps to make you dependent on him, and also emotionally vulnerable. Show weakness, and he'd worm his way through the cracks and infest the wound.

Expectations - What do they expect of you?

He would treasure a sense of fragility in you, and try to nurture it. To him, you would be akin to a porcelain and just as pretty and precious. In ways, you would have your own elegance and nobility to you, something that would have to be protected from the cruel, cruel world that the both of you would inhabit. Like a figurine in a music box, you would have to be kept away from prying eyes and admired in privacy and security. Ideally, you would be reserved for his eyes only - a treasure that only he would really appreciate and know how to take care of you. Such a delicate thing like you would have kept in a strictly controlled environment, lest you wilt. And that would be exactly what he would do.

Lelouch would love it if you would be eloquent and had a way with words. It would allow him to have long conversations with you deep into the night and until the wee morning hours. Being able to articulate yourself well is an art in and of itself and it would just add to your beauty in his eyes. Therefore, he would also use you as a proofreader for his speeches and constantly inquire about your opinion. In a way, he might even have you convinced that he would only have kidnapped you in order to conduct his propaganda machine. Generally, I see him as being very much drawn to a person with artistic leanings.

Now for something more tricky - he would either wish for somebody feisty, or for somebody demure. The people in between wouldn’t really reel him in. On one hand, a person with spirit would be enchanting. Having somebody to but heads with, to be able to test his mettle and endurance against a person that would be just as uninclined to back down as he is. A lass or a lad that could match him blow by blow would stroke a fire in him. On the other, having a demure spouse that would match the description of a proper spouse would also be very fairytale-esque. He would have his very own personal happy ending that he could look forward to. You would present the chance to switch off at the end of the day and indulge in a lifestyle that is more at home in myths than in reality.

Something that would also be attractive to him would be if you would be the analytical sort of person. Going hand in hand with that trait would be a tendency to overthink, a weakness that he would exploit to its fullest. He would have you tripping over your own trains of thought and thinking yourself into knots. Somebody that can at least hold a candle to his flame would catch his eye, and he would inspect you thoroughly. Lelouch would revel in playing mind games with you - he would take it to the point that it would very much be psychological torture.

Faded - Would they let go of you in any way?

Not really - he'd burn the world to cinders before letting you go. Your death would destroy something in him, and thus he would lose interest in saving the world or leading humanity to a more prosperous future. Indeed, he might just as well seek to punish the world for taking you away from him. On the other hand, if you were to be kidnapped or severely injured or somebody put out of his reach, then his actions would be driven by a frightful desperation. There would be a sense of urgency in his actions and he would be far more prone to lashing out. When he'd have you in his arms again, he'd melt like butter in the sun. Privately of course.

So, one of the few ways he would be able to “let go of you”, would be if he would suffer from amnesia and completely forget about you. There would still be the persistent feeling of something missing, yet he wouldn't be chasing after you or razing the world so it would still be better than him pining after you. Of course, if he would regain his memories or also find out the truth, there would be hell to pay.

Another option would be if he'd have a replacement goldfish of you in the form of a clone or digital copy. It goes without saying that it wouldn't really compare to the real deal, but he would accept it as compensation. Another option would be you having a Geass that would allow you to live past the demise of your mortal flesh. He would be frustrated, yet it would lead him to declaring war on humanity as a whole.

Punishment - How would they proceed if you do something they disapprove of?

Many of the things he'd do that you'd categorised as punishment would be protective measures in his mind. If you were a bird, then he would clip your wings. Likewise, if you would prove to be particularly difficult, then he would injure you. That way, you would be vulnerable and dependent on him. Chances are that he would manage to create a trauma bond. With most of your energy invested in healing, you wouldn’t really have time to contemplate escaping. Besides, the pain and the feebleness would make you more compliant and your sick state would make him more inclined to dote on you.

Aside from that, he might force you to wear uncomfortable shoes or even bind your feet. This way, you wouldn’t really be able to run away even if you would be inclined to. Your helplessness would make him softer towards you and he might decide to give you one or the other treat as compensation. Something about your helplessness would trigger the more protective side of him, regardless if he would be the cause of your suffering.

What would really be labelled as punishment, would be spreading rumours about you. If you decide to make his life difficult, then he would reciprocate the gesture with interest attached to it. The nice side effect here would be that he would see your wits in action, and also have the chance to chip away at your social circle. If he would have already passed the point of no return (kidnapping you and treating you like a princess in an ivory tower) then he would remove treasured possession or also the means to exercise the meagre hobbies that he would allow you. Should you ask, then he would either gaslight you until you either question your own grip on reality or give in and apologise. Or he would spell it all out so that you understand exactly what happened and why and that you would hold any misconceptions about the situation. After all, you would have to learn the rules of the game somehow.

Misbehaviour would also be blamed on your friends and loved ones and former lords. As such, he would punish them to punish you. In the most extreme cases, you would unpack another gift from him to only find a head in the box. This would also be one of his cruellest methodes, one that would be designed to give you a mighty shock and grant you a few sleepless nights. Or, he would show you photos and videos and other media to show you ruining their lives. Could you handle blood being spilled because of your disobedience?

Reaction - How would they react to you escaping?

Interestingly enough, he would be the sort to panic. In his eyes, you would be a fragile doll and running away would only lead to your demise or wounding. Lelouch would storm around the quarters he would keep you in and interrogate anybody that could have an inkling of your whereabouts. During this frantic search he would pray to whatever higher power there may be that the worst had not really come to pass.

Naturally, he wouldn't be able to show his anxiety in some situations nor would he be able to question just about anyone. Nevertheless, he would be far less controlled and careful and it would bleed through whatever facade he would throw up.

He would invent some mission for the Black Knights or the military that would include retrieving you. As mentioned before, he would be waspish the entire time and his patience would constantly be worn thin. The yandere here would also switch to severe micromanaging, and his comrades in arms would put effort in getting you back just so that the status quo could return.

If it would be a more domestic matter, he would conspire with Collin to get you back - the latter would do so for the gossip and to return Lelouch to a more bearable state.

Turnabout - Scenario: You have the upper hand? What would be different from their usual MO?

Flipping the tables would leave Lelouch feeling very queasy. He would be well versed enough in actual politics and such to know that the more powerful person in a relationship wouldn't be omnipotent or omnipresent. As such, he would still have freedoms he could utilise and stunts he could pull. He might garner himself a powerful patron and then play them out against you, or oppose you by threatening to involve them. However, he would never be able to bear being under somebody else's thumb. He would make himself indispensable to you in one way or another so that you would need him. Once his position would be established, he would weedle concession after concession out of you.

Should it devolve into a situation where you would have the upper hand due to him being injured, sick or bereaved, then he would pull at your heartstrings and your personal integrity to make you docile. He would be awfully chatty and demanding during this time, all in order to occupy your time and keep you from realising that you could simply walk away.

If he would end up as a prisoner at your mercy, then he would strive to be high maintenance if only to enjoy more of your attention that you would willingly give him. He wouldn't like you having the upper hand due to the increased likelihood of betrayal and because he would see himself as having a better overview and plan of your life than you do.

Vengeance - What would they do in the face of competition?

Ruin lives, dish out military defeats, dial up the propaganda - the usual in most cases. If he can, he might simply have his opponent slaughtered in military combat. In the case of the opposition being particularly tenacious, then he would take matters in his own hands and fight them personally.

Otherwise, he would use his Geass to make them commit social suicide. Let them see how their chances are with you after they have humiliated themselves in front of you. Given the strength of his powers, he could also make them commit suicide. Perhaps he would kill two birds with one stone and make them kick the bucket in a way that will further his other ambitions.

All that aside, there would also be the good o'l manipulation where he'd drip poison into your ears to make you cut off contact with the people in his way. Or he could do it the other way around: he could convince his rivals to give you a large berth.

#yandere code geass #yandere lelouch vi britania #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere #yandere character sheet

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chadfallout76podcast · 6 months ago

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what made you put nora x danse together in death shroud? i was surprised considering nora x hancock shippers seem to be the loudest/most popular ship in the fandom!

That's a great question with a complex answer. Sometimes writers write from instinct without a lot of thought in the moment. At least for me anyway, it's very stream of consciousness and I let the great whatever kind of guide me, in the moment not really thinking too much...just mentally playing out scenes in my head, letting the characters interact and then I transcribe what's in my head to the page. I had to think about your answer and why I put them together.

I know people LOVE a Nora/Hancock ship, but I looked at it through the lens of grief and loss. When you lose the love of your life, a part of you dies with them. Imagine a perfect morning, your husband, your child shattered in just minutes. MINUTES. In minutes everything you've ever known is gone. Then seemingly minutes later you watch them killed. An empty death. A pointless death, seemingly without reason or justification. And then, boom...you are thrust out into a harsh, unforgiving, broken world mirroring the shattered part of your soul. People bend, but they rarely break and even when they do, the road you take may grow dark, but at the end of it even in the deepest part of you, the heart YEARNS for what it lost. Nate went to war because he felt a deep sense of duty to his country and to his family, however misplaced this may be in the grand schemes of suits, politicians and madmen. Soldiers always pay the price for their kindness, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice and represent the last true measure of devotion and faith in an idea. I think Nora would've loved that about him.

Danse, while completely different, is a blurry shadow of Nate. The dedicated soldier, whose ideals and life were built around the idea of what the Brotherhood should be (perhaps not what it was under Maxson). I would argue that many of Danse's actions fly in the face of how Maxson would do things, and yet he clearly skated reprimand as the ends always were satisfactory. There is a nobility in that fact, as Danse isn't motivated by power, making many of his decision altruistic to a degree. His arc however SIMILARLY to Nora leads to a cataclysmic loss of everything he's ever known. His entire identity, his "family", his entire life shattered in minutes. Danse is a widower to the person he was, Paladin Danse DIED that day. Danse is who survived.

Sometimes soulful love is born from a shared journey in healing. For Nora, Danse is a reminder of the man she lost...never, ever to be replaced or forgotten but honored. There is so, so much of who Danse is that is a shadowed remind of what she fell in love with in Nate, enough to be comfortably familiar while also different. For Danse, Nora is the suture of a wound as deep as the soul, not born into, but made...not created by Man with 1's and 0's, but through choices and actions that represent the truth of sentience. They very much needed each other. Healing journeys can create friction. People are complex. Guilt, doubt, regret, fear of being wounded again all can push people away from each other. And yet, in due course, the heart wants what the heart wants. Nora and Danse found their way back to each other, and for me, would've remained following the events of Death Shroud.

Although for more on what happens next...you'll need to wait a little bit. ;)

#death shroud #chad: a fallout 76 podcast #chad: a fallout 76 story #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic

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vinyls-and-valentines · 9 months ago

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The most noticeable thing that changes about the Fabulous Killjoys is the way they fight.

Fun Ghoul, although blessed with a knack for chemistry and mechanics, has unsteady hands. While this does not impede his work with electronics and explosives, it makes him a slower shot than most due to a shaky aim worsened by recoil. Because of this, in his early days in the Zones, Fun Ghoul relied primarily on incendiary devices and his own physical abilities to dispose of opponents in an area all at once. The downside of having a combat style based around such tactics however, is that it meshes poorly with the mid-to-close-range the Fabulous Killjoys have developed over the years (in no small part due to Kobra Kid), and thus led Fun Ghoul towards a style focused more on dodging hits and making decisive point blank shots or further sacrificing accuracy for the sake covering a wider area.

Jet Star, is the opposite of Fun Ghoul, in the sense that he has exceedingly steady aim born out of years of practice and a greater-than-life sense of competition, but can struggle to move effectively due to his size. As such, it perhaps comes to no surprise that Jet Star used to prefer long-range fighting, neglecting close-range in favour of playing up the fear factor of both his skill and affiliation with some of the Zones' most infamous snipers and gunslingers. That doesn't mean that he was useless in a close-range fight, of course, however his movements were simple, predictable, and incredibly limited, which put him at a disadvantage against anyone with more experience or endurance than him. Jet Star's current style hasn't as much shifted in order to accommodate the others' as it evolved alongside Jet Star as he learnt to direct his body as deliberately as his shots even when it comes to close quarters.

Party Poison has always been a flexible fighter, and it is this very adaptability which highlights just how purposeful their attacks truly are. In the grand scheme of things, nothing fundamentally changes about Party Poison's fighting style outside some improvements in their aim and the variety of their movement as they learn to fight alongside other people, however, the intent with which they fight does. As a young killjoy, whether consciously or not, Party Poison's intent in a fight was to always harm the oponent, prioritizing ways in which they could incapacitate them without having them lose consciousness or simply inflicting as painful an injury as possible to attain their goal. This intent then gradually shifts towards a desire to protect others from the cruelty Poison's own fighting style reflected back at the world because despite the cruelty of their actions they had never done it because they enjoyed it.

As candidate to become an exterminator, Kobra Kid's fighting style used to something akin a swiss knife, however much more calculated and deliberate. While trying to figure out its way through the Zones, Kobra Kid relied on any weapon available to it, going through a wide variety of combat and more often than not pushing aside his distaste for blasters in favour of having a weapon which was effective and easy to replace. Having Jet Star, Fun Ghoul, and even its sibling by its side, allowed Kobra Kid to focus on its unarmed combat and blade-wielding, casting long-range combat aside in favour of a style which gave it better control over the situation, enabling it not only to easily dispose of opposing combatants due to its athleticism, but to also support its crewmates in situations where long-range combat is the favourable approach

#this is probably only like 85% accurate to my interpretation of how they actually fight however i am tired and this has been rattling around #in my head for a whole month so here you go #danger days #fun ghoul #jet star #party poison #kobra kid #headcanons #chracter headcanons #killjoys #ttlotfk

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kikyoupdates · 9 days ago

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Leave Your Mark ⭑˚🧪⭑ 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last. No matter what it takes, you are going to leave your mark.

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“Just a little more... almost got it...”

You grit your teeth, mustering up all of the strength in your body, alongside your two braincells. It’s easier said than done, and with the face you’re making, someone might make the mistake of assuming you’re constipated.

You are, in fact, not constipated. Rather, you are once again training your Quirk in an attempt to get used to it. There’s probably a lot more to your Quirk that you have yet to discover, but for the time being, you’re trying to improve the telekinetic aspect that comes with it. You’re required to concentrate at great length just to successfully direct the star fragments in the direction you want them to go. Then, if you want to be able to actually pick up an object, you need to invest a whole lot of extra effort.

Granted, you are only five years old, so you try not to beat yourself up too much for struggling, but having seen how much of a prodigy Chisaki is when it comes to using his Quirk... you can’t help but worry that you might not be anywhere near as talented.

But what’s the point in giving up so early on? You’re still just a kid. It took Izuku an extra decade to get his Quirk like everyone else, and he didn’t let that stop him. Sure, he’s the protagonist of the story, and that comes with its fair share of plot armor, but you still consider him an inspiration of sorts.

After all, in this world, he is no longer simply a character. He’s a real person. Just like you.

If Izuku can become a hero, there’s no reason you can’t do the same.

That’s why, even though you can feel a painful headache coming on, you remain undeterred and keep manipulating the star fragments until, slowly but surely, you are able to use them to pull a book all the way towards your body.

With a weary gasp, you cancel your Quirk, and the book falls into your hands.

“I did it,” you mumble weakly. “That was... rough. I didn’t realize it having a superpower would be so difficult to get used to....”

Perhaps in the grand scheme of things, using your Quirk to grab a book from afar isn’t all that impressive, but you’re still proud of yourself for sticking it out until the end, and you’re certain that eventually, you will get stronger. All you have to do is not give up.

In this new life that you’ve been so generously granted, you refuse to ever give up.

While you wipe the sweat off your brow and massage your temples, which have begun to ache quite tremendously, someone steps into the room.

It’s Chisaki, and surprise, surprise—he’s judging you.

“Why do you even bother doing this?” he frowns. “If your Quirk is difficult to use and it causes you discomfort, then there’s no point. It’s not like you’ll need it anyways. Didn’t I already tell you before? Humans survived for countless generations without superhuman abilities. They are fundamentally unnecessary. Your life will be just fine even without using a power like that.”

You part your lips to speak, but before you form the words, you reel to a halt.

As of now, Chisaki doesn’t know that you plan on becoming a hero. Not even Pops knows, for that matter. You’ve kept it to yourself, because something tells you that disclosing your aspirations for the future probably won’t go over that well in a yakuza household.

You will tell them, though. At some point. Ideally, right before you take the U.A entrance exam. And perhaps they won’t take too kindly to the news, but they’re your family, and you know they love you, so you suppose you’ll just cross that bridge when you get there.

But for the time being, partial honesty seems to be the way to go.

“It’s fun,” you shrug. “I just like practicing. It makes me feel like I’m getting stronger. Challenging yourself is good, right? It helps build discipline.”

Chisaki scowls. You’ve seen him scowl probably several hundred times by now, but boy, it always manages to make you feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“You don’t need a Quirk,” he insists. “This is just a massive waste of time. You won’t need to be strong, because I’ll always be here to protect you. Nothing will ever happen to you. Pops and I will both make sure of that.”

Aw. Well, it is nice to know that he plans on taking care of you, but again, you’re not training your Quirk for the reasons he believes. Being able to protect yourself is great, but you’re doing all of this so that you can protect other people. And even though Chisaki is already plenty strong, and he’s only going to become stronger...

Perhaps one day, you’ll be able to return the favor and protect him as well.

“It’s just fun,” you say again, sticking to your story. “Don’t worry, Kai. I’m not going to push myself too hard. I make sure to take plenty of breaks when I start getting tired. And I know that you’ll always be here to protect me, so I’m not worried. This is just a way of setting a goal for myself and seeing what I can accomplish.”

Chisaki looks like he’s ready to keep arguing with you, but before he manages to say anything else, you hear Pops’ voice coming from the hallway.

“Chisaki! [Name]! Come here, please. There’s someone I’d like for the two of you to meet.”

You’re thankful for the interruption, and before Chisaki can shoot you yet another judgy glare, you’ve already booked it out of the room.

Once you get to Pops, however, your entire body goes absurdly still.

“Hello,” a woman greets. She makes an attempt to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her bright, ruby-red eyes. Whether or not her expression is genuine is beside the point, though. You’re far more focused on something else.

Red eyes and wavy, silver hair. There’s no mistaking it.

This woman is Eri’s mom.

“The little angel is [Name], and that one over there with the furrowed brows is Chisaki,” Pops introduces, stifling a quick chuckle. “Kids, I’ve mentioned my daughter a few times before, haven’t I? She moved out several years ago and has been living with her partner since, but today she finally decided to stop by for a visit. I wanted to make sure you became acquainted with one another.”

You stare up at the woman incredulously. Of course, you always figured you would meet her at some point, but every time you come face to face with yet another relevant character from the series, you can’t help but be shocked. Actually, perhaps shock isn’t the right term to use. This is another emotion entirely. Something heavy and forceful, like a weight pressing down on your shoulders.

It’s the realization that your actions could be the difference between a little girl’s suffering, or her freedom.

“Hi,” you respond meekly. The nerves are starting to get to you, even though you know you still have several years before Eri is even born.

“Oh? She’s a bit shyer than normal,” Pops remarks. He reaches down and gently ruffles your hair. “It’s alright, [Name]. She’s your family too. I know this meeting is long overdue, but isn’t it nice to know that you also have an older sister?”

Eri’s mom scrunches up her nose in distaste. Well, great. You now have two judgmental older siblings.

“Don’t confuse the poor girl,” she sighs. “It’s not like she’s going to see much of me anyways. I only came by because you kept pestering me about it.”

Pops frowns. “Don’t say that. They both seem a bit nervous, but I’m sure they want you to be a part of their lives.”

“I have my own life. And I never chose to be born into his household, you know. I’m an adult now, so don’t expect me to support what you do. I thought I made all of that clear when I moved out.”

Yikes. Perhaps you should have expected this. After all, she’s the same woman who ran off and abandoned her child in the canon series, but you didn’t stop to consider what kind of relationship she had with her father. It’s easy to forget because of how kindly Pops treats you, but he is a gangster, and that kind of lifestyle definitely isn’t for everyone.

“I’ll ask you not to speak to me like that in front of the children,” Pops mutters. It’s rare to see him look so irritated. This is an expression that he never shows you, but based on the weary sigh his daughter lets out, she must be used to it.

“Whatever,” she cuts back. “I’m only staying to talk with the kids for a bit. And to get you off my back. My fiancé's waiting for me at home. I didn’t feel like stressing him out by dragging him along.”

This whole interaction is... awkward, to say the least. But you have a goal, and you’re determined to accomplish it. In order to make sure that Eri gets the life she deserves, starting with her future mother seems like as good a place as any.

You desperately need to get close to her so that she comes to care for you and trust your input. Perhaps, depending on the relationship you’ll build, she won’t actually abandon Eri in this life. If Eri’s mother is there to look after her, then Eri will never fall into Chisaki’s clutches. That entire situation can be avoided if you address the root cause of the issue and ensure that Eri has a loving parent to watch over her.

Experimenting on Eri wasn’t the only evil thing Chisaki did. You know that. But getting his hands on her Quirk was arguably what triggered the worst of it, which is why you resolve to keep the two of them as far apart as possible.

Long story short, you really, really need Eri’s mom to like you.

It’s time to use your cuteness to your advantage.

“Yay!” you cry out excitedly, rushing into the woman’s arms. “I have a big sister now too! This family just keeps getting better!”

She stiffens up immediately. It doesn’t seem like she’s enjoying the hug much, so perhaps she’s not terribly fond of children. Again, this is the same woman who abandoned her daughter outright.

But it’s fine. Chisaki was like this at the start too. He used to push you away every time you tried to act affectionate with him, but now you can’t even remember the last time he kicked up a fuss. If you were able to make progress with someone as elusive as Chisaki, then surely, Eri’s mom won’t be any different.

“See?” Pops beams. “Isn’t she such a sweetheart? It’s fine if you don’t want to spend time with me. I understand that you’ve got your own life now, and you don’t subscribe to my beliefs or traditions. But at the very least, show your face to the kids every now and then. I know it would mean a lot to them.”

“You’re my big sister,” you insist, really laying it on thick—and making sure to flash her a toothy grin for good measure. “Please come by as often as you can! I already like you a lot!”

She’s clearly at a loss for words, and you, being the devious little devil that you are, have no qualms about guilt-tripping her with your adorable face.

Eventually, she succumbs to your schemes and relents, patting your head a few times.

“Well, alright,” she sighs. “I guess I can stay a bit longer than I planned on. I’ll text my fiancé and tell him I’ll be back late.”

Hooray!

You finally pull away from the hug and do a little victory dance. That seems to get a few chuckles out of her, and Pops does the same.

Unfortunately, since you’re too focused on having gotten your way, you fail to take stock of your surroundings. In fact, you’ve completely forgotten about the other person in the room—a boy with short-cropped hair and golden eyes.

Chisaki stares at you without daring to blink.

“...and this is the station where the choo-choo train goes through. You always need to make sure to ring the bell before you pass through the station, okay? Otherwise, it’s just bad manners.”

Eri’s mom—who you now affectionately refer to as Big Sis—lets out a brief, amused chuckle.

“Alright,” she hums. “I promise to always remember to ring the bell.”

“If you break the rules, then you owe me 100 yen,” you say sternly.

“Oh, no! Well, I’d better make sure not to forget, otherwise I’ll go broke in no time.”

You can tell that she’s doing her best to humor you, but at the risk of sounding overconfident, you think it’s going pretty well so far. She seemed a bit standoffish at the start, most likely because she doesn’t have a very close relationship with her father, but since you’re the cutest kid ever (self-proclaimed), naturally, you’re starting to grow on her.

Eri’s mom uses her hand to guide the toy train around the tracks. “So, [Name], my father tells me you’re very smart for your age. You and Chisaki both are, apparently. He says you’ve even been having lessons together instead of relying on any tutors?”

“Kai tutors me now,” you nod. “I learn quickly, and he learns well by himself too, so it works out! Plus, it’s a lot more fun this way. Well, sometimes he gets mad at me if I don’t take things seriously, but I’m super cute, so I always win in the end.”

“You are pretty cute,” she chuckles.

“Only pretty cute?” you blink, somewhat offended. “Not extremely cute?”

“Pardon me,” she says, and she barely manages to stifle a laugh. “I must’ve misspoken. But it’s nice that the two of you are such studious, obedient children. It seems like you’re both really happy here. I honestly wasn’t expecting my father to do such a good job with you. Maybe he’s changed, or maybe he’s different than I remember him being.”

“Pops is really nice,” you insist. “He talks about you a lot, so I know he must really love you. I don’t know a lot about what yakuza do... but he seems like a good guy to me. He’s always patient with everyone, and if anything ever goes wrong, I can always count on him.”

“Good. That’s good. I’m really glad that you like it here.” She pauses to nibble on her bottom lip, and a sad look passes through her eyes. “For most of my life... I wasn’t too happy about being born in this family. You might be able to tell that my father and I aren’t that close. I’m sure you’ve been wondering why it’s taken years to even meet me. Maybe I’m still struggling to come to terms with what he does for a living. I know deep down that he isn’t a bad person, but yakuza aren’t to be taken lightly. That’s why it’s easier for me to just avoid this part of my life instead of facing it head-on.”

You listen attentively, and it’s not until she’s already finished speaking that her hand flies up to cover her mouth.

“S-Sorry,” she stammers. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, talking about all of this with such a young child. Please forget what I just said. I’m running my mouth for no reason.”

“I can listen,” you say, smiling gently. “It’s okay if you need to get things off your chest. I promise I’ll always be here to listen.”

Her ruby-red eyes widen, and really, it’s incredible just how much she resembles Eri. Perhaps this is exactly what Eri will look like when she’s all grown-up, having lived a painless, carefree life—the way she deserves.

“It’s strange,” she mumbles. “You’re only five years old, but it feels like you’re much more mature than your age. It must be because you’re so smart.”

“No one’s smarter than me,” you say proudly. As always, you don’t miss any opportunities when it comes to bragging.

She chuckles again, and it seems like with every passing moment, her expression grows a bit fonder. You have reason to believe that things are going well, and hopefully, this means that she’ll do a better job of looking after Eri in this life.

But all of a sudden, your cute bonding session is interrupted.

“[Name],” Chisaki says. “It’s late. You need to start getting ready for bed.”

You furiously shake your head. “Nuh-uh! I’m hanging out with Big Sis. I don’t know when she’ll come by again, so I want to spend as much time with her as possible.”

For added emphasis, you cling to the silver-haired woman and make a big show of not wanting to let go. Unlike earlier, she’s not quite as fazed by your touch, and she even pats your back reassuringly.

Chisaki does his best not to let it show, but on the inside, he is seething.

Who does this woman think she is, just showing up here out of the blue? Just because she’s Pops’ biological daughter doesn’t mean he accepts her. In fact, she’s yet more proof that blood ties aren’t worth a damn thing. She should be more appreciative of her father, but instead, she almost never visits him and has the nerve to treat him with spite.

This woman is not his sister. You are his only sister. The two of you have lived together for years, always supporting and looking out for each other. You’re a true family. She doesn’t get to just walk into your lives and act like she belongs here all of a sudden.

And yet... why do you look so happy? Why are you embracing her as if you’re ready to let her in, just like that?

It isn’t fair. He is the only sibling you’ll ever need, and he loves you more than this woman could ever pretend to. Not only is she not deserving of her father’s kindness, but she most certainly doesn’t deserve to be graced by your warm, angelic smile.

It’s only for a moment, but Chisaki imagines using his Quirk on her to make her disappear.

“Time for bed,” Chisaki says again, and he proceeds to grab you by the arm and forcibly pull you away from the woman. Of course, you wail out in protest, but he’s bigger and physically stronger than you, so he’s able to hold you in place without too much trouble.

Eri's mom blinks. “Oh. You’re right. It has gotten quite late. Sorry, [Name], but I think you should listen to your older brother and get ready for bed. I’ll try to visit again soon. I’m not promising anything... but I’ll try to make more an effort from now on.”

Your shoulders slump, but you suppose it’s a start, at least. Besides, you still have several years until Eri is even born. There’s plenty of time to accomplish what you’ve set out to do.

“Please come visit whenever you’re free,” you say, making the best puppy eyes you’re capable of. “I miss you already, Big Sis.”

“I’ll do my best,” she promises, and she even ruffles your hair before saying goodbye and walking out of the room.

Chisaki keeps his arms tightly wrapped around you. The woman doesn’t notice it, but the whole time she’s walking away, he glares at her as if he’s out for blood.

Don’t you dare come back.

He’s more certain of it than ever before. The only people you need are him and Pops.

Eri’s mom hasn’t come by to visit as often as you’d hoped, but you can tell that she’s making an effort to be somewhat involved in your life, and that’s what matters the most.

Roughly a year has passed since then, and you’re now six. Granted, you’re still a full decade younger than you were before you died, but you’re slowly growing into a body you can be more comfortable with. Being a six-year-old is leaps and bounds better than being stuck in the body of a toddler, although your lack of coordination still frustrates you at times.

Anyways, there’s not much to report. Everything is still going really well. Chisaki hasn’t shown any signs of concerning behavior. He still has an aversion to germs and doesn’t like the idea of Quirks, but that alone doesn’t mean he’ll resort to villainy. You just need to keep an eye on him and make sure he’s staying on the right path.

Yeah. Everything is just fine.

Until, all of a sudden, it isn’t.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to touch me?!”

There you are, minding your own business and flipping through a nice book you’ve picked up, when the sound of someone screaming makes you jump in place. Right away, you recognize it as being Chisaki’s voice, so you rush out of the room and head towards the source of the scuffle.

You find Chisaki gritting his teeth at one of the Shie Hassaikai members, who can only wave his hands in desperate protest.

“S-Sorry,” the man apologizes. “It was just an accident. I barely even grazed you...”

“The only people allowed to touch me are [Name] and Pops,” Chisaki spits furiously. “Who the hell do you think you are? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

He’s absolutely livid, that much is clear, but it’s the first time he’s ever had such an extreme reaction, and you’re not sure what to do.

When your eyes eventually land on the exposed skin of his forearms, you can feel your heart sink into your stomach.

Hives.

All these years, you’ve never once seen him with hives on his body. In the canon series, he got them pretty much whenever someone touched him, or when he was forced to touch someone himself. But since it never happened until now, you’ve been holding out hope that his aversions won’t be quite as serious this time around.

Unfortunately, based on what you’ve just stumbled across, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

His phobia is getting worse.

“From now on, make sure to stay the fuck away from me,” Chisaki hisses.

The man nods weakly, and he leaves before the situation can escalate any further. You’ve been left alone with Chisaki, and it doesn’t take long for his eyes to land on you.

“Ah,” he blinks. “[Name]. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were here. What is it? Did you want something from me?”

You don’t know how to respond. You wish you could help him somehow, but you can’t possibly understand the psychological stressors that have led him to this point. You want him to know that the world is beautiful just the way it is. That there’s no reason to avoid others to such an extreme. But no matter what you say or do, he holds firm to his beliefs.

Knowing what kind of miserable fate he once suffered but still not being to fix all his problems...

It’s just a really shitty feeling.

“Kai, I’m here for you,” you say. It’s the most you’re capable of, unfortunately. Perhaps he needs to speak to a therapist. Someone who has professional experience and can help him address the root cause of his phobia. It probably won’t be easy to convince him to get help, but you’re willing to do whatever it takes.

Chisaki frowns. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. That idiot made the mistake of touching me, but as long as he doesn’t get so careless again, everything should be alright.”

“But you shouldn’t be so afraid of getting close to people. I just want you to be happy, and it sucks that I don’t know how to help.”

You’re a bit hesitant about getting closer to him, worried that he might still be a bit squeamish from earlier, but rather than backing away, Chisaki takes the initiative and pulls you up against his chest.

"Don’t be silly,” he muses, smiling so brightly that you would never have guessed he was screaming at someone just a few moments ago. “I’m perfectly fine. See? I can hold you just like this. The only people I need to be close to are you and Pops. As long as I have my family, what does it matter if I avoid everyone else? They’re all filthy anyways. This is more than enough.”

Perhaps he thinks it’s enough, but he’s still suffering, even if he won’t acknowledge it. You want him to realize that there are plenty of good people in this world that he can get close to. You don’t want him to assume the worst of others and treat them like a blight.

It all sounds so easy on paper. Being reincarnated into a world you’re familiar with and changing things as you see fit. But the reality is that no one person can control what another person does, and Chisaki will never be free of his fears unless he faces them by himself.

Still. You will be by his side to support him through all of it. You’ll never give up on him, and you can only hope that one day, he will emerge a changed man.

Chisaki holds you snug, and it’s ironic, because unlike when the other man touched him, your presence seems to have a soothing effect.

“Ah,” he suddenly realizes, pulling away to look you in the eye. “Actually, I think I have an idea. Something that’ll help me feel more comfortable around others.”

Your eyes are wide and hopeful. “Really? What’s that?”

Looking back at this moment, you realize how stupid you were to feel optimistic. It should have been obvious from the very start. The fact that his phobia was becoming more intense, the way he lashed out at someone so aggressively... all of it was pointing towards the natural progression of his character, just like in the canon series.

You watch, disappointment overtaking your features, as Chisaki puts on a mask for the very first time.

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