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biaswreckingfics · 4 years ago

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No Limits: Part 12

Author: biaswreckingfics

Genre: Mafia AU - Warnings? Everything that goes on in a mafia au

Word Count: 2.4k

Previous Chapter

Sehun's POV

He stared blankly at the water as he tried not to let his nervous thoughts consume him. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore, and the slight breeze that rustled his jacket, helped calm his racing heart while he waited for EXO to show up.

He did everything he could to make sure that he wasn't followed, especially since he didn't know who or how many members of EXO would be meeting up with him today. Jaesuk helped give him a cover story, telling Minho that he needed a shipment picked up from some boat that was coming in this afternoon. Sehun didn't ask questions when Jaesuk told him about his idea. Instead, he gratefully accepted Jae's help, and luckily for both of them, Minho believed the made-up scenario.

Sehun had truly lucked out when the Baem paired him up with Jaesuk. They just so happened to stick him with the one member that was ready to bring them their downfall. To say Sehun was shocked when he found out was an understatement, but it turns out, confronting Jaesuk that day was one of the best things Sehun had ever done.

"What else do you know?"

"What else do you?" Jaesuk asks him cautiously.

Sehun was nervous, but he had already made the first move, so he might as well dive in headfirst.

"I know I'm not a Baem member..." Jaesuk lets out a hum of acknowledgment but otherwise stays silent. "...And I know I'm a member of EXO."

At the mention of EXO, Jaesuk quickly scans their surroundings. He checks to see if anyone was within earshot before looking back at Sehun. "Took you long enough."

Sehun freezes at his words. Surely he had heard him wrong. There was no way Jaesuk was waiting for him to realize he was a part of EXO, right?

"What?" Sehun asks the other man with bewilderment.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to figure it out."

Sehun stares at Jaesuk dumbfoundedly. What the heck was happening right now? Why was Jaesuk so willingly discussing this with him? Why was he waiting for him to realize the truth about who he was?

"Are your memories back?" Jaesuk curiously asks. When Sehun shakes his head no, Jae's brows furrow. "How did you figure it out then?"

Sehun debated if it was smart to tell him. He still didn't know what the man's intentions were, but Sehun mostly trusted Jaesuk. Maybe that was stupid of him, but his gut told him it was the right thing to do.

Sehun thought about it for another moment before deciding. He was going to tell him, but he was going to leave you out of it. EXO was one thing, but the Baem still wanted you for leverage.

"I found a way to get into contact with them... I think I'll leave it at that for now, though."

Jaesuk studies his face before nodding. "Smart. There are not many people you can trust around here."

"Are you going to tell them I know?" Sehun cautiously asks, not even realizing he was holding his breath.

"No." He responds, surprising Sehun for the third time tonight. "You know... I actually like you, Sehun. You're kind of cold, but that's to be expected... If this were a different world, I think the two of us would've caused a lot of trouble together."

Sehun's mouth drops open at the compliment, and he quickly shuts it. Mafia men weren't supposed to be emotional or sentimental. At least, they weren't supposed to show it.

"Now what?"

Jaesuk grins mischievously at him. "Now, I'm going to help you get the fuck out of here."

Sehun hears movement behind him, drawing him back into the present. When he turns, he's met with four figures. You and three men who looked like they were seeing a ghost. Which, if Sehun thought about it, they kind of were.

Sehun nervously swallows before taking the first step toward you.

Y/N's POV

You immediately notice the shocked silence around you as Sehun cautiously approaches the group. The younger man offers you a small smile while his eyes dart around the other group members. Once he's within five feet of you, he stops.

You glance at the men around you, taking in Chanyeol's frozen state while you do. Jongdae's eyes curiously look Sehun up and down, while Junmyeon takes a step toward Sehun before stopping himself. If you had to guess, your brother wanted to see if the man in front of him was truly there, or if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Finally, Junmyeon breaks the silence with a sad voice. "I'd hug you right now, Sehun, but I don't think you know who I am."

Sehun takes in the leader's words, and you can see him trying to carefully choose his. Gently, he says, "I know who you are... I just don't remember who you are to me..."

"So, it's true," Jongdae breathes. "Your memory is gone."

Sehun nods in thought. "Mostly. I'm remembering little things here and there, obviously," looking pointedly around at the location he had chosen, "but the majority of it is gone."

"How did you end up with the Baem... and what made you contact us?" Your brother asks. He tried to sound curious, but you wondered if this was his way of testing Sehun to see where his loyalties lie.

Sehun launches into his story of waking up at the warehouse and the Baem finding him there and claiming he was one of their own. He told the group how he felt wrong while he was with them and like he wasn't supposed to be there. How he felt connected to EXO and when he overheard the Baem's plan of killing him once he got his memories back. Sehun spilled everything like he hadn't had anyone to talk to in months.

You couldn't imagine how terrified he had been. How scary it would be to wake up in a wrecked warehouse and not being able to remember who you were or how you even got there. Then spending time with a mafia group when you know their plan is to off you the second they find you useless. Although, you could relate to the last one a little, considering you had no idea what EXO's intentions were when you came to them.

"Well, I'm relieved you are alive and okay... We all are." Jongdae slowly says while he fidgets with the zipper on his jacket. It was clear he didn't like being away from his surveillance equipment for too long and wanted to go back to the vehicle. "Now that I've seen you with my own eyes. I've got to get back and make sure everything is still okay."

As Jongdae walks away, Junmyeon immediately starts telling Sehun that they're going to take him back to EXO. That it was time for Sehun to come home with them, but you aren't surprised when the younger man quickly refuses the idea. He had refused you when you tried to get him to come home the day you saw him too.

"Why?” Junmyeon asks in bewilderment, making Sehun shrug.

"This may sound crazy, but... I feel like there's something I still need to do. I don't know what, but it's the same feeling that I got when I knew I had to contact you. Also, I want to take the Baem down for good."

You run Sehun's words through your mind and try to figure out what it would be that Sehun felt like he had to do. Sehun was no fan of the Baem, especially after they killed his cousin, but what could he do from within Baem territory that he couldn't do from EXO's compound?

"Well, that's something we all want," your brother assures him. "That information you gave us has been incredibly useful. We've already got the plan forming, and, let's just say, it'll be over soon... Especially if we can get a little help from the inside."

You had stayed back while the boys spoke with Sehun since this was their first time seeing him in months, and you already had. Now that they were speaking about the plan against the Baem, you felt like it was time to join the conversation.

"Sehun... Have you seen the leaders at all? Two of them were able to escape the first time we attacked... We need to find them before we can put the plan into motion."

Sehun pauses at your words and looks back at you with wide eyes. "That's it. That's what I need to do."

You and Junmyeon share a look, wondering if you were helping Sehun remember something.

"I'll find the leaders who escaped while I still have a chance, and then I'll come back to EXO."

Junmyeon looks like he wants to object before he sighs and lets it go. "Don't do anything that's going to put yourself into danger."

"I have someone inside who can help me. Don't worry."

You try to hide the shock you feel at his words, but it was too difficult, and you knew it was written all over your face. How could Sehun willingly work with your enemy? "A Baem member?"

"I trust him," Sehun nods, looking back and forth between you and your brother and taking in your reactions. "So, please trust me."

Junmyeon must've been feeling the same way you were, but he was having a little more difficulty attempting to hide it than you were. The man looked like he was having an aneurism. "You're... okay... okay..."

You quickly bring your hand up to rub your brother's back and calm him down at the thought of Sehun trusting a Baem member. "If you have someone you can trust... Good. Use them."

The slight breeze pushes your hair into your face, and you flip it back with the shake of your head. That's when you realize you had forgotten Chanyeol was even there. The tall man still stood next to you but was a complete frozen statue. You take in his shaken appearance and ghostly pale face before Sehun interrupts your observation.

"I'm sorry for... strangling... you," he awkwardly tells you.

You look back at him, startled that he would randomly say that, and wave him off with an "it's fine" before your brother can step in and say anything about it. Instead, you bring your focus back to Chanyeol. Now was his time to talk to Sehun, and he was either in shock or frozen in terror.

You look back at Sehun to see that his focus had also finally fallen on the statue of a man. All your mind could do was wonder if Sehun knew they were cousins or if he knew how close they were.

Noticing the silence, Chanyeol blinks a couple times before looking between the three of you. When he realizes he's the object of everyone's attention, his eyes widen and snap toward you in panic. He opens his mouth a couple times like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. His eyes darting between you and Sehun in the process.

Sehun clearly notices the awkwardness of the other man and in a quiet voice, asks, "Are we close?"

That was all it took for Chanyeol to lose it. Tears immediately begin freefalling down his face, while his legs give out on him, and he drops down to the sand.

The moment causes both you and Junmyeon to freeze, while Sehun looks wildly between the three of you. He quickly mumbles out an apology to the man now losing it at his feet, shock taking over his features at the situation. You take a step toward Chanyeol, but he quickly shakes his head once he sees the movement, so you stay still.

"You're cousins. Well... more like brothers," Junmyeon tells Sehun. "The two of you have been through a lot together. More than most."

Sehun slowly nods as confusion and sadness battle for dominance on his face. How horrible it must be to watch someone who deeply cared for you crumble into pieces because you had no idea who they were? Sehun sways a little on his feet like he was trying to decide if he should comfort this stranger or if that would make it worse. His phone suddenly rings, distracting all of you and even quieting Chanyeol down.

Sehun quickly pulls his phone out and turns away from the scene while Junmyeon takes the opportunity to go over to Chanyeol and help him up. When he attempts to grab his arms and bring him to his feet, Chanyeol pushes him off, making Junmyeon stumble in the sand. Your brother sighs and quickly gives up, knowing he'll get nowhere.

Chanyeol tries to hide a couple sniffles as he stands up from his kneeling position, but they were still audible. Sehun hangs up his phone, but you knew he had seen the entire dilemma between Chanyeol and Junmyeon from his peripheral vision. He furrows his eyebrows, telling you he took in the information but didn't know how to process it.

"I need to go..." He pauses before pointing between the two men. "But whatever is happening between the two of you, you need to work it out and get it to-fucking-gether. We all need to be on the same page when we take the Baem down, or else we go down with them."

Sehun turns and walks away, leaving those as his parting words. You stifle a laugh once you realize the youngest just basically told the leader and his cousin to stop acting like children. You look between the two men and see the sheepish and guilty looks on their faces. Sehun may not remember anything, but he certainly still had his "sassy, don't care" attitude.

Chanyeol lets out a small laugh in disbelief while he watches Sehun walk away. A small smile grows on Junmyeon's face when he hears Chanyeol's laughter, even though the younger man had just pushed him off when he was trying to help. The next words that came out of Chanyeol's mouth had relief flowing through you too.

"That was such a Sehun thing to say."

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cathoderaysunshinebeaver · 4 years ago

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Heretic/Hexen

I love Doom. I’ve never made an attempt to list my favorite video games in a numerical order, but if I did, Doom would likely be one of the highest, if not #1. I’m also a big fan of the “dark fantasy” aesthetic, so discovering the Heretic/Hexen series was a treat, to say the least.

Released in 1994, Heretic was built using the Doom engine by Raven Software, with John Romero himself having helped the team set up their computers and teaching them the basics of how he would make maps for the game. With this in mind, you’d be forgiven for saying what a lot of reviewers said at the time: this game looks like a Doom reskin with a fantasy theme.

This sentiment mostly applies to the first game, Heretic. But in a sea of other “Doom clones” released at the time, it is definitely one of the more competent ones. You play as Corvus, one of the few surviving elves in a world overtaken by the evil Serpent Riders, who have decided to exterminate all the elves because their magical powers make them resistant to the mind control spells the Serpent Riders use to conquer and subjugate realm after realm on their quest for world domination. Unsurprisingly, Corvus is out for revenge, and the end goal of the game is to hunt down and kill the first of the three Serpent Riders, D’Sparil.

The gameplay in Heretic is more similar to Doom than in the later games, but it does the Doom formula well. Most weapons have a distinct counterpart in the game it is based on: the Elven Wand is your pistol, the Dragon Claw is your chaingun, the Ethereal Crossbow is your shotgun, and so on. They are satisfying to use (save the wand, arguably), and look deliciously fantasy-eque, with beautiful spritework. The levels are split into a familiar structure, featuring three episodes with nine levels each (and two more episodes released as an expansion pack). The enemies are varied, with pretty animations and distinct sounds, and play into the Doom experience very well in that the combinations and locations of enemies in each area lends itself to very different strategies (although “run really fast and blast everyone with the crossbow” rarely fails on most difficulties). The two expansion episodes are considerably more challenging, and will require more quick thinking and ammo, sorry, mana conservation. Definitely a fun romp.

The sequel, Hexen, is where the series starts finding it’s own unique twist on the genre, and is the by many regarded as the “classic” that really put the franchise on the map. Again, you’re playing as a vindictive hero on a quest to liberate their realm from the Serpent Riders. This time it’s Korax, the second out of the three. However, now you’ve got to pick a class. This is the first big difference you’ll notice when starting the game. Corvus is MIA from his last adventure, and instead your choice of protagonist is between Baratus the Fighter, Parias the Cleric, and Daedolon the mage. While the game isn’t an RPG, these characters all have different stats when it comes to running speed and base HP. More importantly, they each have access to their own unique set of weapons. Mana is shared between the weapons, which are now split into green, blue and dual mana types, but they all behave very differently. For example, the fighter’s weapons are mostly of the melee variety and consume mana rapidly only for special attack modes, as they can still be swung without mana. The mage on the other hand uses his bare hands to cast a lot of his spells, but they do not burn through mana nearly as quickly. Unsurprisingly, the cleric is a hybrid, and uses both a spiked club and a mix of magical weapons. An “ultimate” weapon is also available to each class, which must be assembled from parts and consumes both blue and green mana, but has really devastating attacks (the cleric’s “Wraithverge” summons ghosts that scream like banshees and tear every nearby enemy to shreds; it’s just as metal as it sounds)!

Beyond the class differences, the level structure is the other major difference between Heretic and Hexen. Instead of a linear series of levels, each episode is now defined by a hub level with many branching areas that can usually be visited in any order. You need to find key items and activate switches in each one to open the way to the next world, and many areas within each sub-level are also locked until you find the right key/switch in a completely different area. As would be expected, this new spin on the level progression comes with both pros and cons. Few players today will be able to complete the game without ever looking at a walkthrough, and based on some comments I’ve read, this is one of those games that many people in the 90s would only dream of beating on their own. That said, there are very few instances where pulling a switch won’t at the very least give you a short message indicating it’s purpose (i.e. “A door has opened in the Wastelands”), and even then those with enough patience will rarely feel completely lost if they’re willing to backtrack systematically through every area over and over, taking note of every single locked door and unreachable area. I doubt it’s something the majority of gamers enjoy doing, but if you’re the type who would rather give up before accepting a hint, I’m happy to report that this game IS beatable even with your play style.

On the other hand, this structure also adds a lot to the feeling of being on a dangerous, epic quest. Metroidvania fans know that there are few things as satisfying as picking up a key and thinking “hey, I recognize this symbol! Now I can finally see what’s behind that door in the swamp!”. Uncovering the world bit by bit in this fashion really lends an air of mystery to the land of Cronos (where Hexen is set), and truly gives you that classic feeling of “pride and accomplishment” when you’re finally able to descend into that forbidding temple that’s been looming on the horizon for so long. And for those of you who are worried you won’t get to blast enough monsters to get your fill, this game still has you covered.

The enemies in Hexen are just as threatening as those in Heretic, and they look even better this time (seriously, if you enjoyed the visual aspect of Heretic, Hexen steps it up tenfold with truly gorgeous sprites, textures, animations and even some environmental visual effects, like thick mist and dead leaves blowing in the wind). You’ve got a fantastic cast of evil wizards, zombies, dog-like orcs, Minotaurs and more types of dragons and dragon hybrids than you could shake a Mace of Contrition at. A good amount of the baddies are initially very similar to those in Heretic, but their attacks are more distinct, varied and dangerous, and there are a whole lot more of these guys this time around. If you have the enemy counter turned on in your automap it won’t be uncommon to see the numbers exceed 400, and some of the weaker enemies will even respawn after a while. Don’t worry though, it’s not frequent enough to be stressful, but instead it really helps the backtracking from getting too tedious. Key hunting is a lot more intense when you never know if an Ettin is waiting around the corner to cave your skull in! However, if you’ve seen any other reviews of this game, you’ve heard a lot of grief expressed in regards to the Minotaurs (and their big brothers, the Maulotaurs). They aren’t the strongest foe in the game, but their shields, their surprise lighting bolts and their sheer numbers can definitely be a pain in the gluteus maximus. On the plus side, it makes killing them all the more satisfying, and you’ll find yourself experimenting quite a bit with your weapons and items to figure out the safest and quickest way to end their existence.

That’s right, I forgot to mention the items. The third and last major difference between Doom and these games is your inventory. The items are largely the same in all the games in the series, and using them can be a bit of a hassle unless you’re willing to fiddle around with your control settings to find a setup you prefer (I would usually bind the item selection keys to the scroll wheel and use them with the right mouse button). Visually, the inventory is similar to that seen in Duke Nukem 3D, and just like in that game, you’ll likely find yourself using some items a lot more frequently than others. Health and mana refills are a major aid, and beyond that you have things such as invisibility, invincibility, flechettes (despite what the name says, they’re more like grenades or mines, depending on your class), and a magical book that gives your weapons a much more powerful firing mode for a short time (although this item is mysteriously absent in Hexen). A special mention also goes to the Morph Ovum/Porkelator/Seal of the Ovinomancer, which transforms an enemy into a chicken/pig/sheep, respectively. A lot of fun to use, and and immense help against some stronger enemies if you’re low on health and/or mana.

If you didn’t find yourself using these items all too much in Heretic or Hexen, the following game might just give you a reason to. Hexen II is the third game in the series, and the final chapter in the Serpent Riders saga. This time you’re in the realm of Thyrion, and the last Serpent Rider, Eidolon, is the one who must be slain to free the land from his curse. In terms of gameplay, Hexen II is a lot more similar to Hexen than Hexen was to Heretic. You’ve got the same type of hub level structure, and you’ll again pick a class at the start, although now your choice has expanded, consisting of the Crusader, Paladin, Necromancer and Assassin, as well as the Demoness in the expansion (yes, all these games have expansion packs and they’re all worth playing in that they’re more of the same, but expanded, duh, and more polished).

The major difference this time around is one you can probably tell immediately from the screenshot: yes, Hexen II goes 3D (and in an exception to the common rule at the time, it is NOT titled “Hexen 3D” despite technically being the third installment). Specifically, the game uses a modified Quake engine. As mentioned, the core gameplay remains largely the same as in Hexen, but the level designers definitely did not waste that extra dimension. The levels are less expansive here, but a lot more complex and full of hidden passages, surprising loops and a whole lot of verticality. Scurring across a courtyard with archers raining arrows down on you from balconies is just as tense as it is satisfying later on to reach the same balcony and return the favor to any ghoul unlucky enough to find themselves below. Overall, the layout and progression in each area feels like it’s been given a lot more consideration and has endured more testing. Most of the time, the key hunting in each area feels more self-contained, and when it isn’t you rarely feel like you have no idea where to go. This is because every lock has been designed to feel more like a puzzle. In practice, your goal is still to find an item and bring it somewhere, but the locks and keys themselves are much more distinct, which helps you remember what to do and where to go. Instead of levers and typical keys, you find yourself looking for artefacts such as potion ingredients that will let you turn metal into wood, pieces of a broken mechanism or symbolic relics that must be placed in the hands of a statue to go in line with a prophecy. There are also more direct instructions in the form of book entries and inscribed stone tablets, which are very helpful in those cases where the puzzle might require a bit more than just item hunting, such as pulling switches in a certain order or lining objects up to create a pattern. It’s still unlikely that you’ll breeze through the whole game without getting confused, but you’ll rarely be at a complete loss; you’ll usually know what you’re looking for or what you’re trying to activate, even if you may need a walkthrough to find a specific hidden passage or to figure out exactly what a contraption does.

Overall, Hexen II feels like a refined Hexen, with more care put into making every area feel very distinct. It is absolutely not any less challenging though. The areas might be smaller in terms of actual units of measurement, and there are definitely fewer enemies on the screen at all times, but this is compensated for in spades. The third dimension adds a thick layer of complexity to every level, and the enemies hit HARD. If you got into a rhythm in Hexen of circle strafing, dodging and picking off targets in an order of perceived priority, you’ll have to learn to dance to a different tune here. Some enemies will close in on you incredibly quickly, and many of them have the ability to turn you into minced meat in a matter of seconds. Now more than ever is when you’ll want to shoot with a steady aim, use your items wisely, keep all the possible paths of retreat in your mental map, and scour every nook and cranny for health and mana to stand a chance against some of the stronger mooks. Hexen II as a whole is a lot more fast paced and tense and also has a more dramatic views and set pieces along with some extra bits of storytelling scattered around the world for those interested.

So, what are my thoughts on the Heretic/Hexen series as a whole? In short, it’s a treat. Combining classic fantasy tropes with the hectic action of Doom (and Quake) was an idea that was bound to happen sooner or later, and in this case, it worked out really well. There are of course other examples of this iconic clash of genres (check out Amid Evil for a totally kick-ass recent example!), but from what I know, the Serpent Riders saga is the one with the most lasting appeal. All the games strike a great balance between frantic, gory FPS action and the slower paced mystery and brooding sense of evil that only dark castles and dungeons can provide, with each game leaning a bit more toward one direction or the other. At a core gameplay level, there is nothing absolutely groundbreaking about Heretic/Hexen, but every element is done well and with care, and the presentation oozes of 20th century gothic fantasy charm, both the visuals and music. If the first paragraph of this review made you go “oh, those are both things I like!” then definitely check these games out. Same goes for anyone who is simply curious about the history of Id software and the impact Doom and Quake had on the gaming landscape. My only warning to you before playing these games is this: keep in mind that these games are from the 90s. There’s a reason many people have memories of booting these games up, getting completely stuck and then never playing them again. That said, as long as you have an internet connection (how else would you be reading this?) and an average amount of patience, there’s a whole lot of fun to be had here. All the games mentioned above are available on Steam (and GoG as well, I believe), and play excellently with modern source ports: gzdoom for Heretic and Hexen, and Hammer of Thyrion for Hexen II are my recommendations.

Finally, there is another game in the franchise. Heretic II returns to the story of Corvus (from the first game) and continues the story beyond the Serpent Riders arc, but due to some licensing issues it is not available on neither Steam nor GoG. Technically you could still buy a physical copy of the game, and I’ve seen mentions of at least one fan endeavor to make the game more accessible on modern computers, but I have yet to check it out. Maybe in the future. For now, I hope you enjoyed this dive into one of the slightly less famous, but still very popular classic 90s “Doom clones”!

#doom #id software #heretic #hexen #raven software #hexen ii #quake #90s #gaming #boomer shooter

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monomonomagines · 4 years ago

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Prompt #30 Sakura with Passing out Candy

While passing out candy was a small feat for most, it seemed to be rather challenging for the Ultimate Martial Artist, Sakura Ogami. Of course, that wasn’t to say she found any difficulties in taking a piece of candy and giving it out. Nor was it that she disliked kids. It was more so that even without a spooky costume children and their parents alike were normally scared by her appearance and size, Halloween being no exception to this. If only people would understand what a buff gorgeous goddess Sakura was. She was no beast or ogre but your princess.

Well maybe that’s exaggerating just a tad but the sentiment was all the same to you. You wanted to be able to help your girlfriend join in on the fun festivities of the Holidays without scaring people off and you needed to figure out a way quickly or else it’d be another year of the two of you finishing off a bowl yourself. Though, come to think of it, even then it was mostly you getting to enjoy the candy, not that it would happen again! No, this time you swore that you’d find a solution and you’d be damned if you didn’t.

Sitting on the couch in your shared home, Sakura gives you a gentle smile, her wavy bone white hair pulled up to keep it out of her face while the two of you prepare your remaining decorations for that night.

“What do you think about going in a cute costume! I’m sure the kids wouldn’t be scared of you if you were a fairy or witch or something!” With a big smile on your face you could see her think for a moment before suddenly shaking her head.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, S/o. I’m sure my looks would still scare them away.”

Despite her strong gruff voice always seeming to never waver, you could hear it in her tone that she was upset. This kind of thing always happened to Sakura. No one ever saw her as a woman the way they should other than you and Aoi and it was wearing on her. If only there was something fun that only Sakura could do, something that the kids would enjoy.

That’s when it clicked. “Well what about your gi?”

“My uniform for tournaments? I don’t see how that would be any different.” Sakura admits, seeming confused by your suggestion entirely.

“No, no I mean like...what if we made a dojo sort of on the porch? We have the stuff and we have time. It wouldn’t be authentic of course, but you could be like a martial arts master and like throw candy at people and do sick flips and stuff or I mean pass it even. Either way though, it’d be great, you’re literally the Ultimate Martial Artist anyways!”

Exhaling from her nose as if she’s laughing, Sakura gives you a big smile seeming to get your plan even despite your rambling. “True. That would be something that no one else has done yet.”

“So you mean-”

Nodding she gives you a content look. “Yes, I’ll do it. There is no way to move forward if I’m not willing to take advantage of my strengths. Thank you, S/o for reminding me of that.”

“Haha, no problem!” You affirm, getting bashful now that she was praising.

“Let’s get to work!” Sakura states, brimming with a new found confidence.

“Right! Let’s do this!” You agree, exchanging a small peck between the two of you before getting to the brute work.

Of course, Sakura did most of the lifting for your last minute decorating and well, most of everything nearly but she was happy to do it with you just as much as you were overjoyed to help her with what you could. You were her moral support, her strength when she felt weak and she was your protector. She’d always look out for you and have your back, even with helping you into your own gi for your plan tonight!

Now that things were set up, it would just be time to watch for trick or treaters to approach. Taking her large hand in your own, you hold onto Sakura who stares at the porch steps seeming a little anxious.

“Thank you, S/o. Having you with me gives me strength.”

Feeling your warmth seems to make her a little less tense as she exhales again through her nose, tan skin glistening with sweat from working so fast to make this porch dojo a reality. You knew she wanted just to make even one kid smile and in a way you wished for it just as much as she did. This was what she wanted.

Calling out before you could even hear yourself you beam brightly as you see a wide eyed kid approach your the steps of the porch. “Sakura, look!”

Noticing a young boy in a batman costume with a small pumpkin basket in his hands timidly approach, Sakura did her best to give him a confident smirk as she starts her act.

“You’re a brave one coming to challenge yourself at this dojo. Allow me to bestow upon you this candy. It will give you strength to allow you to conquer whatever may come at you.”

Holding out her large hand with a small piece in the center she waits for him to act. You could tell she was prepared for him to run away but rather than do anything, he just looked at her and the candy, seeming to contemplate what to do before grasping it with his small grubby hands and giving her a toothy smile.

“Thanks, Lady!” He yells over the noise, turning his back to run off the porch to his parents as Sakura stood there dumb founded. Only breaking from her trance as the young boy waved at her before walking away.

“It worked.” She gasps out, almost seeming to have scared herself with her success before a big grin began to work its way across her features.

“Sakura you did it!” You cheer, giving her a hug which she gladly returns.

“We did. I couldn’t have done this without your help S/o. Thank you, you truly are my strength.”

Finding yourself far too excited to care you pull her down into a smooch, pressing your lips against hers.

“I love you too! No go out there and make some more kids happy, ok!”

With a softened expression Sakura pumps a fist. “I will!”

“Yeah! Let’s do this!”

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #dr1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #sakura ogami #sakura x reader #october prompts #mod toko #I hope you all enjoyed this one!#I love getting to give Sakura soft moments!

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that-rock-chick · 4 years ago

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Love Bites

Love sucks. That's pretty much common knowledge. Combine that with addiction, money, fame, and childhood trauma and you've got a recipe for disaster.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Same shit, different fucking day.

Don't ask me how I'm balancing six days a week at my job and band practice three to four days a week, because I truly have no fucking idea. I tried college but once the band formed, I cut that out of my schedule completely.

It's been about a months since the argument with Gwen and Tiffany went down and our band hasn't practiced. I tried to be sympathetic for the longest time, but it's beyond ridiculous now. Veronica, Tiffany, and I have been wanting to do band stuff but Gwen refuses because she's mad that Tiffany is dating a man SHE broke up with. It's not like Tiffany did it intentionally, and the fact that she's letting her own personal stuff interfere with our band is really pissing me off.

We've all got shit going on, but Gwen loves being a drama queen. Veronica has suggested kicking her out of the band a few times and Tiffany has echoed the same sentiment, but I don't think my patience has thinned to that extent just yet.

But it's getting there.

Young musicans aren't hard to come by, but finding someone who fits the band's sound as perfectly as Gwen's adds on a large layer of difficulty that I'm not prepared for. We'd have to start all over, teach our new singer the songs, establish chemistry...it seems exhausting and more trouble than it's worth, at least for the time being.

"Hey Julie." Dylan greeted me as I walked past, something he does whenever we work together. Sometimes it ends up being the best part of my day.

As the day progresses, I find myself smiling a lot more than I usually do. Customers are easier to deal with and a large amount of them were actually friendly. It created a light-hearted atmosphere in the restaurant that we don't get too often, unfortunately. The time seemed to fly by.

"Good luck Dylan." I said goodbye and walked out of the front door. Dylan was always there a hour before I arrived, and an hour before I left. The rest of the staff is pretty cool, but Dylan is the only one I'd consider to be a friend of mine. He's essentially the less musically inclined male version of me.

I head to our rehearsal space for the second time this week. I've extended the invitation to Gwen, as if she needs an invitation to show up to her own fucking band's rehearsal. If she doesn't show up tonight, she's out. Our time is just as important as hers and we're all tired of it being wasted.

I'm usually the first person to show up, but some days that isn't the case, like today.

"Hey." Gwen says shyly.

I give her a blank stare and proceeded to put my things down on a table nearby.

"Nice of you to finally decided to show up." I stated plainly.

"Look, I know I've missed a lot of practice and I totally understand the three of you being pissed at me, but can you please take one second to see this from my perspective?"

I couldn't help but scoff at what was coming out of Gwen's mouth. Has she seriously taken an objective look at the situation and came to the conclusion that she has a leg to stand on.

"Okay fine. You broke up with a guy, he moved onto Tiffany, you were so jealous that he wasn't falling you around like a lost puppy, and you took it out on Tiffany."

Gwen rolled her eyes but before she could speak, Tiffany and Veronica entered the room. Anger was written all over Tiffany's face, while Veronica seemed to be as cool as a cucumber.

That's one thing I've always liked about Veronica. She can keep her cool in some pretty tough situations. That's not all there is to like about her, though. She's utterly gorgeous. Her dark skin and hair that was almost always styled in an afro were truly beautiful features that I couldn't help but admire. She's beautiful, smart, talented, and has an amazing personality. She's the full package.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Tiffany wasted no time begining the screaming match we all knew was about to go down.

"We're in the same band." Gwen managed to maintain her regular tone of voice, but if I know Tiff like I think I do, and trust me, I do, she'll keep going until she sets Gwen off and then everything will go up in flames.

"Clearly the band hasn't been very high on your list of priorities for the past four weeks. Finally make time in your schedule for us, princess?" Tiffany was speaking with her genuine emotions, but part of her wanted to get a reaction out of Gwen. She knows how Gwen feels about being called "princess".

Gwen looks like she wants to say something to Tiffany that would no doubt escalate the situation even further, but she takes a deep breath and regains her composure.

"I'm sorry, okay? For everything. Julie was right, I should've maintained my professionalism above all else...and I shouldn't have put some guy over you and our friendship."

The three of us looked at Gwen semi-shocked. That girl never apologizes for anything. Instead of responding, Tiffany tells Veronica and I that she's stepping out for a smoke.

I'm not sure if we should discuss things further or let bygones be bygones, but it's not exactly my place to make that call.

Tiffany returns just as I finshed tuning my guitar and walked up to Gwen. If I didn't know Tiffany, I'd say she was going to punch Gwen in the face with the speed she was moving.

"That whole situation was fucked up, but I know how hard it is for you to apologize to people, so I forgive you." Tiffany pulls Gwen in for a hug and for the first time in awhile, things seem okay between the four of us.

"I would like to reiterate that Gwendolyn said I was right." I smiled proudly.

"Yeah, don't get used to hearing that from me."

It was nice while it lasted, at least.

Band practice turned out to be super productive, and it hasn't been that way in a long time. We got a lot of work done today and hopefully we can keep this up for awhile. We spent about 7 hours in our rehearsal space and it felt more like 5 minutes. Time really does fly when you're surrounded by positivity.

The girls and I said our goodbyes and parted ways for the night. Tiffany had mentioned that we haven't seen each other this past month like we usually do. Of course I feel bad about that, she's been my best friend for so long. But I've been spending a lot of time with the Guns N' Roses boys...Axl in particular can be a persuasive little shit when he wants to be. I've already told the guys that Tiffany's birthday is this weekend and they can't keep monopolizing my time. I need more feminine energy!

"Julie!" I hear someone call out. I recognize the voice as soon as it hits my ears.

"Hey Slash, what's up?"

Minus Izzy, I'm becoming pretty close with the members of Guns N' Roses. I just wish that man wasn't so goddamn illusive.

Slash and I walk and talk. Clearly he's decided we're hanging out tonight. I don't mind it much since Tiffany's going out with Victor tonight, Gwen is visiting her parents, and Veronica is doing god knows what, like always. So even if I wanted to make plans with someone, it's not like I had anyone else anyway.

"I don't think anyone's at the house, besides Izzy." From the way he phrased his sentence, it was a clear indication that Slash had no interest in staying at the "Hell House" with Izzy, he usually opted to spend his nights the same way he spent his days: completely wasted. It didn't matter if it was alcohol or heroin, if it got him high, he'd take it.

But this isn't about Slash. I want to see Izzy...I might have a slight obsession with a man who has never even said a single word to me, but I mean, he's absolutely gorgeous. There's something about him that keeps me drawn to him and I'm determined to figure out what it is. No matter how long it takes me.

"Then let's go to the house."

Before Slash can process what I said so he could say no, I grab him by the arm and run as fast as I possibly can while dragging a grown man behind me. It only takes about 15 seconds of running before I realized, Slash in tow or not, I'm very out of shape. I'm running out of breath, determined to get to the band's house. I'll be wheezing all the way down Sunset Boulevard and trying to convince myself it's worth it by the time we get there. But knowing me, it won't.

We enter the house and lo and behold...

Izzy isn't there. Despite me struggling to breathe, the look of defeat plasters my face and Slash starts laughing his ass off.

"Izzy's out working, I just wanted to see how you'd react. Sure didn't think you'd go runnin to our house, though." Slash manages to get out through his fit of hysterical laughter.

"Slash! Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because I know you like him. I got the confirmation I needed. Just wait until I tell Duff!" Slash heads for the stairs, but I grab his arm before he starts his ascent.

"You cannot tell Duff." I tell him seriously.

"He can't tell Duff what?" Duff appears from the kitchen

"And why are you out of breath? And why are you holding Slash's arm?"

"She totally likes Izzy, dude. I told her that he was here and she dragged me through the streets. We almost got hit by like, 5 cars."

My shocked face slowly twists into a look of confusion as Duff rolls his eyes, pulls out his wallet, and hands Slash a 20 dollar bill.

"Dude, you guys bet on whether I liked Izzy or not?" I was part shocked, part confused, and part mortified that my crush on Izzy was that obvious. Izzy seems like a smart man, so I couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of him knowing and not talking to me because I'm a weird chick who likes him without even knowing anything about him.

"Yeah, and now I'm out 20 bucks because you can't control your goddamn hormones." Duff says in mock frustration. I ignore his joke as the overthinking sets in further.

"Does...does he know?"

"Nah. The man's pretty oblivious, plus he doesn't pay much attention to anything except drugs, work, and music. It's fine." Duff reassures me.

Then Izzy walks in. The three of us get quiet when he shuts the door behind him. He looked at the guys then looks me up and down. He then looks back up at my face like he's done several times before, but this time he doesn't look away when our eyes meet, not immediately, at least. I feel my heart start beating a mile a minute at the momentary eye contact and feel myself longing for it again when it breaks.

He nods his head and walks up the stairs. I guess his first words to me will have to wait another day.

"What does Izzy do for work?" I ask, to no one in particular.

"He's a drug dealer." Duff replies nonchalantly.

I don't know how to respond to that, so I don't. Slash and Duff have their own conversation and I find myself wondering what kind of person Izzy is. I don't know what to think. All I know is he's a damn good musician, an equally gifted writer, and a drug dealer.

Who the hell is Izzy Stradlin?

#guns n' roses #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #axl rose #steven adler #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #slash #slash gnr #saul hudson

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biscuitfam · 5 years ago

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Kiss Me

REQUEST: hello you lovely human! may i request a twelfth doctor x reader in which she's upset about something and the doctor cuddles her even though he hates cuddles? with lots of soft words and kisses akfkskdjdj?? only if that's okay!! - @love-athxna

Hope you enoy athena, you ray of sunsine!

Summary: Touches and kisses have always been traits of the Doctor, until now. Sometimes it’s hers to tell what he’s feeling — especially when it comes to your love for him. His girlfriend.

WC: 1.1k roughly

Warnings: Slight smut??? PG stuff, like heavy make out, but that’s pretty much it.

A/N: God I love writing request fics, like for real, it gives me a lot of inspo. Before I came a fanfic writer I had all these ideas for fics that I wanted to see, but was afraid to ask. I love doing this for others. I do try my hardest to keep the chracters from becoming too OOC though. Please if anyone has a request don’t feel shy, it makes me so happy to see my inbox with you guy’s ideas. PLEASE SEND IN YOUR IDEAS! I��D BE HAPPY TO WRITE THEM!

Also, I may start up my Supernatural blog soon! Check it out at @jackzpizza

Kiss me out of the bearded barley

Nightly, beside the green, green grass

Swing, swing, swing the spinning step

You'll wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

Sometimes, you wondered where the love had gone. You wondered why he stopped touching you, why the kisses drained away, and went into the abyss of nothingness. While the Doctor claimed he hadn’t changed and that this body is still adjusting, quite frankly it seemed like he wasn’t the same man after all.

He felt like a distant stranger.

Close and familiar, but also new and frightening. You never knew what would set him off, and today it was a hug. Today was a rough day as it was the morning you admitted you still had feelings for him, and it did not go as planned. He got rather upset. How could you not love him anymore? He’s the same man to you as he always has been. Just slightly different.

“ You’re just a child. You’re not thinking straight.”

However, telling The Doctor that your feelings are hurt wouldn’t be the best. Putting it lightly, this Doctor wasn’t the most empathetic or understanding of others feelings as his previous faces.

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band, and make the fireflies dance

Silvermoon's sparkling

So kiss me

The tears rolled thickly down your cheeks as you stumbled away from the console room, down the winding corridors, and to the depths of the old girl trying to get as further away from him as possible. Lately, it wasn’t unlike of him to be upset. Or, in other words, irritated. His words were getting harsher. His tones were less love-filled and more defensive. In the distance, you heard his heavy footsteps following behind you.

Possibly it was the old girl who essentially made him chase after you, of course, only after you slammed the door of the TARDIS in his face causing her to let out a huffed groan. She wanted the two of you to make up for the damages done to your relationship. Somewhere along the line of him regenerating now had caused a major dent of imperfection. The difficulty of the situation is pinpointing exactly when everything went up into flames.

When had he fallen out of love with you?

Kiss me down by the broken treehouse

Swing me, upon its hanging tire

Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat

We'll take the trail marked on your father's map

You cried yourself to sleep that night. Tear trails dried to your cheeks and lips crusted dry. Sometimes crying it out is the best solution to a problem, for one, it helps relieve stress. You glanced to the clock perched on your bedside table reading the time back at home. Four in the morning and you’re lying awake dreading facing your boyfriend. Was he still your boyfriend? At this point, you weren't sure if he was anything besides a traveling partner. Before he died and changed into the man you strived to show affection to he was never like this. He would feel beyond guilty. Terribly guilty, possibly to the point of self-loathing.

The first thing you noticed after waking up was the fact you were tucked snuggly into bed underneath the sheets, despite not falling asleep underneath them. Gently you pushed the sheets away and stepped onto the ice-cold floor with bare feet. You made your way to the door and went outside to the isolate halls. In the distance a soft tinkering sounded bringing a sweet comfort of the memories of before. Your fingers shaked lightly as your wrapped the thin, white cotton t-shirt tighter around your body. Nervous habits had always been a downfall of yours, like biting your nails or splitting the ends of your hair. However, never around him, until now.

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band, and make the fireflies dance

Silvermoon's sparkling

So kiss me

The closer you got to the main room of the TARDIS the lights began to dim, and little tea light candles scattered about the hall lit leading a trail. On the stairs and the upper landing portion flower petals of your favorite flower coated the floor. Your heart sped up at the sight and a bright pink blush passed your cheeks. This was extremely out of character for him. Romance tended to be more of his younger selves attitudes. You descended the stairs and stood before the man who scribbled away on the chalkboard seemingly ignoring your presence. He set the chalk down then turned to face you.

“ Humans, they’re so difficult. Needy, demanding, and so sentimental,” He began but stopped when he saw the look in your eyes, then let out a softened sigh as he gently picked up your hands drew you into his chest for a tight, warm hug. With much hestinancy you revipocated the hug and snuggled closer, breathing in the very familiar scent the doctor held despite changing. Cedar wood and rain. Chocolate and coffee. Old books and linen. He smelt of home.

He dipped his head down to face you, bright blue eyes now locked onto yours. “ I know I haven’t been there like I should be. This me isn’t the most romantic man. I’ve become more practical, looking at the bigger picture. I did some research on romance in your century, your decade. I picked your favorite flowers and candles..” He looked around, waving a wrinkled hand at the surroundings while the other rested upon your hip.

“ I just wanted to show you that I do truly love you, and I promise I’ll try harder. Just know I’m bound to slip up at times and say things I don’t mean-” He was rambling at this point, talking more to avoid looking at you. Maybe some things don’t change after all. You cut him off with a firm kiss, fingers bolting up to frame his his cheeks and rounded jaw. At first you expected him to pull away. However, he drew you closer and kept you tight against him with the buttons of his coat digging into your stomach.

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band, and make the fireflies dance

Silvermoon's sparkling

So kiss me

“ I love you, Y/N. I never stopped. I just..I just don’t know how to express it as well as before.” He admitted shamefully with eyes filled with guilt. He dipped his head back down once more for another heated kiss as his hands scrambled to slip off his coat. The tips began to sneak up beneath the hem of your shirt. A small smirk played at the corners of his salmon-colored lips, “ I do admit I had some help from Clara. Smart one, she is.”

“ Of course you did, now bring me to bed.” You laughed gently and took him by the hand leading him down the hall. The two of you went to your shared bedroom hand in hand for a night of love, and much-needed comfort.

Maybe it was worth the wait and the pain inflicted upon your heart, but in the end he was your Doctor and always will be.

So kiss me

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ladyfogg · 4 years ago

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May I? - 23/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @geekygwen

Sharing a space with someone else was a new experience for Data. He had spent hours on end with Faith in the past, however, having her there with him after his shift or on his days off brought a new level of intimacy. His bed was now their bed and his quarters were now their quarters.

Her clothes hung in the closet next to his. He even had set up a terminal for her across the room from his and occasionally they worked together.

The transition did have a few minor inconveniences as sharing a space normally would. However, through communication, the two were able to establish boundaries. For example, Faith would pick up after herself and Data would not rearrange her belongings without asking.

All in all, it was a positive experience.

They had not told many people about the arrangement. Data had improved on keeping the details of their relationship private, limiting any questions to a select number of confidants.

With his and Faith's relationship on solid ground, Data turned his focus to his upcoming art show. The closer the date approached, the more it consumed his thoughts. He found himself having difficulty narrowing down which paintings to showcase as he had painted thousands over the years. Faith helped with the event details themselves, such as food, decorations, etc. It was turning into a wonderful joint effort between the two.

Data sat at his console, running diagnostics while simultaneously organizing his artwork yet again. He heard the door open and glanced up to find Faith entering their quarters.

"Ten Forward is looking great," she said. "Guinan took over decorating and kicked me out." When she saw him at his console, she sighed. "You were there when I left hours ago. Shouldn't you take a break?"

"You are well aware I do not need to rest." Data continued to work. "The show is twenty-two hours away and I have yet to decide on which paintings to display. Aside from the ones involving you, of course."

Faith crossed the room and moved to stand behind him. Her hands ran up his arms to rest on his shoulders. "There is such a thing as over-thinking, babe. You need a distraction."

"There is not much that can consume my thoughts enough to qualify as a distraction."

Data found his console blocked by Faith as she slid her body onto the smooth surface. Her legs moved to trap him between them, forcing Data to look up to meet her eye.

"I can think of one thing," she said with a flirtatious smirk.

Intrigued, Data studied her. "You are attempting to seduce me in order to take my mind off my problem."

"Correct." Faith cupped his face as she leaned forward, eyes shining with excitement. "Also, I believe making love in a work-like setting was on your list. Number thirty-two, right?"

"Thirty-three," Data corrected. "Thirty-two involved the armchair, remember?"

"Mmmm, yes I do."

When she kissed him, Data closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensation. He had grown used to the strange tugging feeling in his stomach when they touched and the way his hands seemed to move on their own accord, coming to rest on Faith's thighs.

Before they could go any further, however, Data found his mind too preoccupied. He drew back and gave her an apologetic smile.

"I am afraid it is not working."

Faith smiled back, running her hand through his hair. "It was worth a try. I figured it would be a long shot. Do you want me to leave so you can keep working?"

"I would rather you stay."

Faith slid off the console and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Whatever you need."

Data returned to work. "I would appreciate your input on the pieces for the show."

"Of course! Did you narrow down which ones you want to focus on?"

"I have settled on one-hundred and twelve possible paintings and combinations."

Faith blanched. "You might want to pair it down a little further."

"I am aware."

"Have you tried laying them out and looking at them?"

"I do not understand how that will help."

Faith smiled at him while she stroked his hair. "I know you have your lists running through that amazing mind of yours, but an art show is about visuals. So, maybe you should choose based on that."

Data had not considered such an approach. "It is worth a try."

He stood and the two of them went into the next room. Every surface aside from the bed had paintings either propped up on or leaning against it. Each time Data thought of a painting, he had taken it out of storage and the result was a room filled with various works of art.

As Faith spread the potential paintings around, Data studied them closely. All he could see were the change in techniques. How his style shifted each time he studied another artist or how the colors changed when he focused on color theory.

Remembering Faith's comment about visuals, he concluded that style and color were not exactly what she had been referring to. So he focused on the subjects instead. Once he began following that train of thought, he started to move the paintings around himself.

Faith stepped back and let him work as he picked up speed. Eighteen minutes later, he stopped, taking a few steps back.

Without realizing it, Data had selected paintings of his friends and family. He stared at the collection of faces, reliving his memories of each one.

In the beginning were Dr. Soong and his wife; his parents whom he had never really gotten to know. There was one of Lore, his brother and rival, yet no less a part of Data than anyone else.

Commander Riker followed, someone who Data looked up to and came to think of as one of his closest friends. Lieutenant Worf, Wesley, Dr. Crusher, were showcased as well. He had learned so much from each of them and cherished their friendships. Guinan and Counselor Troi had been instrumental in his growing relationship with Faith. Their advice and wisdom was something he would always value.

Captain Picard's place among the collection was well-earned. He was not only Data's captain but had advocated for him when no one else would. Without him, Data had no doubt he would not be where he was.

Spot was no less important than anyone else. Through his cat, Data had learned to take care of another being. Geordi was his first and best friend. Data had come to think of him as family and hoped the sentiment was returned.

At first, Data had hesitated to include Tasha due to their intimate history. However, she was and always would be special to him and Faith knew of their past. When he first told her, they spoke for hours about Tasha. Data felt if Tasha were still with them, she and Faith would have been fast friends.

Lal stared up at him from the painting, captured exactly as she had been when she was alive. Data still had her memories and accessed them from time to time. The idea of creating another android child had not left him, though it was a discussion he and Faith would have to have when they were further along in their relationship.

The final paintings were of Faith. The first one of her he had even done, leading up to the stars one he had shared with her weeks ago.

As Data was studying his work, Faith came up next to him and slipped her arms around his waist.

"I love it," she said.

"Does this look visually pleasing?"

"It's more than that. It's beautiful to see all the people who made a difference in your life."

"Then, these are the paintings I will display."

Faith beamed up at him. "I'm so proud of you."

The way her face lit up as she looked at him gave Data that feeling again and he bent his head to kiss her.

"I must go relieve Commander Riker from the bridge, and you must sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day for both of us," Data said.

"Don't remind me. My brain is already spinning with everything that still needs to get done."

"I shall make you your tea before I leave. Do you wish for me to stay until you fall asleep?"

"No, no. I'll be okay. Besides, you have duties to attend to."

Data replicated Faith's evening tea while she changed into her sleep clothes. Once she climbed into bed, Spot slunk out from behind the chair where she had been hiding and took her usual place at Faith’s feet. It pleased Data to see his cat warm up to Faith so much.

"Thank you, babe," Faith said, taking the teacup from him. "If I'm not awake when you get back, feel free to wake me. I have some diagnostics I have to run before preparing for the show."

"Faith, you should set aside downtime for yourself as well. I appreciate all your help but I have noticed you have not properly rested in many weeks."

“What do you mean? I’m sleeping better than I have in years.”

“Sleep is not always the same as resting.”

With a sigh, Faith leaned back against the headboard, hands clutching her steaming mug. "Deanna said the same thing. I agree but I just don't know what I could do to take my mind off things."

"Perhaps we can spend time on the holodeck."

"Yeah but what program? My mind is blank."

"I can create a program for you if you trust me."

Faith smiled softly. "With my life. I'm sure I'll love whatever you come up with."

"Then I shall do so." He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "Goodnight, mi alma."

"Goodnight, babe."

Data began creating said program by the time he left their quarters. He wanted it to be perfect, not just because he cared about Faith but because she had been such a big help with the show.

When he arrived at the bridge, Commander Riker smiled at him. "There he is! How is the planning for the art show going?"

"Very well. Faith helped me decide which artwork to display."

"That girlfriend of yours is a gem." Riker stood to allow Data to take the captain's chair. "You're a lucky man."

"Thank you, Commander. I believe so too. Will you and Counselor Troi be able to attend the show?"

Riker smiled wider and clapped him on the back. "Wouldn't dream of missing it."

As he turned to go, Data realized he would like Riker's advice on helping Faith relax. "Commander, may I ask you a question of a personal nature?"

Riker stopped, his eyebrow quirked in amusement. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

Data stepped closer and lowered his voice to avoid others overhearing. "I have offered to create a holodeck program to help Faith relax. As you are aware, it has been a stressful time for her and she has difficulty resting when she’s not working. What would you suggest?"

"A program is all well and good, Data, but what Faith really needs is shore leave. She needs time off the ship and not spent in a crashed shuttle or being held captive."

"It is difficult enough to convince her to take time off on the Enterprise. It will be a task to get her to leave the ship."

"Well, I assumed you'd go with her. You both have plenty of personal shore leave available and you deserve a romantic vacation."

Data could follow Riker's logic. "That is an interesting idea. I shall work on that for the future as it will take some planning. In the meantime, what would you suggest for a holodeck program?"

"Sunset dinner on the beach," Riker said without hesitation. "Soothing, romantic, and leaves room for a moonlight swim if you catch my drift." He winked.

Data did not but he assumed the commander was referring to something intimate. "I see. Thank you, Commander."

Riker gave him another pat on the back and a smile before he took his leave.

Data had to switch his focus to his duties but kept building Faith's program in the back of his mind. His subroutine had specific perimeters for showing appreciation. He needed to put as much work into thanking Faith as she had put into helping him. He had often heard from his various male colleagues that anticipating their partner’s needs or showing adequate appreciation was difficult in a relationship. Data had thought as much for some time but that was no longer the case. As his and Faith’s relationship progressed, he found it easier to do so. His urge to make sure she was happy and healthy outweighed most anxieties about failing. Most. Not all.

His shift was routine and once it was over and Captain Picard arrived to relieve him, Data returned to his quarters. Faith was still asleep when he returned, which pleased him. True to her earlier statement, she had been sleeping for longer, uninterrupted periods of time which he knew was good for her overall well-being.

As he sat beside her, he admired her relaxed features. He appreciated seeing her void of the anxiety that so often took hold. Sometimes when she thought he was not paying attention, she would let her anxiousness show and her forehead would crease with worry. It was those times that Data was concerned about. With many good things happening around her, it made him curious about what could still be plaguing her ever-working mind. Counselor Troi had explained to him that anxiety and depression did not simply disappear because things were going well. But when Faith slept, Data noticed that was all gone.

He reached out to stroke her wavy hair. A moment later, she stirred, opening her eyes and giving him a sleepy smile. "Good morning." Her voice was soft and hoarse.

"Good morning, Faith. You asked me to wake you when I returned."

She gave a large yawn and a stretch. "I did, didn't I?"

Data could tell sleep was not leaving her as quickly as it usually did. "Perhaps you should remain resting. No one would fault you for taking advantage of the time."

"But, I have diagnostics…"

"Are they urgent? Do Geordi or the captain need them today?"

"Well, no."

"Then go back to sleep." Data readjusted the blanket. "You can run them later."

She pondered his response before giving him a sly smile. “Or you can slide into bed with me and we can make out a little.”

Data was intrigued by her switch in priorities. He had known sex and physical contact could distract humans but it was interesting to witness it firsthand. Faith was quite driven and focused when it came to her work, but it seemed the thought of being sexual with Data was enough to change her mind about continuing her rest.

He saw no reason to deny her request and found the idea acceptable. He stepped out of his shoes before sliding into bed with her. Once settled, he pulled her close. When their lips met, she no longer had any traces of sleep. Her body curled around his, her hands clinging to the front of his uniform. Per his program, his eyes closed while he kissed her and he focused on using his other senses. Her smell invaded his nostrils and the way her mouth moved against his activated his sexuality program. However, since Faith had not specified whether or not she wished to engage in intercourse, he shut the program down.

“I love kissing you,” Faith mumbled, her sleep-addled brain making her more vocal about her feelings than she normally would be so early in the morning. “I can kiss you for hours.”

“While physically I will be able to do so, I do not believe you will.”

She chuckled, peppering his lips with kisses. “I can try.”

Data knew she was being facetious so he let the comment go without discussing exactly why that would not be advisable. He cupped her cheek and kissed her deeply, the way he knew she liked. At least, he concluded she appreciated such action. Her pulse tended to race faster and she often let out a small noise of appreciation.

The results were instantaneous. Faith clung to Data even tighter, throwing her leg over his hip. He may have shut down his sexuality program a bit prematurely…

Before they continued, however, Data wished to discuss with her the idea of taking shore leave. Since she was so obviously relaxed, he thought she may be more agreeable to the idea in such a state.

“Faith,” Data said in a hushed voice when she pulled away to catch her breath. “May I ask you a question?”

“Now?” Her response was not said with any annoyance or malice. It was more of a whine as she attempted to kiss him again.

Data gently stopped her. “I realize my timing may interrupt our current intimate session, however, I promise it is relevant.”

“I was only teasing, Data. Of course you can ask your question. What’s on your mind?”

“While our duties on the Enterprise do not allow us to indulge in such intimate activities on a regular basis, I was wondering how you would feel about taking shore leave with me sometime in the near future.”

Faith pulled back to look him in the eye. “You want to take a vacation with me?”

“Is that not an activity most couples participate in?”

“It is. I’ve just never been on vacation with someone I’m dating. And the thought of taking shore leave always makes me feel so guilty. I mean, the Enterprise—”

“Can function without us for several days. It has done so numerous times in the past when neither of us was on board.”

She pursed her lips as she usually did when Data made a valid point. He allowed her to take her time answering, not wishing to rush the process or put pressure on her answer. “I’ll definitely consider it,” she concluded after a time. “It’s not that I wouldn’t love to have several long uninterrupted days with you in a comfy bed somewhere tropical. It’s just…” She trailed off.

“Is your anxiety a factor?”

Faith nodded. “I tried taking shore leave when I first joined Starfleet and for some reason, I could never relax enough to enjoy it. The guilt of being off having fun while my colleagues worked just felt wrong. it was always difficult to turn my brain off.”

“I do not believe humans can do such a thing. It is my understanding, that would be fatal.”

Faith chuckled, stroking his cheek. “Not literally. Figuratively,” she explained. “What I mean is, when I’m on vacation, I can’t help but worry about all the stuff I should be doing on the ship. What I could be helping with. It got to the point where shore leave made me more stressed than staying on board. So I stopped taking it.”

“Perhaps with me accompanying you, that can change,” Data suggested. “You do tend to lose track of time when we are in bed together.”

She gave him a sly smile as she drew closer once more. “Are you saying that I’ll be so distracted by your sexual prowess that I’ll forget all about the Enterprise?”

“When you phrase it that way, it does seem as though I was boasting,” Data realized. “I can assure you, that was not my intention.”

Faith chuckled and gave him a small peck on the lips. “I will take shore leave with you, but I’ll need some time in advance to get used to the idea. Is that okay?”

“I only wish for you to be comfortable and happy.”

“If you want me to be happy, kiss me again.”

Data obliged.

They did not spend much longer in bed as there were still many preparations to complete before the art show. Hours later, after Faith assisted Data with carefully packing his paintings and transporting them to Ten Forward, she stepped away to get herself ready for the show. Data did not know what she meant but was unconcerned. He set about putting the paintings on display himself, readjusting them to account for the flow of the room or certain lighting. Data had just put the finishing touches on his work when Guinan approached him.

“These look wonderful, Data,” she said with a proud smile. “Everyone is going to love them.”

“Thank you, Guinan. And may I say, you and Faith did a wonderful job with the decorations.”

Ten Forward had been transformed into an elegant art gallery. Faith had insisted on having what she called “finger foods” and various kinds of synthehol, all for the guests to graze at their leisure.

Guinan looked around. “This was mostly Faith. She was adamant about making sure your art show was ‘perfect’. Her word, not mine. Said she even researched what other art shows look like. She really cares about you, Data.”

“That is good to know. She is special to me as well.”

“It’s more than that,” Guinan said, linking her arm with his. “Her feelings for you run deep. And while I know you are just developing feelings yourself, I want you to know how serious she regards her relationship with you.”

The tone of her voice led Data to believe her intentions were serious. He had known Guinan for some time and she would not make such a statement for no reason.

“I appreciate your concern,” Data said. “But you need not worry. I am serious about our relationship as well. In fact, Faith and I have been sharing quarters for some weeks now.”

Guinan actually looked surprised. “Really?”

Data nodded. “We did not want to tell many people as Faith values her privacy. I am learning to appreciate it as well. I am also eager to continue this relationship with Faith. She is…” He could not find a word sufficient enough to describe exactly what Faith was to him.

Thankfully, Guinan did not need him to finish his thought. She patted his hand, her smile widening. “I understand, Data. You better get ready. Your guests are going to be here shortly.”

There was not much left to do so Data took the time to do one more walk around the room, making sure his paintings were in the exact position to give them the best appearance. Eventually, Guinan opened the doors to Ten Forward, and Data’s friends and colleagues began to arrive.

To his surprise, a large number of people began to file in. He imagined if he was capable of feeling nerves, he would certainly be feeling so. Having others experience his creative endeavors tended to heighten his senses to a degree. He found himself focusing on their expressions and stances, trying to decipher what they thought of his work.

Geordi was among the first group of people to arrive. Data watched him walk through the show, admiring each of the paintings for a significant amount of time before approaching Data to congratulate him.

“Data, this is spectacular,” he said, giving his friend a smile. “I’m really proud of you, buddy.”

“Thank you, Geordi. I hope you do not mind that I included a painting of you in the show.”

“Not at all. I’m honored and touched. I think these are some of your finest work.” Geordi looked around. “Where’s Faith?”

“I do not know,” Data admitted. “She helped me bring the paintings down and then said she had to go get…” He spotted her the moment she walked in and almost lost his train of thought. “...ready.”

Faith looked stunning. She was not dressed in her Starfleet uniform or formalwear. She had opted for a dark blue sleeveless dress that hugged her curved frame. While the front did not dip as low as the dress Fajo forced her to wear, it still accentuated her breasts. When she turned to greet Counselor Troi, Data noticed the back of the dress dipped provocatively, stopping just above her lower back. The skirt of it folded around her long legs when she walked, occasionally showing off a smooth leg through a slit in the side. Her hair was pinned up in a simple style which highlighted her natural waves.

She was a vision of pure beauty.

Geordi followed Data’s gaze and smirked. “I’ll leave you to it,” he told his friend, before disappearing into the crowd.

Data did not notice him leave.

Faith caught Data staring and gave him a shy smile as she crossed the room to him. “Sorry I took so long,” she said, fidgeting with the dress. “I wanted to try something new and had to work up the nerve to actually leave our quarters.”

“Faith…” Data was speechless which was a strange feeling for him. “You look beautiful. I am honored you dressed so…” His eyes scanned her frame once more. “...exquisitely for my art show.”

“Well, it was more for you than the show.” She slipped her arm around his and smiled. “Shall we mingle then? Everyone seems so excited.”

Data had to admit, he found it difficult to focus on anything else with Faith on his arm. He found his gaze constantly drawn to the stray curl around her ear or the way the dress draped over her backside. Thankfully, she was more focused than he was and was able to draw his attention to those who were speaking to them. The compliments on his paintings came one after another. Person after person approached them to congratulate him on his work. His friends were each thrilled to be included.

At one point during the evening, when Faith was engaged in conversation with Beverly, Data slipped away from her to approach Captain Picard. He had seen the captain enter Ten Forward some time ago but had been reluctant to engage with him until he had time to study the paintings.

“Hello, Captain,” Data said, coming to stand by his commanding officer. “Thank you for taking the time to come to my show.”

“Data, I have to admit, I didn’t know what to expect when you told me you were putting together an art show,” Picard said. “This is wonderful. Seeing all of us depicted by your own hand is very moving.” They walked down the line together and Picard smiled at the image of him. “I will say, you could have at least made me look a tiny bit younger.”

Data recognized the light tone of Picard’s voice as a teasing one. “I shall keep that in mind for the future.”

At the painting of Tasha, Picard paused. Data recognized the sadness in his eyes. He often wondered how the Captain handled so many losses under his command. In the past, Data himself lacked the emotion to really dwell on such matters. But when Tasha died, that had changed. And now that he was with Faith, he could not imagine losing her in the same manner. It was a scenario he did not entertain.

When they reached Faith’s paintings, Picard’s demeanor changed to a lighter one. He gave Data a look out of the corner of his eye, his eyebrow cocked in amusement. “You and Ms. Diaz certainly have come a long way in such a short time.”

“Sir, do you think our relationship has progressed too quickly?” Data asked. “I had my concerns about such a thing but was assured we should move at our own pace.”

“Mr. Data,” Picard said, giving the android his full attention. “I may not know a lot on the subject but I do know this: love is love. It is going to happen whether we wait or jump right in. I envy you, Mr. Data. What you and Ms. Diaz have is special.”

“You are not the first person to tell me such a thing.”

“That’s because it’s true. We can all see it. And we’re all happy for you.” He gave Data’s shoulder a brief squeeze before pulling away. “Now, tell me about this one here…”

By the time the last of the guests left Ten Forward, Data was ready to retire to his quarters. He imagined he was as close to tired as an android could be. Talking to so many people in such a short time was a lot. But there was another reason he was eager to leave. The entire evening he had been watching Faith and planning how to show her his appreciation for everything she had done for him. Guinan offered to clean up and all but shooed Faith and Data from the room.

“That was wonderful!” Faith gushed as they stepped onto the turbo-lift. “Everyone loved your work. It was a magical evening. Some people even want to know when the next one will be. I don’t think I have the energy to even think about that let alone—”

Data silenced her with a deep kiss. Faith let out a noise of surprise, almost stumbling from the force of it until Data’s strong arm looped around her waist to catch her. He was overcome by a strange sensation pulsing through his body. When her mouth opened in surprise, he immediately slid his tongue past her lips. He could not understand it or contain it, causing him to kiss her with almost bruising force. Thankfully, he caught himself before he could accidentally hurt her.

When he drew back, she was panting, her brown eyes wide. “Where did that come from?” she asked, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

Data’s eyes followed the movement. “I do not know. But I have been wanting to do that since the moment you stepped into Ten Forward.”

Faith smirked, slipping her arms around his neck. “Oh really? What else have you been wanting to do?”

The doors to the turbo-lift open and without warning, Data scooped her into his arms, making her squeal in surprise. "Data!"

He wanted to experience her sexually. Their intimate moments had become a comfortable and enjoyable part of their relationship which he looked forward to. It was not only because of the feelings that emerged during their time together but because of the closeness it provided.

Faith had shared a similar sentiment with him so he knew the feeling was mutual.

Feeling. It was strange for Data to use the term so frequently. Desire and happiness were the emotions he associated most with Faith. When they were engaged in intercourse, most of his background processes were shut down or filed away for later.

As he carried her down the hallway towards their quarters, his hand found a slit in her dress, coming to rest on her thigh. He touched the warmth and smoothness, wondering if it would feel different if his hands had human nerves.

Would his skin goose pimple like hers did? If he had a heart, would it race? He noticed her pupils dilated when she was aroused so he had adjusted his sexuality program to do the same when they were intimate. Faith had not mentioned it but he noticed she seemed to smile wider when it happened. Even then he saw it happen right before his very eyes.

“Faith,” he said as they approached their door. “May I make love to you again?”

“I want you to do more than that, Data,” Faith told him, her voice dropping into the low register she only used when they were intimate. “I can tell you’re feeling something and I want you to give into it. Don’t think. Don’t analyze. Just feel.”

The doors opened and Data carried Faith over the threshold. “I could not stop this feeling even if I tried.”

#commander data #lt commander data #data tng #Data Soong #star trek next generation

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alto-angel · 4 years ago

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in this post, i would like to present my thesis on why the song metaphor by the crane wives belongs to goro akechi.

"i've gotten good at leaning on metaphors": goro's speech as the detective prince is very flowery, exaggerated, and calculated, in order to please the crowds of people with their eyes trained on him at all times. public appearances, television shows, and interviews are all very important for his image, and as such he's forced to adapt his speech and choose his wording carefully to appease those watching. robbie daymond especially does a very good job of vocally pushing the line of politeness into a tone that sounds just a bit too sugary to be genuine, but not something u would notice unless u were listening closely.

"i've gotten good at living on someone else's page": much like the first line, this one can also refer to goro's public image. because he's put an immense amount of work into his life as the detective prince, he aims to please. or at least, he needs to act as though he does. in order to keep up appearances, he needs to be able to get a read of those around him and keep himself on the same wavelength as them. this also applies to shido—not only does goro need to please his fans, but shido as well, in order to stay one step ahead of him. goro is purposefully putting himself on eggshells every day of his life, and in order to keep that up as well as keep himself safe, this is what he has to practice.

"i cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments": goro is often forced to follow a script, or at least an embellished, public-friendly version of his own thoughts. the things that he says when acting as the detective prince are rarely ever his own thoughts as they would be presented in normal conversation. goro has to hide his true opinion of the phantom thieves behind crowd pleasing buzzwords, keep up appearances by catering his opinions, and even quotes philosophers and other literature ("to paraphrase hegel"). the things that he says as detective prince goro akechi are rarely ever entirely his own, and he's gotten very good at tailoring his speech.

"you can't trust a single thing i say": this one, i think, is fairly self-explanatory. the "you" doesn't just apply to the phantom thieves, but to those goro works with as well. what is it he says to sae; "to trick your enemies, you must first trick your allies"? he uses deception to get what he wants, but his primary motivation for it is to move his plan forward, and to protect himself. obviously, if he were honest with shido, he would've been killed on the spot. goro's proficiency with lies isn't just a tool he uses, but a defense mechanism as well. bc of his fear of and difficulty grasping the concept of opening up to someone, through that skill, he is able to keep himself closed off and in control (that is, until he meets akira).

"i keep my closet free of skeletons": this one strikes me as irony, personally. goro's closet is so full of skeletons that it's practically bursting at the seams. but as the detective prince, something like that just isn't allowed. he needs to play the part, otherwise he pays the price. as himself, as goro akechi, he's got so many skeletons in his closet that he probably can't open the door anymore. but as the detective prince, he has to uphold an air of perfection that seems unattainable to others. goro as the detective prince is the epitome of the culture behind the idolization of celebrities, and the way others place and expect them on pedestals of something near godhood, far above the rest of the world.

"cause i'm much better at digging graves": well, goro akechi is certainly no stranger to the art of killing someone without a trace. we have no idea how many shutdowns or breakdowns he induced over the course of his professional relationship with shido. but i also think this lyric in tandem with the one right before it could relate to goro's tendencies towards repression; the idea that he cannot and should not have any "demons" or "skeletons"—such as past traumas, meaningful relationships, or feelings that he's jammed down and shut the closet doors on, if u will—bc since vengeance is his only objective, then digging graves is his primary task, or the only thing he's good for, in his mind. the word skeletons doesn't have to represent mistakes specifically, but could also refer to how goro views his own heart and how he deals with his emotions. something like, he feels he shouldn't deal with all that turbulence, bc he's far better at warping it into anger—something that he's used to dealing with, and can easily rationalize. the more complicated emotions, not so much.

"but i always dig up bones in your sympathy": this is where i start connecting things to goro and akira specifically. another definition of sympathy entails two people who share an understanding of each other. doesn't that sound like goro and akira to u? so, if u take these lyrics to be from goro to akira, it feels to me like this one could represent his regrets/desire to leave his situation. according to rank seven of his confidant in royal, we know that goro is practically screaming for help before the events of sae's palace. unfortunately, as the player, we are not able to save him. but i think this lyric could represent his desire to connect with akira despite his better judgement—"dig up bones," as in; i'll still arrive at the decision to bury them in the first place, but bc we have an understanding, i'll show u as well as i can that i do not want to be doing this. and that's exactly how rank seven with goro plays out, through the metaphor of a billiards game.

"i can't trust a single thing you say": this could refer to the fact that both goro and akira are withholding truths from each other throughout their relationship, and since they are of equal standing, the same deception that applies to goro would apply to akira as well, albiet in a far different way. however, i can also see it as an unwillingness on goro's part; he feels as though he cannot trust akira not bc akira is truly lying to him, but bc there's no other way for him to rationalize the fact that akira cares for him and wants to spend time with him. as goro akechi, not the detective prince. goro can't trust the kindness akira extends to him not only bc he's used to conditional love (shido, foster parents, etc.), but also bc he doesn't feel as though he deserves it. goro does not have a very high image of himself, as we see later on, and it's easy to see throughout his confidant that he cannot quite understand why someone would want to spend time with him, and not the perfectly crafted version of him that he presents to everyone else.

"don't look too hard, cause you won't like the scars he left in me": the "he" here refers to shido. shido is the sole reason for all of goro's trauma and hardships. he has scarred goro more than anyone else in his life. and goro's sharing of these traumas is very limited: he opens up seemingly out of nowhere, before immediately retreating under the guise of things like "oh, that isn't like me," or "oh, am i bothering u?" such as the scenes that take place in leblanc and the bathhouse. goro cannot fathom the fact that someone (akira) would wish to get to know him, as he is, so he assumes that a normal interaction between friends is somehow too much transparency, and keeps himself at a distance. he mistakes his feelings for akira as hatred, right? obviously, that's entirely the wrong word to describe them. but if goro himself believes that he hates akira, he would likely believe akira to hate him as well; as evidenced by the fact that the dialogue options which give u the most points are the ones where u mention ur "rivalry"—bc again, goro cannot rationalize his emotions as anything other than negative; anger, hatred, etc. it's far easier for goro to blurt out the words "i hate u" rather than "i love u," or "i care for u," isn't it? and this is how he keeps himself at enough of a distance, although simultaneously feels himself drawing closer. emotional closeness is not something goro is well versed in, and bc goro has built his image on being talented and skilled, he refuses to reveal his shortcomings.

"i've gotten good at making up metaphors": the words here are only slightly different than the ones at the beginning, which i think works for goro's further descent into his deal with shido, and subsequent difficulty. instead of "leaning" on metaphors, he's completely making them up. it's more drastic, which could represent a sort of desperation. almost as if he's losing his touch—which we do see after the events of sae's palace, during the tv interview where he monologues internally about his backstory, and we start to really see how damaged he is. goro is frazzled and distraught, enough for it to visibly show, something he prided himself on being able to avoid.

"i've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape": again, the same situation as before. similar to the beginning, with slightly harsher wording. the lies that goro is immersing himself in are getting more intense, and almost impossible to separate from. his "murder" of akira is a turning point, in a way; akira is the first and only character we see goro kill in what he believes to be outside of the metaverse. he's not only stretching the truth out of shape, but he himself is bent out of shape as well—this stuck out to me on my ng+ run; his sprites in the scene just after akira is reported to be dead from him to shido are very unsettling and absent, as if he's almost completely zoning out. it's a very jarring scene to watch, and i think at least part of that has to be due to the severity of his actions.

"and all these words are sweet and meaningless": this feels to me, if we're going by the timeline i've been suggesting throughout all this, like it's directed at shido. now that akira is dead and the phantom thieves are no longer a threat to goro's plan for revenge, he can focus his energy back on his original objective. goro lays it on incredibly thick in his scenes with shido, so much so that it sometime surprises me that he didn't realize shido was onto him. again with the more intense wording here, which fits with the events i'm corresponding it with.

"you can't trust a single thing i say": now this wording is exactly the same as the first time, but given the progression of everything i've talked about, i take this as a sort of last word to both shido and akira. goro intends to follow through with his vengeance no matter the cost, and this could read as a final nail in that coffin. the song repeats this lyric four times, as well. if i wanted to keep it up all the way up to the engine room scene, and go completely off the rails in the process, i could say that the first iteration of this line is an affirmation to both shido and akira that his revenge takes precedence, therefore it would be stupid to trust him. the second is an affirmation to himself that he is in fact doing the right thing, and everything will pay off in the end, that this is just the way things are supposed to be, as always. the third is a kind of plea, born from confusion, after he's defeated by the theives and they offer to bring him with them to take down shido, an offer he cannot fathom the reason for extending. a sort of "why would u trust me" in the form of "u shouldn't trust me." and the fourth would refer directly to goro speaking to his cognitive self; as he decieves the deciever, making it seem as though he is running back to shido only to close the bulkhead door and resign himself to his "noble" sacrifice.

i hope at least some of this makes any semblance of sense. put this song on ur goro playlists, goroboys.

#persona #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5 #p5r #goro akechi #character analysis

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loquaciousquark · 5 years ago

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Cut for talk of COVID and irresponsible failure to social distance (my own). Also, some updates on what’s been going on here for the last month or so.

part one:

Very very long story that I am truncating as much as possible. As you all know, I am an optometrist and professor. When we shut down in March, our university made a huge, painful shift to remote learning and our student clinic ceased operations altogether. Neither students nor faculty saw patients from March 15 - the the middle of May. At the end of May, faculty began seeing patients directly in an extremely reduced schedule, and at the beginning of June, we began adding in very limited numbers of students in a rolling schedule that minimized exposure to all involved.

Three weeks ago, my dear friend Jasper contacted me and said that an old friend of hers, whom I will call Carol, was in dire straits after losing her job overseas. Carol has an extremely rocky history: a terrible car accident that left her legs and feet permanently damaged which directly led to a very bad divorce, significant student loan debt (just shy of six digits I think, compounded from the accident, since she used her student loans to pay her medical bills--for anyone reading this, do not EVER EVER EVER DO THIS--student loans are never touched by bankruptcy declarations and you will owe them until you die), and something of an inability to put down roots. She is an English teacher who has taught and traveled all over the world: Prague, Bahrain, Czech Republic, Los Angeles, Rio, etc.

When I first met her about ten years ago, she had come back to Alabama from Prague because a job had fallen through. She was completely broke and living out of two suitcases and a carry-on. She lived with us for three months for free, sleeping in Jasper’s bed because we had no other room for her, and eventually got a job in Boston and moved on. She lasted--I think--about two months in Boston before quitting and taking a job in the Middle East.

On top of her student loan debt, Carol also has significant IRS debt and is in debt to several of her friends. Over the last few years, she took several ill-advised positions overseas back to back without ever consulting a lawyer on her contracts, and did not realize until recently that one of her positions classified her as an independent contractor instead of an employee, so she owed US taxes on all her income for that period of time. Her most recent job in Prague she lost in February because she filed her visa (again, without a lawyer) incorrectly, and what should have been a brief three-week stay outside of the country became a six week stay on the couch of strangers in the Czech Republic while she waited for her visa reapplication to process. However, it was denied, and then COVID hit, and she returned to Alabama with only a portion of her possessions and tons of important paperwork left behind in her Prague apartment. She then unfortunately had two emergency surgeries on her stomach for an acute, unpredictable medical issue, and while she is well healing now, it also added on another forty thousand dollars of medical debt to what she already owed.

She stayed with her mother and sister while she was recovering from the emergency surgeries, but her family is emotionally abusive and very unkind to her, and after a few weeks she left their home and went to stay with Jasper. However, Jasper is also 8 months pregnant with her fourth child, and they both knew it was a temporary thing. Jasper knows that I have a large home with several spare bedrooms, and asked if I would be willing to host Carol for a period of time while she got back on her feet. I knew what I was agreeing to when I said yes, and Carol and I settled on a period of two months. She has now been here almost three weeks.

Frankly, I do not like Carol very much. We are unbelievably different people in every way--personality, temperament, proclivity to crying in front of other people, hobbies, interests, religion, all of it. She is a very nice person, and I think she truly does mean well. But she is the most emotionally needy and energy-sapping person I have ever met, and I cannot tolerate her company in more than small chunks. It is not possible to hold a conversation with her about any subject tangentially related to her difficulties; if I try to sympathize with her loans by mentioning my own, she shuts me down by saying at least I will have the chance to ever pay them back. If I just try to listen without commentary, she’ll wrap herself up in her own stories and talk for hours without ever needing more than “mm”s and “hm”s and my undivided attention the entire time.

She will often work herself up into sobbing tears over her situation(s), and she always informs me immediately of any new development in any of her numerous trials: which are usually negative, considering the situation, and usually resulting in more tears. She has cried on me probably more than a dozen times since she moved in, and she wields “I love you” like a weapon, more to hear the validation of the response than to truly express the sentiment. She constantly asks for advice on her situation but does not listen to any of it--seems more to just want to relive each tragic detail of her life over and over again with an audience, wondering why she’s continually “screwed over in her life.” (Really, really poor financial decisions and constantly trusting her own “intuition” over getting competent legal advice before signing contracts, are I think the biggest contributors.) She has told me so many private details about her personal views, relationships with her ex-husband and mother and sister, her financial choices, and her extensive travel and job history over the last few years that I probably know her history better than my own at this point.

I think she thinks by sharing so much that she is justifying to me her need to stay with me. What is actually happening is that I am forced to help shoulder this enormous emotional load that compounds my own mental health problems I’ve been having since all this started. I have told her more than once that she does not need to justify herself to me and that my home is open to her for two months, no strings attached. I believe she is making all the steps she needs to and do not need reports on her daily activities to “pay” for her lodging or electricity or internet or whatever. This has changed the behavior a little for the better but not stopped it.

There are moments that are not bad. As I have mentioned, she does mean well and want well for most people. She likes Hamlet and loves Jasper, who is extremely important to me. But she is extremely difficult to be around in so many other ways, and the way she constantly exclaims over how we basically think alike on all things (absolutely untrue) makes me think she either will not or cannot read my reluctance to engage on any of these topics.

(An example: I was watching footage of the SpaceX launch and despite my feelings on Elon Musk, really excited about the implications for space travel. She came in, and after misunderstanding for some time that I was not watching Space Force with Steve Carell, decided that the SpaceX program was morally bankrupt, obviously borne of shady backroom government deals, and everyone involved should have used the money to solve world hunger instead. For the record, she had not heard of the shuttle launch, SpaceX, or Elon Musk at all before the seeing the footage.)

(She also until last week had not heard of Playstation, Xbox, streaming as a concept, or any game more modern than the original Mario. Trying to order a grocery delivery online was an excruciating torment for her [took her over four days to get through selecting the items, selecting allowable replacements, and actually paying] and I will not ask her to do it again. She frequently makes comments about video games being a waste of time, and when she sees children playing outside, comments on how glad she is they are not inside playing video games. She doesn’t seem to realize her comments are a direct commentary on me; I think she genuinely does not understand that those games are what I am playing most of my free time.)

Right now, everything seems to hinge on her passing some teacher recertification tests next week and the week after. She spent $150 to give herself less than a week to study from scratch for a test she described as the hardest she’d ever taken. There were several other dates later in the summer she could have chosen, and her deadline is December, but she picked the soonest option for reasons I can’t fathom. She is also in the process of trying to get a car--right now I’m driving her everywhere--and she was ready to hand over $3800 yesterday for a ten-year-old Hyundai with a check-engine light on without even thinking of getting any kind of inspection. She is far more concerned with the color and “energy” of the car than its function, and would not have even checked the headlights and blinkers if I hadn’t prompted it.

She will be here another five weeks or so. We move around each other now better than we did before, and I hope it will continue to improve. But it’s a lot like a rock grinding a groove in the streambed from the repetitive friction, and it’s not the struggle I wanted to be having right now.

part two:

As I mentioned above, Jasper is having her fourth child in a month or so. One of her friends, someone I don’t know, contacted me and said she wanted to do a drive-by “baby sprinkle,” where no one gets out of their cars. You drop off the gifts, talk to the recipient a few minutes from the car window, and move on. I told her that I work in health care and am exposed to patients, so that sounded good to me.

The shower was this morning. Carol and I got up and drove the thirty minutes to Jasper’s house. There were four other families in cars right around the corner, and the “hostess” gave us all balloons to tie on our side mirrors. She told us we would drive around the corner, drop off the gifts, and loop around. Jasper’s husband would arrange for her to be in the front yard at the right time.

Cute enough. We go around the corner with little honks and Jasper sees us and starts crying, and it’s all wonderful and emotional and a fabulous surprise and I’m genuinely excited about it. And then people start parking and getting out of their cars, and Carol and I start looking at each other. They’re full families, too--three of the other moms brought all their kids, and soon enough they’re playing with Jasper’s three boys in the front yard and coming up asking to pet Hamlet through the car window. No one was wearing masks.

And what’s worse, when they all started looking at us expectantly through the car window, we didn’t know what to do. They were handing Jasper her gifts and obviously settling in for a good long chat; the women were hugging, talking about how they are “so over this COVID stuff, please come visit soon,” and Hamlet of course recognizes his original owners in Jasper and her husband so he’s freaking out, and after a few moments, we decided to just get out of the car.

It was the first time I really felt the social pressure to participate in an event I wasn’t comfortable with. I have no issue maintaining my social distance and my mask and my handwashing at work because that is where I have the position of authority, and I have the responsibility to model it for the students and patients--but here, I was a guest at someone else’s house at someone else’s event, and I really, really felt how they might perceive me as rude. While I didn’t know the other women, my relationship with Jasper is extremely important to me, and I didn’t want to make this special event for her difficult in any way.

So we got out of the car and joined the group. I tried to keep my distance as much as possible, especially since I had Hamlet on the leash and there were a half-dozen small children around, but at least twice I looked up and there was someone right at my elbow, and we made small talk for five minutes or so before either she drifted back to the group or I moved Hamlet into the shade away from the rest.

Cars drove by and slowed down more than once to look at us. Jasper’s husband made a comment about rolling his eyes if he saw their family on Facebook that evening. The women planned play dates, all standing very close together, and Jasper opened her gifts (that part was excellent). All in all we were probably there about twenty minutes.

I should mention that on the drive there, we passed a public park that has a very pretty waterfall right next to the road, and there were probably a dozen families out playing. There was a festival/outdoor market right outside the the park that had a sign up about social distancing, but the fifty or so people we saw shopping there were not adhering in any meaningful way. No one wore a mask.

And what annoys the bejeezus out of me is that I didn’t either. I didn’t even think about it until after we finally got back in the car to drive away. This is the first social event I’ve gone to since the first week of March, and while I wear masks for eight+ hours every day I go in to work, it didn’t occur to me even a single time to put on even my little cloth one that I keep in the car until we were driving away afterwards. I was so flummoxed by every little thing happening differently than I expected--people getting out of cars, how surprised I was by my own susceptibility to not rocking the boat, how normal everyone else made it to stand so close they could bump elbows so that Carol and I became almost excluded from the circle--that it never once crossed my mind. I know masks are more for the protection of those around you, not to keep you from catching what other people are carrying, but I could have set an example. I could have been the health professional I should have been in the moment.

I’m just so disappointed in myself. Disappointed in my own carelessness, irritated that I didn’t say anything, continually frustrated in a deep, gut-wrenching way by the whole situation that requires this in the first place. Bewildered that so many people are “back to normal” while this thing is still spreading, and in brutal honesty wishing I could be like them and just give up the fight myself. I’m not even mad at them. I WANT TO BE THEM. Why am I continually bothering to care and sanitize and mask and stay at home when no one else is? Literally no one would judge me in this state for it more than I’m already being judged (in most cases impersonally, though I felt the potential for it today in specific) for still watching the recommended guidelines.

I am really, really sick of this. I am so sick of feeling alone in this (of being alone in this, and Carol doesn’t count). Hearing other people saying “there there, you’re doing the right thing” honestly makes it even worse. I want people to stop patronizingly telling me to do things I already know are the right thing to do. I want other people as mad as I am that I can’t do the things I want to and need to do instead of being endlessly patient and noble about all the lives they’re saving by staying home. I’m top-of-my-head-blowing-off furious that so many people are shrugging and saying “well this is just the way it will be forever and alas, so it goes” and acting like those of us who did the right thing and cancelled our plans and our trips and our visits to dear friends but who are mad about having to do it are overreacting. I’m so fucking mad about it. I’ve stayed home for two months and I’ve isolated and I’ve quarantined and my hands are cracking from the constant sanitizer/washing at work and except for today I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do for this, and I don’t want to do it. And seeing people be so heroically virtuous and longsuffering on Facebook feels as alien and upsetting to me as the people who go to the beaches with a hundred of their closest friends.

That’s probably unfair in myriad ways. I’m really too angry, including at myelf, to soften it right now.

I want a vaccine and I want to be back in my classroom teaching to fifty faces instead of a screen in my living room, and I’m honestly freaking sick of waiting at home for them to figure this out. And watching everyone else move on with their lives back to the normal I would kill to have is just one more crack in the dike.

#quark rambles #this got really personal and mad #so sorry about that #coronavirus for ts #covid-19 for ts #quarantine for ts #carol #jasper #long post for ts

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raendown · 4 years ago

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A gift to @sakxuraz for the @tobiizugiftexchange, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: IzunaTobirama Word count: 4398 Rated: T+ Summary: Building a village with other clan-packs wasn't a terrible idea in theory. In practice it opened the door for all sorts of miscommunication as they all navigated the difficulties of integrating not only as humans but in their secondary animal forms as well. What does a cat know of birds? More importantly, what is he willing to learn?

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A Word For Home

Coming from a clan more disposed to mammalian second forms, living with a bunch of birds was strange in many ways. Tobirama was more than used to seeing family and close friends groom each other but the ways in which Uchiha showed their affections seemed incredibly odd in his eyes. So odd that in many cases he wasn’t actually aware what the purpose of such gestures were supposed to be until he was informed so later on.

The first time Izuna brought him a handful of leaves he could only stare, mind racing as he tried to figure out what sort of insult was being offered to him. Each leaf was a different shade and all of them newly shed by autumn trees. After a full minute of silence he looked up to see the other man watching him intently with his dark eyes wide in anticipation, waiting for some sort of reaction, and Tobirama hoped his utter lack of any expression was as disappointing as he was sure his rage was meant to be amusing.

“I have plenty of leaves in my own front lawn,” he rumbled. Then he had turned to sweep away, missing the dejected slump of Izuna’s shoulders before there came the rushing pull of a change. Even without looking he knew the sound of strong wings hurrying away. When he dared to look back the leaves were arranged carefully on the ground in some unrecognizable pattern. He left them there.

An isolated incident like that could have easily been forgotten, written off as nothing more than yet another attempt to annoy him over petty grudges, if it hadn’t been the beginning of an utterly strange trend. The second time Izuna approached him the man came bearing an armful of cloth all with different brightly colored patterns. At first glance Tobirama thought it to be a small mountain of clothing but a closer look told him the bundle wasn’t even that much, just scraps of varying sizes all piled on top of each other. They were at least neatly folded. Still, he might have no idea what insult the man was trying to imply but he had more important things to do than to indulge his rival’s pointless games.

“There is a laundromat just down this street if you were looking for somewhere to clean your rags,” he advised stiffly.

“Rags?” Somehow Izuna managed to insert such a heavy amount of dejection in to his tone that for a moment Tobirama almost thought him genuinely saddened by the denial. Then he came to his senses.

“Fly away, little raven, I have things that need to be done today.”

With that he brushed past and paid no attention to the trill that followed him down the path. His mind was already full of the blueprints he and a team of Nara had been working on for the new hospital.

After that it seemed as though he ran in to Izuna around every other corner and every time he found something being presented to him as though it were some great treasure. Yet without fail each so-called gift turned out to be nothing more than scrap and chaff, never anything of value but neither could Tobirama make heads or tails of what this game was meant to be. He would have asked if it wouldn't have felt so much like losing.

In his office Izuna brought him a spool of wire. On his front porch was left a basket of untreated wool. Turning corners in the marketplace he found his hands full of old blankets that had clearly seen their share of use. For the life of him he couldn’t seem to connect any of these offerings together. With every new piece of junk in Izuna’s hands Tobirama only grew more and more confused. The two of them were no longer enemies by any stretch, not since their clans had formed a pact to share the same territory several years before, and although they weren’t exactly the best of friends they had managed to achieve a unique sort of equilibrium that worked for them. Casually sniping each other with pointed - if dull - insults might look to anyone else as though they hated each other but Tobirama had been secretly thrilled to have someone who finally understood his particular brand of communication.

The more bits and bobs of random materials Izuna attempted to give him, however, the more he began to question whether he had grievously misunderstood something. Jabs and jests he could understand. Pranks, on the other hand, had never been part of their repertoire. Oh he had seen Izuna pull the wool over other people’s eyes before and he’d been woken more than once by the eagle scream of Madara caught in some trap or another by his precious little sibling. Until now Tobirama himself had seemed to be the only person who escaped such treatment. He’d assumed his counterpart understood that he was not the sort of person to trifle with such things.

Curling under his desk in the brisk morning air, autumn hovering just at the edge of winter, Tobirama was grateful to his second form for both its warmth and smaller stature at the moment. Naturally resistant to the cold and easily capable of hiding under the desk like a child, Tobirama closed his eyes and laid his head down atop crossed paws. Above him Izuna could be heard rustling around. Whatever today’s gift was it apparently required more space than had been left on the desk and clearly the remedy for that was to ruin several hours worth of careful organization rather than just leave it on the floor.

“Bastard probably heard me coming and scarpered.” The tone of irritation was almost more familiar than the sound of his voice.

From his hiding spot Tobirama cracked one heavy eyelid in agreement. That was exactly what he’d done. Never had it been so convenient to be able to slip away from even the Sharingan’s detection. While there were definite limitations in not having access to chakra in this form, the fact that it left one nigh undetectable by sensors was a clear bonus that he was happy to take advantage of now.

It took only a minute or two of patience before Tobirama found himself alone in the room once again, celebrating the much needed peace by stretching out his front paws and flexing each toe to watch his claws appear and retract. With a great yawn that curled his tongue he brought his paws back to fold underneath his head once more as though truly contemplating the notion of an early morning nap. He could use it. Even if he knew very well that he would never actually sleep when there was work to be done it was nice to pretend for a bit that he could be just as lazy as any house cat. Only after his sensitive ears heard the sound of another office door closing down the hall did he finally crawl his way out from under the desk, pausing to shake out his body and resettle any displaced fur.

As he did so the motion of his reflection in the window drew his gaze and Tobirama blinked thoughtfully at the great snow leopard staring back at him from the glass. It had occurred to him, of course, that whatever Izuna was up to might not be a prank but he hadn’t considered before that it might have something to do with the Uchiha propensity for avian forms. Cocking his head to one side and watching his ears flop, he considered it now. How many times had he seen Uchiha flitting about through the forest collecting twigs and leaves and dismissed it without curiosity? So few of their clan had warmed up to him still and he’d returned such lukewarm sentiments with an utter lack of care for learning their ways beyond what tidbits he picked up from interacting with Kagami. Now he sat back on his haunches and wondered if perhaps he shouldn't sacrifice a little of his pride after all.

Later, though. For now he had work to do.

With today’s confusing gift already delivered, Tobirama was able to coast through the rest of his work without the tension of waiting for something unknown. By the time his desk was clear and the sun began to set behind him it felt as though he’d been able to get nearly twice as much done as the past week put together. It was amazing what he could accomplish when he was actually able to concentrate. He left the office with a surprising amount of energy left; just enough that he thought he might be able to deal with the humiliation of asking for help from his brother.

For such a late hour the streets were still quite packed with people running a few evening errands and couples venturing out to meet for dates. Just in the time it took him to reach the Senju compound Tobirama passed three couples holding hands, two making out in places they probably thought were inconspicuous, and one in the midst of a proposal that did not seem to be very well received. Peace, it seemed, was quite the aphrodisiac for many people once they finally settled in to the concept of it. After that first uncertain year had passed and their peoples got used to sharing the same territory it was as though half the population was suddenly caught up in some unseasonal mating frenzy. Strange how priorities changed when one didn’t need to spend every moment of every day fearing for one’s life.

“Tadaima!” His own voice echoed back to him when he stepped inside, mingling with the sound of the door clicking shut behind him. As he kicked off his shoes he frowned and strained his ears. No sound. A quick sweep showed the building empty to his senses as well. Either he was home alone for the evening or Hashirama and Mito were not walking on two legs.

Since the questions knocking about in his mind weren’t exactly urgent he took the time to stop by his bedroom and change his clothing, shedding the dust and sweat of a long day in favor of well-worn cotton soft on his skin, comfortable loungewear he would never be caught dead in outside the home. Then he wandered through the living room, the kitchen, the green room filled with plants where he often found Hashirama napping when he was meant to be doing so many other things. Nowhere was there any sign of life until he happened to glance out the back window and spotted two massive forms huddled together in the backyard.

Unobserved, he allowed himself a moment to simply watch with a smile. It had always struck him as particularly funny that when human Hashirama was about as clumsy as they come but in the form of a bear he somehow managed to exude grace and calm. Even as he tore in to the strip of raw meat clearly serving as his dinner he looked more adorable than terrifying. The same could not be said of his wife. An empress in all but title on two legs, it had been a surprise to learn that her secondary form was also that of the bear until the first time Tobirama witnessed her tearing in to an enemy with tooth and claw. Hashirama might be a cute docile little sun bear but his wife was a brown bear ready to rampage the instant she perceived a threat to the ones she saw as her own. It was oddly fitting.

At the moment, however, the two of them were doing nothing more violent than partaking of a meal together and Tobirama was loath to disturb such a domestic scene. He contented himself with a plateful of leftovers from the previous evening’s dinner and ate alone at the kitchen table with fingers and chopsticks while he waited. The sun was barely finished setting and he had only just finished washing his dishes when the other two made it back inside. A whuffing moan greeted him, to which he rolled his eyes.

“I do not speak bear, Anija. Such uncouth noises.”

“So mean,” Hashirama pouted as he flowed back to humanity with the seamless grace of someone who had made the change countless times before. “We were going to leave some for you but you never came outside so I ate your meat.”

“Thank you, but I was content with stew.”

Mito narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him but said nothing, only reached out to bring the tips of her fingers against his shoulder. He accepted the gesture with a nod before looking back to his brother.

“Can I ask you a few questions? You would know more about the Uchiha than I do.” His should have known better than to be so vague. The words had hardly left his mouth when Hashirama froze in the act of searching out an after dinner snack, turning to look at him with an already exhausted expression.

“Oh Tobi-” he started to say.

“I didn’t do anything!” Tobirama protested. “Not this time, at least. I just wondered if you could give me a little insight in to some of their habits. If you’re going to be a dick about it I can always find someone else to ask.”

“No! I’m sorry! Please don’t ask anyone else. What, ah, what did you want to know?”

Hashirama offered him a cute little smile but it fooled no one. They both knew all he wanted was to make sure Tobirama didn’t go asking the wrong questions to the wrong person and starting a fight with his habitual bluntness. Still, if it got him the answers he wanted right now he was willing to overlook the lack of faith this once.

Just because his brother had a point didn’t mean he had to be so obvious about it.

“If I describe a certain behavior that I’ve observed could you tell me if you know the reasoning behind it?” Tobirama waited until he received an attentive nod before going on. “Right. Say one person is bringing things to another and presenting them as if they’re gifts. Except all of these ‘gifts’ are pieces of scrap or garbage or even just leaves off the ground. Does that sound like any sort of Uchiha-specific behavior to you or just some kind of very elaborate prank?”

For several heartbeats his brother stared at him, almost like he was trying to determine whether or not that was a serious question, until finally he pulled off a signature personality flip by sliding straight in to a swoon.

“Whoever you’ve been watching, they’re so lucky!” he declared.

“Lucky?”

“Yes! It seems they’ve caught someone’s eye!”

Tobirama scowled. “You know I hate it when you make such poor attempts at humor, Anija.”

“But it’s not a joke! I’m serious, that sounds just like how an Uchiha behaves when they’re trying to catch the interest of a potential mate!” Hashirama sniffled, wounded to be accused of making jokes. Or perhaps wounded that his terrible sense of humor had been so rightly assessed. It didn’t matter. Tobrama was much more interested in the utterly ridiculous bullshit his sibling was trying to feed him.

“How does bringing someone litter off the ground or used rags translate as an offer to mate?”

Immediately affecting another swoon, Hashirama sighed like a woman from one of his trashy romance novels. “The gifts aren’t litter, they’re materials! Madara explained it to me once when his secretary kept trying to bring him twigs. When an Uchiha wants to mate with someone they bring them whatever materials they think could be used to make a nice nest for them both. Things like leaves and cloth might be the lining, wood and sticks might be used for the main structure, even pretty little baubles that might just be for decorating! I think it’s really sweet. They build homes together!”

“Nests. That’s...they were all...nesting materials.” Swallowing felt suddenly three times more difficult than it should have been. “I need to sit down.”

“You’re already sitting down?”

“I need to lay down.”

Hashirama blinked at him, studied him closely. It took several moments but a slow grin began to form that stretched his face with a maniacal sort of joy. “It’s you! You’re the one who’s been getting these mating gifts! Someone is trying to court you!”

“According to you he is asking me to bond with him permanently!” Tobirama had never felt so close to a panic attack in his life.

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“Because I had thought his opinions of me to be mere tolerance! I had no idea he felt anything like this! What do I even do with this information, Anija!?”

“Oh I don’t know. You could try accepting a gift or two? Going out on a date? You could tell me who it is! Is it that very pretty lad who works in the mission room? No! It’s that quiet man in the archives! I knew I saw him looking at your bottom that day! This is just so sweet, I am just so happy for you!” Hashirama’s arms struck like a pair of sun-browned cobras to wrap around his neck and squeeze tight. “My little baby brother is all grown up and finding a mate!”

It took squirming, yelling, and a smidgen of violence to extract himself from such an unwarranted embrace. By the time he struggled himself free Hashirama had nearly soaked one shoulder of his previously clean yukata with tears and snot. Delightful. Only years of training in speed and flexibility allowed him to escape the kitchen without being dragged in to another hug, hurrying down the hall to lock himself in to his bedroom where he staunchly ignored the whining coming through his door. Hashirama could be happy for him all he liked. That didn’t make it any easier to process the revelation that had just been dropped on him unexpectedly.

So Izuna was attempting to court him with the intention of mating. Tobirama knew as well as anyone else who spent any amount of time around their clan that the Uchiha mated for life, unwilling to commit themselves to something of that magnitude unless they were certain it was what they wanted for the rest of their lives. Now that he had finally cottoned on to what was actually happening he needed to figure out how he felt about it before taking any action.

Did he want this too?

Waiting for sleep that night was made harder by the familiar chakra creeping up and down the hall to check whether or not his bedroom was still locked several times. His brother never had been able to understand proper boundaries. Either he finally gave up or Mito grew tired of him rustling about and tied him down somewhere but whatever the case Tobirama did eventually fall asleep. By his best estimate, however, when he woke again he had only dreamt for perhaps a little more than three hours.

He made sure to avoid his brother on his way out of the house the next morning, detouring through the marketplace to pick up something to break his fast. For once in his life he was actually grateful to the swarm of people who mobbed him the moment he stepped inside the administration tower. Any other day he would have been annoyed to have so much extra work shoved in to his hands before he even made it to his own office but today it was nice to have something that demanded his attention, something to occupy his mind without the gnawing guilty feeling of knowing he was only avoiding the inevitable. With his arms full of fresh paperwork he marched his way up the stairs and buried his face in whichever scroll he was able to unroll without upsetting the whole pile. A distraction was only good if he let himself sink in to it.

Of course, he’d known the moment he left home that he would only have so much time before the very thing he spent all night giving his deepest considerations to would come barging in and demanding even more of his attention. As he watched the door swing open Tobirama supposed that he should at least appreciate that Izuna had allowed him an hour or so of peace to settle in.

“Morning!” Under the cheer of his tone Izuna’s smile was wan, almost false, though whether he was losing hope or if he’d simply not slept well the night before was unclear.

“What do you have for me today?” Tobirama asked.

After a moment of startled blinking Izuna was quick to hold out the small bundle of cloth in his arms. “Before you ask, no, none of them have an uchiwa on them.”

Tobirama hummed and bent his neck for a closer look. Clothing, although different from the last similar offering. Before he had been offered well used scraps that - he understood now - would have carried a great deal of sentimental value and made a very potent addition to any nest. These clothes were much newer looking and yet his sharp nose told him the other man had very carefully worn every item in that pile at least once to coat them with his scent. Not quite as important to avians but to a cat scent was everything.

When he reached out to accept the bundle he got the distinct impression that Izuna only barely stopped himself from fainting.

“Since I won’t be wearing them,” he mumbled, “I don’t suppose it matters whose mon they have stitched on them.”

“You...took them. You took them? You took them from me. I think I’m asleep.” Izuna reached across himself to pinch his own arm without breaking eye contact.

“If you had perhaps used your words I might have been inclined to accept your, ah, offers a little sooner.”

Tobirama’s hand twitched with the urge to scrub at the back of his neck with embarrassment, though he managed to keep himself from doing it. He would probably never admit it to the man but he owed Hashirama a great deal for explaining things to him the way he had. As much as he would absolutely be teasing Izuna about this it was a very good thing his old rival had never actually explained what his gifts were meant for. Having someone else clue him in gave Tobirama the chance he needed to panic in private, get past the instinctual need to run, and actually face the emotions he had apparently been repressing for longer than he wished to acknowledge.

“Does this- you do know what that is, right?” Izuna asked carefully. He visibly held his breath when met with a slow nod.

“Yes. I do. Well, now I do.” And that was all he hoped he would have to say about that. “You should probably know that snow leopards do not make nests.”

“No?”

“Our dens don’t require much personalization so I will need your guidance on how to go about this. If we’re both to be comfortable then I’ll want to make sure our nest is to your specifications.” Tobirama very much hoped his cheeks were not as red as they were warm. Romance and mates had never been something that took up many of his thoughts, never a subject he felt much of a need to pursue. It was lucky for him, then, that he seemed to have fallen in love with someone willing to pursue him instead.

If Izuna had been blessed with four legs in his second form he would no doubt have begun purring raucously in the moment it finally hit him that this was real. Since his vocal chords were not shaped for that he instead broke out in to the toothiest, smuggest grin that Tobirama had ever seen. It was a terribly good look on him.

A low, pleased trill echoed up his throat as he stepped forward until they were pressed together, chest to chest, and lifting his chin to nuzzle against the underside of Tobirama’s jaw. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture from someone whose usual method of showing he cared was a well timed insult aimed straight for the weak points. Even more endearing - and even more surprising - were the hands that brushed their way up the length of Tobirama’s abdomen to rest softly against his chest. Unassuming, unasking, reaching out yet still allowing space. How could a man do anything but pull him in to a loose embrace and close his eyes to bask?

“Mate,” Izuna whispered against the skin of his throat. “I’ve been incredibly patient for the honor of calling you that.”

“You have indeed,” Tobirama admitted.

“I think I deserve a little something for my troubles.”

A smile lifted the corners of Tobirama’s mouth. “I might be convinced to compensate you if the request isn’t too ridiculous.”

He was answered by another soft trill that plucked at his heartstrings in ways he never would have been able to admit if Izuna had not made the first move. Though finding a mate had never been a priority in his plans for the future he would have to give up his title of ‘genius’ to turn down an offer of happiness like this one.

“Would you be willing to share a bit more of your nest building customs? I would hate to offend by accident so early in our bond.”

“Before we worry about offending anything we should, oh I don’t know, maybe get busy forming the bond,” Izuna suggested. His tone by itself was suggestive enough even before he pulled away a scant inch or two to lock their gazes with a filthy leer. Tobirama tried to resist but it was no good. He smiled helplessly, the first of many capitulations to come.

“I am eager to learn any part of you that you wish to share,” he said.

And if perhaps under the suggestiveness of his own words he had cleverly hidden the softest parts of his heart laid bare, well, it was only right of him to share every part of himself with his new mate as well.

#rae writes #izutobi #izuna #tobirama #fanfiction #tobiizu gift exchange

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straykidsupdate · 5 years ago

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Stray Kids Make Their Mark In NYC With World Tour "District 9: Unlock"

Nestled underneath the majestic Madison Square Garden in New York City lies Hulu Theater — a smaller, more intimate performance venue where every seat is given a front-row view. It's here, on January 29, 2020, where Stray Kids began their journey across the USA for Stray Kids World Tour "District 9: Unlock."

Bright lights on the ceiling of the venue illuminated the crowd below, but it's nothing compared to the hundreds of Stray Kids lightsticks, coined najimbongs, that many in the audience held in their hands. Fans sang along to Stray Kids songs while they waited in anticipation for the 8 idols to take the stage.

A theatrical VCR introduced the start of the show, much to the audience's delight. Screams grew louder as their biases appeared on the screen, and peaked when the screens separated to reveal Stray Kids. They were there. They were real. Yes, it was absolutely happening.

If you thought this would be an easy-going, relaxing concert — do we have news for you! Energy levels began at 325% right off the bat as Stray Kids jumped into a remix of "District 9." And yes, the song can go harder than it already does. The momentum never stopped as they continue on with "Victory Song," "Question," a remix of "Rock," an epic dance break that made its last appearance at KCON LA, and the iconic "Side Effects." We have to commend these boys and their energy: there were no breaks in between these high-impact performances.

"We worked really hard to unlock this world tour for you," Changbin shared after the group made their cheery introductions to the crowd. It was no lie — just within eight months since Stray Kids held their last USA tour, the group has accomplished so much. Seeing their fans, known as Stay, as many times as they can is unmistakably one of their top priorities. How can you tell? If you've seen the way their eyes shine as they stare into the audience, you wouldn't doubt the love they have for Stay one bit.

To counter the tenacious impact of their first few stages, Stray Kids brought about a chiller, more laid-back atmosphere with "M.I.A." Though no choreography accompanied this performance, Felix surprised the crowd by dancing to "Renegade," a dance trend that went viral on video-based social networking app TikTok. This is one honorable mention from the show that will go down in Stray Kids history.

The first unit stage followed — Hyunjin, Lee Know, and Felix wowed the crowd with a deeply seductive performance to "Wow." Yes, abs were involved (thank you, Felix). The trio, known to fans as Danceracha, effortlessly dominated the stage with their presence. Leader Bang Chan later designated their performance as "sexy time," and we have yet to see the lie in that statement.

"Mixtape #4" was the next song off the setlist, and many were not prepared for the emotions that the song brought: with its lyrics, Stray Kids assure us to keep moving forward despite difficulties that we may face and to know that although we might feel alone, we never really are. During Felix's rap, Stay united as one as they shouted: "Stray Kids nine or none, we're gonna cross the finish line," though there were only eight standing on stage. The amount of love and adoration held in the venue visibly grew after that point.

It was time to "Get Cool," and what better way to fill the "Awkward Silence" than with the fun, cheeky performances that followed next? Members chased and tickled each other — youngest member I.N. being the most popular target — and interacted with the crowd during these upbeat, cheerful tracks. It's moments like these were the relationship between Stray Kids and Stay truly show their colors — not only through the laughs shared or cheers exchanged but also through the concerned gasps from the crowd as they watched Hyunjin fake-throw Seungmin into the audience. But hey, I'm sure Stay would have caught him if it really happened, right?

Let's take a moment to think about the VCR that played next. Picture this: Stray Kids take to the streets, wielding weapons and destroying virtual buildings in the most magnificent way possible. Is this symbolism for Stray Kids fighting the system, taking it into their own hands, and building a district of their own? Or is it purely just a group of eight boys wanting to destroy things for fun? Either way, we're all for Stray Kids world domination.

But on the real, the true message that Stray Kids wanted to share came to light in their performance of "Levanter." Stray Kids isn't just the name of their group; it's what they represent. Reflecting on the words both seen in the VCR and spoken by the members, there are lost kids all around the world just trying to find their footing. Together, step by step, they can pave a road to move forward. Here lies the strength echoed in the words, "Stray kids everywhere all around the world."

Sentimental moments were followed by soft ones as vocalists Seungmin and I.N. reappeared on stage in baby blue accented outfits, serenading the crowd during "My Universe." Just as Danceracha appeared for their unit stage earlier in the show, this was Vocalracha's time to shine. Special shoutout to Changbin for his rap verse appearance — though his vocals could potentially land him a spot in Vocalracha, don't you think?

The eight members continued their serene mood with a performance of "Third Eye," complete with the smooth use of chairs as props in their choreography. Chairs made the choreography more dynamic, playing with levels changes and strategic placements that brought the performance to the next level of satisfaction. Speaking of satisfying, Felix's deep-toned rap over nothing but a heavy, rhythmic bass drum is something we can listen to over and over again.

Stray Kids then transitioned into a straight line formation, basked in a cool light as a ballad accompaniment of "I Am You" played softly in the background. Experiencing this song without the choreography gives Stay a completely new perspective of the performance, filled with more emotion and connection than can be explained by words. The feelings intensified as Stay joined Stray Kids with the words "Stay together, you and I."

Stray Kids gave Stay the ultimate whiplash as the stage flipped into one of the most chaotically satisfying performances of the night: 3RACHA finally made their appearance. Basked in red lights (a warning, perhaps?) and dressed in leather detailed jackets, Bang Chan, Changbin, and Han lit the stage on fire with their performance of "We Go." Equal parts playful and chaotic, this unit, formed even before Stray Kids' official debut, really knows how to serve the heat - they're 3RACHA after all.

Following the wave of intensity that 3RACHA SUMMONED, the group reunited as eight on stage to perform a remix of "Road Not Taken" and an extended dance version of "My Pace." They take a moment afterwards to chat and interact with the audience. Han, being the overly excited delight that he is, fumbled with his words as he spoke. He laughed it off by apologizing to the translator, admitting he was too excited.

"I've never heard Stay scream this loud before," Bang Chan shared with the audience, "but I've never heard Felix scream so loud!" Felix laughed along with the entire venue in defeat — apparently, his excitement had gotten the better of him as well.

Changbin's comment felt all too real: "We want to be happy every day, but that's not always possible," he starts, "but I believe we can overcome these things and those hardships will pass like the wind." Bang Chan echoed his words, thanking Stay for their kind comments and for always staying by Stray Kids' side, which in turn started a chant of "we love you's" from the audience. The chant turned into a competition when Stray Kids started saying "we love Stay" in return. Who will win this exchange of love? We'll let you know (if it ever ends at all).

"Make sure to tie your shoelaces twice!" Bang Chan exclaimed as they jumped into "Double Knot." (Does he write his own material? Genius). Just like the beginning of the show, their energy stayed top tier as they lead into "Boxer" and their debut song "Hellevator." The stage production and background VCR for "Hellevator" was extremely impactful, using first-person point of view to transform the theater into a completely different world. It felt like a 3d virtual reality game where Stay accompanied Stray Kids on a journey through the fire and rubble, making their way out of this "Hellevator" together.

Stray Kids' performance to "Miroh" was taken to new levels with the introduction of drums, both as props and a backing beat to the hard-hitting instrumentals that ignite the chorus. An extended dance break made the stage even more exciting, but it also made us wonder how they're still jumping with so much energy. JYP, tell us your secrets, we beg of you.

And just when you thought this concert couldn't get any cuter, the next VCR introduced an interactive game. With games, came prizes — this one being Stray Kids returning to the stage for more performances. The premise of the game was simple: a Stray Kids song played while 8-bit icons appeared in beat at the bottom of the screen. When a clapping icon appeared, Stay had to clap. When a heart icon appeared, Stay had to form hearts over their heads. And, in true Stray Kids fashion, when a dab icon appeared, Stay had to hit the hardest dab of their life. "Get Cool" was the song that played during the practice round, with "Miroh" being the main stage of the game. Cameras panned through the audience, focusing on enthusiastic Stay in the crowd and screening them on the large LEDs on stage. It was a fun and entertaining way for Stay to participate in the show from their seats and also a clever way to get a whole theater to "dab to the left" at the same time. Several members mentioned they were watching the audience from backstage and called us "cute." If that's what it takes to make Stray Kids think we're cute, we might as well play this game all day, every day.

The final stage of the game was "unlocked," prompting Stray Kids to make their way back to NYC Stay, dressed in tour merch and bright blue accessories — Han wore a blue LA Dodgers cap (in NYC? We won't question it, we'll just let him do his thing.) while Lee Know had a soft blue sweater tied around his torso. The lyrics to "Grow Up" appeared in the background, inviting Stay to sing along. There was something soothing about singing the lyrics together, telling each other that you're doing fine, to just take your time, and that you can do it.

The inevitable finally arrived — final ments. It got real deep during Felix's last comments. "Having to express our love for one another — It gets me in the feels and I really want to do so much more for you guys. You're the reason why we are still Stray Kids. I really believe in Stay."

Changbin continued with his own set of sappy love-filled messages. "Now that I'm here with you, I'm so happy and excited. I shouldn't expect anything because you always surprise me! Thank you, this is for you." Changbin shared as he threw a cute finger heart to the crowd.

Before their last two stages, "YAYAYA" and a reprise of "Miroh," Bang Chan expressed his feelings. "As long as you guys invite us, we'll be glad to come back. You gave us the chance to come back here and we were so stoked! We'll give you guys the best 2020 ever, promise. It feels like Stay is a part of our family — it was your show and ours today."

Here's something important for Stay to remember as a takeaway from their show: You not only make Stray Kids stay — you make them grow. You make them succeed. You make them happy. This fan-idol relationship? It's a two way street. But it's a street that Stray Kids and Stay gravitate towards so effortlessly and make their home.

Thank you to SubKulture Entertainment and JYP Entertainment for the chance to experience this memorable night in New York City during Stray Kids World Tour 'District 9 : Unlock.' Make sure to keep supporting Stray Kids!

Don't miss your chance to see Stray Kids live on this tour! Tickets to upcoming locations are still available here: https://www.subkultureent.com/stray-kids

Source: KpopStarz

#stray kids #200129 #era: clé levanter #t: article #kpop starz

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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hotel california. (gigi/jackie) — chapter four, roza

summary: jackie begins to feel herself collapse under all the pressure of the iranian revolution and gigi just wants to help anyway she can. her idea of help however, might prove not to be the best idea.

author's note: thank you jankie candle for all the support, alex for being the best beta and after this last episode: I write jackie because she's my favourite and because she's my representation and this fic (though completely gay as shit) is for showing how important middle eastern history is and how complicated and awful the situation was for any persian at that time. I lost so much confidence and pride after that maddening question jeff asked jackie and writing this made me realize that this story is powerful purely for the fact I'm even getting this message to an audience. do your research, take some time to understand that anyone middle eastern has been fighting to be in america and has been discriminated for decades: this unfortunately isn't something new to america.

AO3 Link / My Tumblr: @leljaaa / (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

— *.✧

One week had officially passed since Jackie had stepped foot on to the soil of the United States. One week since the day she landed in Los Angeles, utterly horrified from what was going on back home in Iran as the revolution exploded, as she took to the city with only a single suitcase and all of her savings.

A deer in the headlights; she had begun to get adjusted to the timezones, to the activities, her English had only gotten better and better bit by bit yet her anxiety had only worsened.

The morning after her and Gigi's first makeout session she found herself on a cloud of euphoria, before she finally fell back on Earth as she listened to the radio in her room.

The words that left the lips of the announcer made her drop the mug she held before she saw it break into dozens of decent sized pieces on the floor.

"Prime Minister Jamshid Amouzegar resigns; his successor, Jafar Sharif-Emami, undertakes reforms…"

"Shit…کُس نگو."

However, all of the difficulties aside there was a shining moment of light despite the current events happening right before her: one week since she kissed Gigi in a spur of the moment decision.

Jackie was thrilled that it had become somewhat of a routine for the both of them.

The blonde would lean against her door before they would go on their much anticipated daily ride's together on Gigi's bike. A subtle and sneaky kiss placed across her lips when the Persian would open the door and see her friend right in front of her.

Gigi would grab her wrist whenever Jackie walked down past the recreational building that both her and Crystal worked at and spent most of their time on the weekdays in.

The redhead would snicker and keep an eye for any passing people and Jackie would brush their lips together, Gigi happy to steal a million and more kisses from the Persian who came to enjoy the danger and surprise of kissing in public any moment they got.

A simple shove would do if they heard footsteps, even if most of the time it was just Crystal being nosy and wanting to run around the hallways like a toddler.

"It's my exercise!" She would scream as she attempted every gymnastics trick possible with Jackie giggling, before they decided that keeping the kissing to a minimum unless they were inside of the Persian's complex would be the best idea.

Another growing evening saw Gigi inside of Jackie's apartment, watching her get dressed and style her abundance of curly hair.

"An endless supply of Kaftans," Gigi grinned as she stared up and down Jackie's body finding it interesting she managed to fit so much into that tiny, blue suitcase. These flowing, light-weight garments had become somewhat of a brand with Jackie.

The Persian rolled her eyes.

"It is all I wear," she joked with a wink as she tied it with a belt across the waist, knowing that they were probably going to once again go riding.

It had become their new sacred activity, along with baking and cooking together; Gigi was happy beyond words to be Jackie's taste tester and help with every miniscule task in the kitchen.

"You look hot, I'm not saying anything against it," Gigi replied as she stood up and wrapped her arms around Jackie's waist, the two of them swayed in silence hearing only the faint blare of radio from outside.

They couldn't possibly be a thing .

Jackie was far too focused on the revolution and all of the idiotic responses from the American government attempting to "help" the people and the government.

She was worried about her family, her friends, her entire life—she feared every passing minute that she might never get to return to Tehran.

It was also the seventies: this wasn't the era to come out, despite all the sexual revolutions that had begun the decade before; it was a death wish to be gay or lesbian or trans or anyone who was different. Especially considering the growing anti-Iranian sentiments that grew in the United States.

They couldn't be together.

Gigi understood. She knew that Jackie had a plan to be in Canada with close family and that she would most likely never see her again; she was on the run and the blonde tried to enjoy as much time with the Persian as physically possible.

She kissed her long and slow, Jackie always returned the favour and would find her arms snaked around the blonde's neck or waist, just attempting to live in this little safe haven she had built with Gigi over the past week.

"You want to go and get some food? Your fridge is looking just a little empty."

"If it is not a bother with you to make the stop."

"You're never a bother," Gigi mumbled before kissing her forehead as she grabbed her hands, interlocking them as they began to race once again to the blonde's house just across her complex.

Gigi hopped on to her bike, inserting the key in the ignition of the motorcycle. She turned on the fuel petcock before she turned the key to the ignition. Jackie jumped on behind her, her arms around her partner's waist before the blonde began to ride off out to the familiar streets once again.

— *.✧

"How is it back home? I heard about some stuff on TV and wanted to check on you earlier," she whispered near her earlobe as Jackie winced, not wanting to even give it the time of day currently.

"It is not something I wish to think about at the moment…" Jackie admitted with a somber tone as she picked up three entire bundles of spinach. The blonde nodded in response, apologising, though the Persian chuckled with a bright smile growing across her lips.

"Don't apologise for this, none of it is your fault. I appreciate you trying to stay educated and up to date for me."

Gigi grabbed two entire bars of chocolate with a slight smirk plastered across her face. She didn't want to admit to Jackie that she truly couldn't care less about politics until the day they had met.

The blonde was far too young and dumb to even know half of the vocabulary used, but seeing Jackie every single second of her life fighting to even stay alive and not get beat up on the street, not get heckled or screamed at - it was powerful.

I was so sheltered and normal my whole life, I didn't even realize that this stuff can even happen in America so frequently.

She truly hadn't felt herself become so well educated in politics since having to pass her senior year exam on the American government and current economic system. Crystal had always pushed her to become more and more educated even as they both would skip to the bleachers and smoke every cigarette possible, watching the jocks run miles on the track.

"I'm Mexican, I have to see all of this criticism on TV, I'm not just going to ignore it. I live my life truthfully and speak up, I suggest you do the same."

Crystal's words had always hit hard and now they felt like a punch right in the stomach when she would kiss Jackie.

"Do you possibly need any more sweets?" The Persian teased as she noticed half of their basket filled with American candy and deserts.

"Don't test me," the two of them giggled as they headed for the check out, Jackie bit down on her lip as Gigi added one more sweet to the basket, noticing the judging look from the Persian beside her.

"How very dare you."

— *.✧

The two walked out as they managed to successfully collect all of the groceries in two plastic bags, Jackie squatted down as she began to tie them to the throttles of the motorcycle and Gigi leaned against the front of her bike, paying no mind as the sun began to set across California.

There was a light conversation between two men and the Persian girl, the blonde feeling a heavy uneasiness build in her stomach as she looked away, trying not to look completely and utterly defensive of her friend.

Her fingers slipped in her back pocket, a slight relief building over her as she realized her pocket knife was still present in case of any funny situation.

She heard Jackie yelp and turned immediately on impact of hearing the noise realizing that some asshole decided it would be absolutely hilarious if besides the subtle catcalling they would grab her wrists and try to touch her.

"Leave her alone," Gigi yelled with firm anger, her fingertips fixated on her collar as the two men made eye contact and only ignored her, as if she was a brick wall.

I know I look young but Jesus.

"I said leave my partner alone you fucking prick," she yelled seeing the clear level of discomfort build across Jackie's face as she walked over to them, kicking the one male right in the shin as he crumbled beneath her.

Partner… shit.

"On the bike, now ," was all Gigi muttered before she spit on the man beneath her, beginning to walk back to her motorcycle before the other man; far bigger and stronger than she was dug his fingers into her wrists—she was pulled back to where she had been standing as the older man took a punch right at her eye.

"Fucking lesbo," he muttered as Gigi bit her lip, feeling both men get up and laugh about how weak and pathetic the blonde was.

She could hear Jackie scream but the blonde was absolutely determined she wasn't going to let her guard down. She had utterly snapped upon hearing their response, knowing her choices were to either let them win this fight or leave them absolutely regretting they ever even touched her or Jackie.

I'll go with the second option.

Gigi grabbed the pocket knife from her back pocket before she slit the leg of the man in front of her, Jackie gasped as she covered her mouth. The blonde kicked his knee cap before hearing something crack as he collapsed to the concrete.

All of this and yet no one had even tried to stop them or noticed.

"Fucking prick," she screamed in utter prolific disdain as she sent the other one to the ground, the two of them fumbling. The final straw had been one of them attempting to apologise as his hands strayed down to her hips.

"Your girlfriend is pretty but I can definitely change your mind."

She felt absolutely no remorse as she stabbed him in the shoulder, kicking him to the ground as she bolted for her bike.

Jackie grabbed the knife, putting it back in the blonde's pocket as her entire body seemed to be shaking, Gigi wiped the blood off of her cheek as she started up the bike again.

The two men were left completely crushed and down on their luck and the blonde could only keep silent as they rode off back to the complex.

"Gigi," she whispered at a stoplight, feeling the cool wind against her hair as the blonde stood silent. "Can we talk about all of that?"

That entire ten minutes felt like three hours and Jackie was more horrified about Gigi's injuries than anything else. The blonde made the turn to the familiar street.

"Not now."

— *.✧

Narrowly escaped a homophobic attack, what an American dream.

Jackie stared down at her fingers, swallowing a breath as she realized that there were still a few scratches and bruises that showed up across her skin. She hadn't been hurt even an inch as bad as the blonde beside her.

Gigi sighed, inhaling her cigarette as she stood in the doorway of the old and deserted barn that her father wanted to transform into another recreational center.

"Gigi, you can't just punch people and throw them to the ground like that…"

The blonde fidgeted with her burnt out cigarette as she blew out the puff of smoke near the cascading scene of rain unfolding in front of the two. "He was yelling too loud," Gigi said cooly as she leaned against the chipped away, red exterior wall.

"Not to mention he was being a fucking prick."

"Gigi I don't appreciate violence, that's the thing I fled in the first place from," Jackie yelled, frustrated, as she glanced at the younger woman's purple and blue bruise that was beginning to show up under her eye as Gigi rolled her eyes.

"You don't have to keep staring at my bruise, I'll be fine. I hope that fucking dick suffers with his broken knee cap. Regardless of where you came from, the violence in this situation was justified."

"I'm not going against the first rule of my religion," the Persian hissed as she threw her friend's dead cigarette butt straight in the scene of heavy rain as the American gasped, explaining that she had just littered.

"What are your parents going to say?"

"I will handle this, nothing some makeup can't fix. If not, I'll just say it was a riding accident!"

The older woman's stomach twisted: she didn't even want to even think about what plan Gigi had to try and explain this situation to her parents.

Jackie brushed her fingertips past the bruise as they were both left breathless and staring into each other's eyes. The rain poured, but every ounce of focus was on the Persian's dark brown and hypnotic pupils that seemed to grow at the sight of their exchange.

"Gigi..." she choked out in a hoarse whisper as her fingers slid into the blonde's wavy hair. She was currently unable to communicate the growing feeling buried at the pit of her stomach in any language.

I want you so bad, I need you.

"Kiss me, we're all alone Jackie," Gigi desperately replied as both of the girls flushed, not wanting to currently think about all of the homophobia raging around the world.

It was almost the eighties, a new turn of the decade; there had to be some grand development of human rights with Stonewall and all the protests and small legal action passed to protect LGBTQ citizens.

Right now it was just the two girls and a rabbit hopping about near them on the grass patch as they stood in complete silence. Jackie pushing away the minute Gigi leaned in to kiss her.

"We will be targeted more than ever," Jackie worriedly cried out, halfway to the verge of tears as Gigi shook her head instantaneously. The Persian grabbed the blonde's collar with her hands as she stared up and down the gently blood-stained pastel motorcycle outfit.

"I will protect you, I won't ever let anybody hurt you," her words crisp and honest and pointed with every emotion, knowing this might be the only chance they would get to genuinely confess their feelings and utter devotion.

Jackie was never one to make a spur of the moment decision, but the minute their lips pressed against each other, she felt every worry of her life and the revolution melt away.

She can't put a finger on exactly what was making her act so odd and completely puddle over the blonde but it hit all too suddenly as they locked lips, Jackie tugging at the blonde's hair.

I'm in love with her… I'm in love with Gigi.

This was a growing cultural difference that the Persian had begun to notice since she moved to California for the time being and since she watched every movie or show that played on the television.

American's would say "I love you," constantly.

It was used for just about anyone and every situation. Jackie had no idea if it was just a compliment in the western world or if it was truly the intimate word and expression that she had grown up knowing was saved only for the moment something clicked.

Jackie knew that this had to be that special moment. Everything clicked.

The blondes lips tasted like cigarettes and cherry chapstick; Jackie was never so turned on by such an odd combination in her life.

Every possible butterfly rapidly bounced in their stomachs as they kissed, acting as if it was the end of the world about to hit and this would be the last time.

Gigi was completely in a euphoric state of mind as she grabbed Jackie's waist and began snaking her lips to her neck. Her lipstick lightly smeared across the Persian's skin as she heard her friend yelp in surprise.

They grabbed each other's hand tightly as Jackie admitted that they should probably not be doing all of this so out in the open, right outside the complexes.

"Your room… please," the three worded response enough to make the Persian completely fly by as she grabbed Gigi's hand gigging, running past the fields as they shushed each other and entered the hallway of Jackie's floor from the back door.

Jackie couldn't possibly open her door fast enough for Gigi's sake as they silently retreated into her room. The blonde did a long and hard take of the hallway making sure nobody saw them enter the room.

Locking the door, she whipped around to the blonde who was waiting to kiss her once again. Their lips smashing together as Jackie pushed aside every awful and anxiety-ridden thought from her brain.

I can't wallow in negativity for the rest of my life.

I need this.

Every thought immersed in getting to be in sync with each other's bodies and the idea of kissing each other all night alone and in secret.

"Your lips are so soft," Gigi grunted as the two continued to kiss, Jackie impatiently unbuttoned her biker jacket as she tossed it across the floor.

Every dream she had of the two of them ending up together suddenly was worth the pull as the Persian huffed, carefully trying to choose her words.

"My… my bed," the words slipped from the Persian's mouth as they both panted, breathing heavy from both the running and the make out session, Gigi going in to kiss her again as she stopped and tilted her head a bit confused.

"What?"

"I want you in bed with me Gigi!"

Jackie almost shouted the response as the blonde gasped, pressing a finger to the other woman's mouth as they both realized they needed to be a bit more conservative with the loud declarations of love in a complex.

"Stay the night."

The reply came in the form of Gigi jumping into Jackie's arms, the Persian shrieked in worry of dropping the shorter woman before she got a good grip on Gigi who was surprisingly light.

"You look so beautiful," she complimented as they became a continuous stream from Gigi as they both made their way to Jackie's bedroom.

The blonde tossed her partner's jacket to the floor, their lips still focused on one another as they naturally seemed to collapse to the bed.

Holy shit.

Everything seemed light and easy from that point on—both of them in awe of each other and trying not to shout out each other's names every two seconds.

Jackie's thoughts occasionally strayed to what her religious and Middle Eastern family would possibly think of her enjoying herself intimately with Gigi. However, thinking about it while you simultaneously are making your partner moan your own name probably wasn't the smartest idea.

I won't let their disapproval define me.

Especially not when I'm about to frivolously pound Gigi into the ground.

— *.✧

"Wow," Gigi whispered in complete awe as she felt her leg brush up against the Persian's.

Jackie's fingers ran down Gigi's bare skin as the blonde gently laid her head in the crook of her neck, occasionally kissing her jaw, trying not to think about all the hickeys or even worse, all the internalized homophobia.

"I never thought I would love a woman again…"

"I never thought I'd get to actually sleep with one," Gigi laughed aloud as they gently brushed lips, turning on her side so that Jackie could wrap her arms around the blonde.

The Persian giggled, unable to hold back her pure enjoyment of the entire situation.

"Would my words be cheap if I said that I'm completely in love with you?" Gigi finally asked as she felt Jackie breathe out a heavy sigh. Whether it was one of disappointment or relief was something that the blonde couldn't exactly pinpoint.

"Love is a strong word for you to use so soon," was all Jackie could say even if she was being utterly and completely hypocritical.

"But it's the truth Jackie," Gigi whispered softly as she attempted not to break and keep her cool and composed facade.

"I don't want your heart broken when I leave eventually," the Persian finally managed to choke out as she kept her fingers tangled in the blonde's hair. "I don't want us to regret being in love."

"You're the only person I've ever said that to, do you really think I'd regret it?" Gigi asked seriously as she laid beside her lover, completely in a limbo between heaven and hell.

Jackie shook her head, impressed to hear that Gigi had never said it before to anyone, though that only proved to make the Persian's heart grow twice the size it already was.

"I love you as well Gigi," she finally mumbled as her lips pressed against her cheek. The blonde left a gentle kiss on her mouth before she cackled, hearing Jackie tell her to stop before she would get ideas again.

This is dangerous... and yet I'm enjoying every second of it.

#rpdr fanfiction #jackie cox #gigi goode #crystal methyd #gigi x jackie #song fic #decades au #seventies au #hotel california #roza #tw violence #s12

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fatehbaz · 5 years ago

Note

re: unstable access to kitchens/food supplies - is there anything we can do to help?

Thank you for the concern and for checking on me. Just interacting with friends means a lot. Having people that care makes a really big difference to me, even when “my material conditions” don’t change. So not to be all sentimental, but I appreciate you reaching out and, really, I am trying to more actively communicate with and reach out to people (including my friends here).

And, sorry in advance for the needless length of this text, I don’t want to make this a chore to read. I usually try not to draw attention to myself and I avoid discussing my IRL economic crises. (I know the way that I write/”talk” can be a little grating, and it’s especially annoying when I’m talking about myself.) But now that we are all experiencing such an unusually dire catastrophe which could exponentially worsen as time goes on, I guess I’m more willing to talk about these things. I know you asked what kind of support I could use right now, and I really do appreciate being seen and thought of, so I don’t mean to be disrespectful to you by deflecting or side-stepping your question. But I just wanted to clarify why I’m willing to talk openly about myself.

Part of the reason I’m willing to discuss my own experiences right now is because of the concern I have, just in general but also especially now during this pandemic, for other people with no health insurance, unstable access to food, and unstable housing.

Like, if I take off the shitty chipped black nail polish, I can be “vaguely yuppie-passing,” right? I don’t “look” homeless, so I can get away with hanging out in public without getting accosted. But as lockdowns are being legally enforced, I’m watching how other homeless and, now, jobless people are being judged and treated in my area, and I am heartbroken. This is the US, so I’m not surprised, y’know, but I am still disturbed by the complete lack of coverage or popular discourse about how to help homeless people, those incarcerated, or the vast amount of already-struggling people in their 20s who’ve just lost their jobs and face imminent eviction. Regarding kitchens and food access specifically: If you don’t have access to a kitchen, it can be difficult to feed yourself even with access to a food bank or a grocery store gift card or something, because most of that food (cheeses, meats, some vegetables, starches, major carb sources) requires cooking or refrigeration. You can’t do something as straightforward as boiling water or making pasta, rice, or sauteed vegetables. Leftovers are also out of the question without a refrigerator. So you’re forced to spend way more on eating at restaurants. Kitchen access is so important.

So as someone in the US with type 1 diabetes, heart issues, no health insurance, and no home right now, who lost my job due to the lockdowns, I’ve been talking with food banks, clinics, a friend who works in the emergency room, now-unemployed service industry workers, poor university students, and other homeless people in my area. And from this vantage point, things look really bad. There are preposterous obstacles to doing something as “simple” as finding food, when “being outside” is functionally criminalized. Since the virus reached my area, I’ve watched over 100 people at the local shelter sleep on a concrete floor, stained by mud-tracked boots and literal shit. No protective masks; no soap in the soap dispensers to wash your hands with; sharing three shower stalls and one drinking-water fountain. These conditions were always unacceptable. But now? There’s no concern from the wider community. No discussion at all. Before the pandemic, I (like, I imagine, a lot us) was already just … so tired of watching people get hurt, and then essentially left to die the “slow death” of being abandoned to insufficient food, untreated illness, crowded inhumane facilities, and careless institutions. Every consecutive day that I see people in those conditions, I am heartbroken again. It’s not a distant event, it’s not a thought experiment, it’s happening right there, every day.

Anyway, I have always had difficulty asking for or receiving help, even when going through my own personal catastrophes. And now I feel even more hesitant to ask for help, now that everyone needs serious support. I had never before seriously considered making a donation post for myself, and I can’t do so right now anyway. (I can’t receive electronic funds since my bank account is empty and I owe overdraft fees before using it, and I also need to pay a driver’s license renewal fee due to states in the US now mandating adoption of their strange new “dystopian passport/license combination ID card” protocols. It feels so shallow to say, but it’s a matter of money, and I don’t like saying that out loud.) I’ve been through this kind of destitution before, but obviously not during the mass closures and mortal threats of a pandemic. So am I at the point of literally begging for help? Pretty much, yes. And it’s truly scary how many of us are at that point. (Once I get my bank account reopened and can arrange direct deposit, I’ll be trying to get one of the “essential services” jobs that are now available in my area. Purchasing adequate food is really all I want to account for; as long as I’m fed, I do OK. That, and enough insulin. I might soon, begrudgingly, make a donation post, and I’ll post a list of the fees the clinic/state wants from me, but I’ll feel selfish while doing it, y’know?)

–

So I meant it when I said that it’s just nice to socialize, to chat, to just be present for each other. In my past experience, I guess, just knowing that friends are out there, and that they’re acknowledging what you’re going through, that they see you, alleviates some of the despair. I know it sounds dumb and corny. For me, at least. Material poverty and the struggles of chronic illness are, for me, significantly easier to confront when I feel like someone’s rooting for me, when relationships exist. So I genuinely appreciate that you asked me this! Thank you.

#sorry for the length everyone #really do dislike talking about myself #i guess if the parts about conditions of homelessness during the pandemic are important to you feel free to reblog #i have little discretion today

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by-nina · 5 years ago

Text

Years and Years

A Royai fanfic Rating: M (sexual content) Genre: Romance Word Count: 2,048

A/N: Hello everyone I miss writing and I miss Royai! And I was feeling both soft and very spicy so this is what came out of it. Y’all know how much I love taking them back to the Hawkeye manor.

“For starters, the last time I saw you here, I had you burn my back. And before that, I was both an orphan and my father’s successor to you. I don’t know how I should see you, Roy Mustang; you’re a different person every time you’re here, even now.”

There is a four-hour drive from Central to the Hawkeye manor at the outskirts of East City. What was once a dirt road that barely saw visitors to the old house welcomes Riza one morning, and it is only then that the finality of her visit sinks in for the first time. A young family had bought the house three months ago, with the promise that they would manage and spend for the renovations themselves. Her only purpose is to collect some old things of hers and her father’s, and maybe get a bit of cleaning done as courtesy to the family.

Roy had decided to come along without question, or even any kind of discussion. She had simply mentioned the purchase in passing one day, and then her planned visit, and under a still-dark sky that morning, he showed up outside her apartment with his car. It made perfect sense, Riza reasoned. He might have left some of his own things during his time as her father’s student, and he would have more use than she would for whatever research materials her father had left behind. Above all, it’s a huge house—she needs the company and help.

“We’re here, sir.”

He is already awake, but he has difficulty opening his eyes. Riza decides not to wait for him, and she steps out just to look at the old house. She breathes as slowly as she takes it all in. There is a heaviness about it, like a weary weight on tired shoulders. Since her departure for the military, her presence has been replaced by that of overgrown vines and weeds. Despite all this, it hasn’t changed much; the structure still seems solid and functional. Nothing that a fresh coat of paint, new wood trimmings, and landscaping couldn’t fix.

Roy joins her in gazing up at the house. “So this is it, then. Shall we get to work?”

“A ten-minute break won’t hurt.”

“No, no, I’m in perfect shape.” Roy swings and stretches his arms. “That nap for half of the trip helped a lot.”

“I couldn’t let you drive all the way, though, could I? You’ve already done me a huge favor by coming along.”

Riza finally takes her eyes off the house, and as she turns, she’s greeted by a smile that she wallows in greedily, and then guiltily. The warmth that rises in her cheeks is damning in the cool early morning breeze. Thankfully, Roy grants her another favor by not remarking on it. “Come on.”

Every part of the house seems to creak as they enter—the fence, the door, the floorboards. The interiors aren’t as bad as Riza expected. Other than a few mold spots on the upholstery and a layer of dust on the remaining furniture, everything seems to be intact and functional. Of course, it isn’t as if she had left the house entirely untouched once she entered the military. She has dropped by now and again just to make sure it hadn’t fallen to ruin, and the young family has seen it for themselves—there are spots where the dust has been disturbed on the hardwood floors.

“So, where should we start?”

“Hmm.” Riza pauses for a moment. “There’s not a lot down here. I’ll go through the living room and the kitchen—you can start with my father’s study.”

Roy clicks his tongue. “All right.”

Clearing the ground floor is an easy half-hour task, as there are very few things on display that could be considered sentimental. Riza takes the only three pictures in the living room—the last Hawkeye family photo, a solo portrait of her mother, and herself as a baby with her mother—then she proceeds to the kitchen, which is far more promising. She recovers some brass pots and pans, an heirloom dining set with matching silverware, and wooden cooking utensils. Riza gathers these into a box and places them in the trunk of Roy’s car, and then she heads upstairs to check on his progress in the study.

She pokes her head through the door. “How are you doing, Colonel?”

He is crouching by the bottom of a crowded bookshelf at the back of the room, carefully absorbing each title. This is the first thing that takes Riza back to a vivid memory of her childhood, when a much younger Roy first became acquainted with Berthold Hawkeye. Shirt half-tucked, hair standing at the back—she can see the boy there almost as clearly as the man.

“Well, the libraries in Central would cough up a fortune for a collection like this, and this shelf is all just general alchemy titles,” says Roy as he straightens up. He has a tattered book in hand that Riza didn’t notice right away. “You have stuff on philosophy over there, and biology in two full shelves there—that’s not yet getting into physics and chemistry, which is of course a lot more extensive since your father studied flame alchemy, and…”

He trails off at the sight of Riza, who has become a picture of amusement—leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and a smirk lifting one corner of her lips. Roy clears his throat. “Anyway, I’ll try to finish this quickly.”

“Take your time, we have a long day ahead of us.”

Riza’s gaze is then drawn to a door at the end of the hallway. The sight of it alone is enough to fill her with nostalgia, enough to know that she needs to take precisely twelve steps to reach it. She opens the door, and she is all that has changed about the room.

There are a few old books on her dresser and on a shelf that also holds a few memories of schoolgirl days—certificates from school and notebooks filled with both learnings and idle doodles, a few photos here and there, but nothing too personal—they come from official portraits like those from her graduation days, and class photos at assemblies. There’s an old porcelain lamp and her mother’s hairbrush on her nightstand. In her bedframe is a mattress long stripped bare, spotted with mold.

She enters the room as if it were a sleeping beast she doesn’t want to wake. Only her reflection in a tall mirror startles her, but it might have something to do with the unfamiliarity of her freshly cut hair, which is once again as short as it was in her younger years. In contrast, the way she sinks as she sits at the end of her mattress is still a very familiar feeling. Riza is content to stare at the dusty curtains ahead of her for a while, until she is interrupted by the approach of Roy’s heavy footsteps.

“So,” he says, slowly entering and examining the room, “this is the bedroom of young Miss Hawkeye.”

She simpers as she turns to watch him. “You know, it’s not appropriate for strange adult men to enter young girls’ bedrooms like that.”

“No!” Roy clutches his chest in mock pain. “I can’t believe you still consider me a stranger after all these years.”

“Well, I’m open to suggestions. What should I consider you?”

“It’s simple, really.” He takes a few careful steps to the side of Riza’s bed, then hesitates for only a few seconds before sitting in a spot perpendicular to hers. The mattress groans as it accommodates his weight. “When you’ve known someone for nearly all your life, you’ll eventually realize how you truly see them. It could go one way or the other.” A pause. “I realized that about you long ago, Riza.”

Riza ignores the swooping in her chest. She laughs wistfully, her eyes cast downwards.

“Oh, I don’t know. For starters, the last time I saw you here, I had you burn my back. And before that, I was both an orphan and my father’s successor to you. I don’t know how I should see you, Roy Mustang; you’re a different person every time you’re here, even now.”

“Am I really just one of those things to you?”

She looks up to find a knowing and hopeful expression on his face. He doesn’t need to ask; Riza knows exactly what he means by asking the question that he did. But surely he knows that she needs him to take the lead—that she has kept far too many hard truths to herself for honesty to be easy?

Roy reaches for her hair without warning, raising goosebumps as his hand brushes against her nape. She is made aware again of how short her hair is now, cursing how exposed it leaves her feeling. Riza swallows hard, visibly. Somehow, it’s just the push that her nerves needed.

“You’re not,” she whispers. “You haven’t been for a long time.”

Suddenly, they’re face to face within an inch of each other. Riza leans in to close the gap, with their foreheads touching first, and then their noses. And then, only hesitation hangs between their lips. The moment stretches out with Roy taking a last lingering look at her features up close. Still, it’s he who kisses first, soft and cautious.

There are a million lines that they have crossed to find themselves here, and the kiss does not answer when or how those lines were crossed. Ishval, the move to Central, the Promised Day—there's no point in figuring it out now. It's only one of many things that they have never needed to discuss, but somehow already knew. Still, even as Riza kisses him back, Roy pulls away with a deep breath. “Is this okay?”

She responds by kissing him again and nodding eagerly—then her hands reach for him, one tugging at his button-down and the other taking his hand up the split in her skirt. Roy takes his cue; he guides her back down to the bed and her legs along the length of it. He is careful with his weight as he settles on top of her. All the while, their kisses become more fervent, greedier, until every little movement they make is lost in a flurry of reflex actions that are unrehearsed, but familiar from years of being side by side.

When he finally enters her, Riza freezes for a brief moment as she is seized by the most tantalizing waves. She helps him find his pace by moving against him as well. Slow, then a little faster, then slow again—there is a different kind of pleasure at each pace, as well as some pain to work around. They find more places to kiss each other and place their hands, and at the sound of each other's moans and shuddering breaths, she becomes wetter and he throbs in anticipation.

They settle on a certain tempo as they begin their final climax. Riza can no longer tell where it aches or stings, but the impending pleasure takes her mind off it.

“Please, Roy—please—ahh—”

Roy is moaning her name as she comes, and then again, until the waves stop and leave her spent. He thrusts a final time and then finally pulls out, deflating on top of Riza. For a minute, they are nothing but sweaty bodies, panting, and a plesant residual buzz. The wetness spreads onto the mattress. She holds him close, fingers in his hair.

He settles into the spot next to her once he recovers. Roy kisses her forehead, and then her shoulder, and then her hand—and then he doesn't let it go. She inches into him until she cannot get any closer, and they are face to face again. Riza is the first to smile. He laughs, and it's the first new thing she has seen about him in a while. The second is his voice as he asks, “For how long?”

She touches his face with her free hand. “Years.”

Roy closes his eyes solemnly and nods once against the mattress.

“Years.”

He lets go of her hand then, pulling her close instead. There will be more questions about where this leaves them, Riza is sure—many of them to be dealt with once they return to their daily working lives at Central. But while they are there, she decides that this is all that matters: she is falling asleep in her old house for the last time, and in Roy’s arms for the first.

#Fullmetal Alchemist #Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood #FMA #FMAB #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #Royai #fanfiction #fanfic #one-shot #romance #smut #lemon #cw: smut #cw: lemon #writing #written by nina

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michaeldempsey · 4 years ago

Text

The Deep Tech Deficit: Why more people aren't starting technically ambitious companies right now

This is an internal note I sent to a few investors/friends a few months ago.

Over the past 6+ months there seems to have been a noticeable drought in the creation of new deep tech or just broadly technically ambitious companies (ex-biotech). This is a sentiment that has been echo'd heavily from other investors, and has only accelerated with COVID. This became especially noticeable as startup fundraising has massively increased in adjacent areas in H2 2020.

While there isn't a data-driven reason as to why this has occurred (or if it has, indeed occurred) my working hypothesis is three-fold.

1) The maturation of platforms and no clear outbreak of new platforms

After a fervor of excitement surrounding areas like VR, ML, and Robotics from 2014-2018, we've largely seen unabashed excitement die down and be traded with hopeful skepticism. VR was too early and is looking increasingly like a platform that will be subsidized and dominated in early innings by incumbents due to heavy R&D costs.

Machine Learning has shown a commoditization curve that erodes value for much core ML development, while also has been incredibly difficult to implement at scale to build vertical specific companies that accrue value (read our 2019 annual letter for more thoughts on this). ML companies have largely turned into product-centric organizations versus true research engineering orgs, which many investors aren't quite sure how to parse mid to long-term defensibility or economics (see Martin Casado’s wonderful post).

The closest next platforms that people seem to be centering on are AR and Quantum. AR has its own difficulties, again, largely a value accrual in the short-term towards incumbents (Snap, Apple, MSFT) and at the application layer very little differentiation in technology (my view is that most enterprise AR companies are building product orgs with little technical moats and early product UI/UX that will be considered cringey in 2-4 years).

Quantum has a usability problem in addition to a timeline narrative that "this will take awhile and is incredibly capital intensive" so the only vertical use-cases we've seen really have been pharma and finance. In addition, some argue that ML algorithm development has kept pace in lockstep with quantum in reality.

So TLDR, investors need a narrative to drive them towards a Schelling point surrounding "what's next" but can't find consensus.

Again, Computational bio and further on the spectrum, biotech seems to be only area, but has debates around moats and is incredibly hard to parse and pattern match for technology investors.

Thus we default to what we know has killer cash flow dynamics in a time where TAM has materially expanded (SaaS/dev tools/infra), or follow narratives that we want to be (and may be!) true, like social being ready for VC investment again.

2) COVID & Founder Profile: “It's time to build" wasn't meant for deep tech founders.

Founding a company becomes sexy as generational startups scale and with a large amount of money in stock options, employees feel the desire to work on a new problem where they can seek a new form of status, both social and financial (early ESOP or founder title). It's no longer cool to be at the $10B+ tech company and there are hundreds of people at these companies starting funds, syndicates, and companies, so you should too.

Some subset of employees on the technical side look at internal tools that were built and democratize them (think data science teams, but there are tons of examples).

Another subset are PMs and software engineers who read Marc's essay, saw a year of remote work ahead of them and thought "great I can move out of SF, live cheaply and stomach going from $250k/year to $100k/year, and be a Founder.

These people like building software that can quickly be iterated upon and is quite realistic to raise $1-$3M to run at for 24 months. In addition, these people likely feel time pressure because multiple other teams are starting startups similar to their idea. It’s time to build because everyone is building.

Deep/frontier/emerging/whatever we call them tech founders sometimes follow a bit of a different founding story. Many have dedicated 4-10 years of their life becoming an expert in a given industry, or banging their head against the wall in academia, in pursuit of applying a technology to the real world, or bringing some other initially non-sexy technology to production level. The time pressure for these companies and founders could be viewed as less existential, as many companies aren’t speedrunning capital markets for a 12 month seed to series A sprint comprised of MVP -> early pilots -> highly extrapolated MRR/ARR.

Instead, many deep tech companies are operating with a 2-4 year R&D window, hoping to show a step function in technology reality and value creation by month 18 to raise a Series A, where they then start to either begin converting pilots, or testing hypotheses on commercialization over the next 2-4 years.

Candidly, there ain’t that many people signing up for that trajectory.

So when you're a deep tech profile founder (not to be overly prescriptive but often something like PhD/academic, eng/product lead at incumbent R&D group, Engineering at prior deep tech co, Engineering at scaling tech company with material infrastructure innovation, etc.) your calculus is a bit different.

If you're thinking about hardware, you might say, you don't want to deal with the dynamics of having possible supply chain headaches (not as much a concern today vs. 6 months ago), you don't want to deal with dynamics of really not being able to do remote work, and you know VCs are probably a bit risk averse on funding hardware at this stage as a whole. In addition, while customers might have a strong desire if you're automation focused, you won't be able to ship product for another 12 months probably so, why not just wait to see how the election/transfer of power/vaccine timeline shakes out to truly understand the economy in 2021, before starting something that could be de-railed from random economic/geopolitical policy.

Calculating the risk factor and why now of your business. The reality is, you must convince a smaller universe of investors every 12-36 months in the future you believe in and hope to pull forward, so why *now* matters more when these futures are less consensus. So just doing simple calculus, all of these things once again could lead to waiting. Bank your $300k+ salary at bigco through 2020 and see where the world is in 2021. You're operating on a true long-term time horizon so there isn't as much deep desire to uproot your life/family just to build asap.

TLDR - Deep tech founders maybe viewed as slightly less beholden to the time pressures of the market as many are solving previously unsolvable problems. I will say, many do underestimate the commoditization curve they are running up against though.

3) Burn Out

This point is not talked about enough publicly but is a consistent sentiment I’ve noticed over the past few years.

The first wave of "deep tech as a category" really hasn't created many successful businesses yet (we can debate the recent run of SPACs in deep tech on it creating successful outcomes). As you talk to more veterans in this space, many are pretty disenchanted by their past 7+ years of work.

Their friends at Uber, AirBnB, and Stripe are multi-millionaires (some on paper), same with their friends at FAMGA, and they possibly are too but don't really have anything material to point to in the real world. They’ve spent a good chunk of their professional lives to hopefully get swallowed up in an offensive acquisition (Boston Dynamics, Skybox Intelligence, Zoox, Cruise) or early commercialization that is strategic (Kiva, Six River, Blue River), and a bunch more are sitting at these companies that weren’t able to quite deliver on the future they believed in.

I think many are kind of waiting for a "moment" that feels like everything is once again possible. I don't think those moments are obvious in the present, but alas, it's a real sentiment.

I know I’ve painted a fairly jaded point of view on both sides of the market but ultimately I think there are massive tailwinds for all of tech over the next few years and believe COVID has pulled forward some futures we were expecting to take 3+ years.

I’m confident that we will see a high volume of deep tech startup creation over the coming 18 months, but as an investor with a large focus on these types of businesses, it has been interesting to hear how many have felt similarly in 2020 and thus I felt the need to litigate *why* this was happening.

#frontier technology #deep tech #venture capital #startups #robotics #ARVR

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