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brevityisnotmywit · 1 month ago

Text

Soldiers Of The Fall Series (RvB)

General Warnings: Locington, Angst

3 Fics

WAR

CW: Nightmares, Coping,

The first note is discovered when Locus is going through his current alias’ mailbox. The paper isn’t crisp, but there’s a clear exactness to the way it’s folded over itself. The same can be said of the cryptic contents within.

[‘Do you remember standing on a broken field

White crippled wings beating the sky

The harbingers of war with their nature revealed

And our chances flowing by’]

-We need to talk.

The writing is, at a glance, flawless. When Locus looks more closely, there’s a delicate tremble running throughout the pen strokes. The only thing that’s clear cut is that the bulk of it is made up of song lyrics. Probably some locals pulling a prank. A small part of him wants to save the letter, for some reason.

Locus elects to burn it instead.

---

He’s on another Earth-controlled planet when the datapad is slipped to him. The man hardly gets anything at this place, so he’s not ‘blown away’ when the text flickers to life. Unprepared, yes. Awestruck, no.

[‘If I can let the memory heal

I will remember you with me on that field

When I thought that I fought this war alone

You were there by my side on the frontline

When I thought that I fought without a cause

You gave me a reason to try ’]

-Not as hard to track as you think you are.

Well, if they found Locus predictable, they were going to learn just how elusive he could really be if he put his mind to it. The ex-mercenary leaves everything but his armor and vanishes into the night.

---

Locus has come to the understanding that his enigmatic letter writer is equally equipped to roam the universe as he himself is. The song gradually winds its was towards its end, be it on paper, digital media, or in one instance a singing-telegram service. (The poor sap almost pissed himself when Locus came to the door.)

If he can’t put a stop to it, Locus might as well put forth some effort in deciphering the meaning of it all.

While it was simple to find the song that contained the lyrics, Locus is doubtful it will help him in the long run. He’d started to pick up on a trend running through the whole debacle. Locus pulls out a pen, noting the underlined words and which notes they belonged to.

1st) WORDS- Remember, Crippled, Nature revealed, chances. NOTE- We need to talk.

2nd) WORDS- Memory, Will remember, Thought, Frontline, Thought, Try. NOTE- Not as hard to track as you think you are.

3rd) WORDS- Something new, Torn, Stunted view, Dogs, Memory heal, Remember. No note, just an outdated map of North America.

4th) SINGER- Kid handed me the directions he was given. WORDS- Thought, Alone, My side, Impossible, War, Without, Reason why. NOTE- Having a good trip through the stars?

Then the fifth arrived on a flashdrive. It was a clip of the rest of the song set to footage of Chorus. The words were superimposed over top of the video, underlines still present as in all before it.

[‘With no-one wearing their real face

It's a whiteout of emotion

And I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall

When the love in letters fade

It's like moving in slow motion

And we're already too late if we arrive at all

And then we're caught up in the arms race

An involuntary addiction

And we're shedding every value our mothers taught-]

Suddenly the video shifts to the footage of Felix monologuing to the-...no. There’s no way they could have pulled this off...could they?

[‘-So will you please show me your real face -]

Then it shows a scan of the North American map he’d been given. As the last of the words flash by, it slowly zooms in. By the time it stops, Locus feels like a fool for not connecting the dots sooner.

[-Draw the line in the horizon

Cos I only need your name to call the reasons why I fought.’]

The ending goes unheeded by Locus because the map is centered on Washington State. The theme of emphasizing terms relating to thought and memory all makes sense now. As if he was unsure if Locus had finally come to the solution himself, an all too familiar steel and yellow gauntlet slides a datapad into the feed of the map with clear coordinates. Below is a final, rather slyly worded note.

-Memory is the Key, Locus. Don’t keep making me wait.

---

When Locus approaches the rendezvous spot, he notices that someone (Presumably Washington.) had taken great care in selecting the site. It wasn’t in the middle of a field where snipers like himself would feel on edge. Yet, it isn’t caged in by the region's well-known mountain ranges. It was a fairly young forest, with trees unsuitable for gunners to take as vantage points.

Leave it to ever paranoid Washington to be sure he had at least some form of advantage, regardless of however minor it may be. Anything to compensate for that perceived lack of skill.

Speaking of the agent, Locus hears a shrill whistle and whips around. Washington is beckoning the cloaked man over, seemingly uncaring if it looked like he was waving at thin air to anyone who didn’t know better.

Locus hesitates before dropping his invisibility and it takes a shamefully large amount of restraint to suppress a childish pout. “I am unsure why I even bother at this point, if you just continue to spot me.”

"Can't be sure myself. " Washington’s voice sounds rough, like the bad end of a faulty transmission. It couldn’t just be the helmet to blame, not when Locus had witnessed the crimson spraying from the agent’s throat first hand.

Locus was pushing A’rynasea as fast as it could manage with one hand. The other was occupied with trying to keep pressure on Washington’s wounds. The agent lets out a wet sounding whine, struggling to move. Before Locus can push him back down, he makes out the man trying to speak.

“Mn? Mhn?” There’s not much beyond that, as the hospital looms ever closer in Locus’ line of sight

Locus hid, unseen by the staff and listened to what the doctor was going to report to the Reds and Blues.

“So he’s getting the hang of that new vocalizer I whipped up for him, now that he’s coming around from the anesthesia. Hey, Parker, did you catch the one that dropped him here?”

The medi-vac pilot glances at her like this was a frankly silly thing to ask, and shakes his head.

“Well that sure is a shame, huh? He keeps asking for us to go find Maine and wants to know what the deal with his new armor is!”

Locus freezes.

“Buuuut, he’s also having an ‘Autotune fight with the Autobots’ in his words, so it’s probably nothing!”

“Hey, Earth to Locus? You went all quiet. Not even your broody kind, either.” Washington has moved right up to the edges of Locus’ massive personal space bubble.

The former mercenary clears his throat, still coming off a touch sheepish. “My apologies, Agent Washington-”

“You know it’s okay to use Wash, right?”

Locus huffs a bit, looking off into the forest. “Why are we here?”

“Because you saved me.” The freelancer leans on a tree trunk, visor not hiding how he intensely watched Locus’ every move. “I’d like a chance to say thanks.”

“You tailed me across the cosmos to say that?”

Washington laughs like a worn down toy’s voice box. (Likely because he now spoke with one.) It wasn’t like the old footage Locus had snatched from the PFL servers. Before he would laugh in this breathy way that sounded like sunshine felt. Locus tries to shake that comparison from his mind, frowning.

“Of course I didn’t. You forgot to yank the standard issue GPS out of that new helmet of yours. Simmons gave me a hand in tracking it. I’d send you something once you stayed put for more than a month.”

“Fuck.” Locus hissed to himself. He was getting lazy now that Fel-...hmph.

Washington shrugs. “I’ve also got an offer for you.”

Locus waves in a ‘well don’t let me stop you.’ way.

“I’ve got a place you can use. I don’t stay there, so I want you to have it.” The agent kicks over a rock at his feet.

Locus scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t need your charity. I’m not poor by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Did I call you poor?” the older man challenges. “I’d feel better knowing you’re nearby.”

The ex-mercenary sighs, turning on his heel. “Is that all, Agent Washington?”

“For now. Here.” Washington chucks a ring of keys to Locus. “I know you have my contact info, so keep in touch, yeah?”

“We will see. Goodbye, Agent.”

“See you soon.”

---

Locus found the cabin convenient. He had no other reasons for why he stayed as often as he did. (He had many reasons.) It was well stocked with dry firewood, electricity, and a spacious kitchen to make it comfortable for extended use. The first time Locus wandered into the house, he was taken aback that the fridge was brimming with his favored foods.

Locus likes to think he’s not a fool. He’s mulling over the discovery in his mind when he hears the distinctive crunch of tires on snow. In an instant, he’s cloaked and slinks out the back.

There’s a beat up SUV out front and it doesn’t take a sniper's eye to spot Washington in civilian clothes sliding out of the cab. Locus silently stalks around so Washington is sandwiched between himself and his cabin. Locus knows better. Locus knows the agent is too aware of his surroundings, but still he reaches out for the freelancer’s throat as he checks his phone.

Just before he can make contact, “Evening, Loc’s.”

Locus goes still on the snowy drive. Silence reigns for many long moments. “Why are you doing this.”

Washington glances over his shoulder at the invisible sniper. “Because I’ve been there, Locus.”

“Not your problem.”

There’s a scoff, wispy clouds escaping Washington’s teeth. “I don’t care. You need someone on your side. I know I did.”

That gives Locus pause. His silhouette shimmers before fading into nothing. With some thought, he settles he hand hovering near Washington’s chin onto his shoulder. This soldier was watching out for him, the sheep standing guard over the sleeping wolf.

Locus finds the attention is not unwelcome.

---

Washington turns up a few weeks later, one small bag at his side. “I just need some time off from the Reds and Blues. Let me go set up the futon, can you get the fire going? A storm’s rolling in sometime tonight.”

Locus nods quietly, trying to stamp out the panic bubbling up into his throat. ‘Washington isn’t going to care about seeing your face.’ He scolds himself. ‘You get to see his face, it’s only fair.’

There’s a pathetic, rusty shriek of hinges when Washington pulls at the frame of the longer of the two couches. After a minor struggle, it gives up, flopping open The freelancer rasps out a chuckle. “Y’know, this is the only thing I have from before I enlisted. Kept it in a storage unit we all shared during PFL.” Something shifts in his tone so subtly it almost went over Locus’ head. “Everything here used to be in it. I couldn’t stand to see it rotting away in there.”

Locus glances around with a deeper understanding, and things make a bit more sense. “Are you willing to elaborate?” He asks while striking a match to set the tinder alight.

The futon creaks loudly when Washington sits on it. “Yeah, I can. The stuff in the kitchen came from pretty much everyone outside of Tex. Even the freelancers the Director didn’t give a shit about, Like West and Indi’s crew. The table was C.T.’s that’s why it’s covered up. She used to stab the shit out of it when she was learning knife skills. The butcher block is hers too, but she took good care of it for obvious reasons. The bed’s Carolina’s, didn’t even remember we had that unit when I asked to go get everything from it.” The older man smiles softly, staring up at the ceiling.

“York had the barstools, the chairs at the table were Wyoming’s. Florida had the other couch, and a few of the quilts. The deck chairs were from Illinois. North had a couple bookshelves. South had the footlockers and the old ass TV.” Washington's voice wavers, going faint. “...Maine had the rest of the blankets and the dressers.”

Locus resolutely focuses on arranging the logs, watching how the sparks swirl throughout the hearth.

“You look like him…” is whispered, as if the freelancer is scared to admit to it. “...but your skin is darker, less scars, more hair. Your eyes, they’re the biggest difference. His were like those little bits of amber they sell at museums.” Washington's voice trembles. “Sorry…”

Locus shakes his head. “Don’t be. It’s quite apparent he meant a great deal to you, so I consider it a compliment.” He sneaks a glance over his shoulder.

Washington has thrown an arm over his eyes, but the corners of his mouth draw up into a wistful smile. “That’s what I was going for with it.”

The fire pops, and the conversation ends.

---

Locus is startled awake by a panicked, broken scream. When he throws open the door, pistol in hand, he sees Washington arching off the futon, fingers clawing at the back of his neck.

“Agent Washington.” The ex-mercenary tries, stalking over to the freelancer. “Agent Washington!”

The noises that tumble from Washington can’t be classified as words. In the dark of night, it’s all too clear how lasting the damage had been. Locus can’t let this continue, lest Washington lose what little recovery he had. The man strides forward, grabbing an arm as it swings out without a thought.

Washington’s eyes fly open, still foggy with sleep. He expertly breaks Locus’ grip before twisting the younger man’s arm violently.

On reflex, Locus jerks away, thankful that Washington didn’t have the leverage or brute strength to snap his wrist. “ Wash! ”

The freelancer stills, blinking up at him in confusion. “Who?” He sounds even more off than before.

“You. I was speaking to you.”

“Use my name then, dipshit. You the new rookie, or something? Name’s Church, so get it right next time.” Washington scowls at him in a way that is very unlike himself.

Locus wished he was less understanding of what was going on, but the freelancer wasn’t the only one with wicked night terrors. In that mindset, anyone could lose themselves. The key difference was that Locus didn’t have someone else's memories to sift through. Maybe he could help somehow.

“No, I’m not a new recruit, and your name is not Church. You go by Washington. You are in your cabin in the middle of a snow storm.” Locus is treading carefully, wary of how the older man would react.

Washington just searches him with a haughty air of suspicion. “I’m just expected to buy into that?”

On a hunch, Locus points to the mirror hanging behind the living room. “Look at yourself, if you don’t.”

Washington tsk’s, lazily throwing a look over his shoulder, then double takes. “I-what the fuck?” Then he looks at his hands, flexing them many times, like they’re a puzzle in need of solving. Eventually, Locus can see the haze dissipate from his eyes. Once more he searches Locus for something only Washington knows.

“I had a nightmare, didn’t I?”

Locus nods, stopping Washington, predicting his reaction. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m glad I could help out.”

In the dark cabin, Washington looks so very small. His eyes are watery, catching the barest hints of light. “...Will you stay with me?”

There’s not even a fraction of hesitation before Locus says, “Of course.” He sits carefully at the edge of the futon, not expecting a trembling hand to close around his arm.

“Thank you.”

Sharing a bed with Washington is so fundamentally different from sharing a bed with Felix, it gives Locus emotional whiplash. Felix usually needled him relentlessly, only stopping when he had what he wanted from Locus. (Sex, usually.) When he eventually did sleep, Felix as always jabbing with an elbow or a knee, all points and hard edges.

Washington allowed Locus the space he always craved. All he seemed to require was to hold onto Locus’ hand until he fell back to sleep. That was some how intensely more intimate than anything Felix had ever done to Locus. Maybe it was that Washington let Locus decide for himself. It bothered Locus too much to think about it.

---

Locus learned many things from the year that followed.

Locus always felt the cabin was too big when Wash wasn’t visiting.

Wash showed up every other Sunday with fresh food.

Locus worried more than he should about Wash’s safety.

Wash had a caffeine problem.

Locus had adjusted to civilian life better than Felix said he could.

Wash liked to sit on the same couch as Locus, but didn’t touch without his permission.

Locus liked how Wash curled against his side when he did give permission.

Wash wanted to help him get better, but allowed Locus to decide if he was alright with going to a therapist.

Locus realized he might have gotten in too deep when he stopped calling Wash ‘Agent Washington’ in his head.

Wash liked Locus for the ways he wasn’t Maine, rather than liking him for the ways they were the same.

Locus liked Wash. He liked him quite a lot.

CHILDREN OF THE SUN

To say Locus was apprehensive about meeting the Reds and Blues was technically accurate. Accurate in the same way that a rocket could be called a big firecracker. There was a reason the ex-mercenary left after making certain that Wash was safe. He wasn't a foolish man by any means. After the clusterfuck of Chorus he had no intentions of ever contacting them. Life had other ideas, clearly.

Locus isn't sure why his ship started malfunctioning when it had, but it led him to Grif babbling like a lunatic to a set of sports equipment painted in a childish manner. When they'd taken off, the endless stream of questions about Locus’ intentionally secretive life began. Things the man never wanted to think about again under normal circumstances.

They meet at a coffee house that is a favorite haunt of Wash. He'd cashed in a favor and after it had officially closed for the night, the Reds and Blues were huddled inside to avoid the brutal January weather. Outside, Locus can see them from the window, able to mostly guess on their identities. Sarge was fairly obvious with his bright red polo and buzzcut. The tall one with thick, messy curls must be Caboose. Simmons arm gave him away, despite the long-sleeved sweater doing it's damndest to hide the well oiled chrome, though the long braid trailing over his shoulder was a surprise. Tucker was the one who tried to spend as little time as possible in his armor, so Locus was quite familiar with his cropped hair and dimples. Carolina was almost exactly how she had been in Freelancer. Shorter hair, but still red as fire. Grif was snoring away on a couch, with who Locus thinks must be the medic and some fellow in a pink parka.

He's startled from the old habit of memorising people's faces by a hand slipping into his. Wash glances up at Locus with one of those tired, lopsided smiles he seems prone to.

“C’mon. Let's get this done.” The older man inclines his head to the door, gently tugging Locus along.

The door chimes when Wash opens it and everyone's attention is on the pair in an instant. Locus’ lingering doubts snap at him. Mentally he chides himself, “ You agreed to this. You promised no armor, remember? Wash is right there, you’ll be fine.”

“What the fuck , why is Locus a trashy romance novel beefcake?!” Tucker balks, nearly spilling his drink over the table.

The room erupts in a mix of cackling and irritated demands for silence. Locus clutches Wash’s hand firmly, his desire to remain hidden growing into a nigh unbearable need. A sharp whistle slices neatly through the din.

“All of you shut up and pay attention.” Wash rasps irritably. “Locus isn't here for you to gawk at. You asked to meet him, so get on with it.” The Freelancer's calloused fingers tighten around Locus’ palm. At some point he had placed himself between the ex-mercenary and his comrades.

The sheep diligently watches over the wolf.

“Fine-” Tucker sniffs dismissively. “-how about what the hell were you thinking, running off like that?”

“I don’t-” Locus tries before Sarge snappily adds on.

“It ain't rocket science, kid. Y’ could’a stuck around fer a few days, at least. Hell, what if we needed yer help with Susie Spec’ Ops’ over there?” He grumbles, nodding to Wash.

The man in question looks offended, opening his mouth to interject when Caboose cuts him off.

“Oh oh! Can I also have another hug??”

Everyone throws dirty looks at the Blue trooper.

“So Tucker can call him a book but I don't get a nice hug?” Caboose pouts dramatically.

They drop the subject. Grif rolls over, unkempt hair flopping into his eyes. “Sup Locs. Sorry I went nuts on you before... actually I'm not, but whatever.” He shrugs a shoulder. “You probably do owe Simmons a 'good job’ since he helped Wash track your dumb ass.”

Locus glances over at Simmons, finding he isn't the only one who wasn't thrilled with the whole situation. The thin soldier wrings the tail end of his braid, practically jumping out of his skin at the mention of his name.

“I-It was no big deal, don't worry about it!” He stammers rapidly, shoulders hunching, giving the impression that he was sinking back into his turtleneck.

“It was a big deal, nerd!” Grif retorts, pushing away from the lumpy overstuffed sofa, arms folded across his chest. “You kept bitching about how it was gonna be a pain with our old tech!”

Before another squabble can break out, Wash lets go of Locus’ hand to intervene. There’s a clear exhaustion threaded along the bow of his spine. He’s holding his arms out, glaring at both of them. “Don’t start. I need everyone to cool it.” The Freelancer drags his fingers through his hair, sighing. “Let Locus get a word in too. This isn’t an intervention, it’s a conversation.”

The medic pipes up from the far end of the sofa. “This is pretty normal for us, remember?”

“Of course he remembers, what a stupid question.” Locus thinks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He’d grown used to Wash’s personality when it was just the two of them in that cabin. He wasn’t like the overly intense facade Locus had observed in the limited recordings of his time chasing the Meta. Not the intimidating soldier that had been sent after Epsilon, or the (admittedly lovable) goofball from the Freelancer era. He was quiet but shouted at the appliances when they didn’t work well. (The oven had been the target of many rants.) He didn’t sleep well but would pass out on Locus’ lap when they occasionally watched movies. He made dry-jokes, chuckling to himself quietly. He certainly wasn’t a pushover. They had argued like anyone with their histories would. Wash could be a force to reckon with if he was so inclined.

Yet here in this little room, he seemed to wilt. It was as though the intensity of these people made him lesser somehow. He didn’t feel able to fly his true colours. A memory flickers, triggering many more.

“I just need some time off from the Reds and Blues.”

“Hey, sorry, needed a bit of quiet time.”

“I’m fine, Car’s just...y’know.”

"I can't sleep, can we go do something?"

"I needed a peaceful place."

It’s just enough to push the ex-mercenary to speak.

Locus clears his throat, squaring his shoulders. Wash’s head snaps up, eyeing the ex-mercenary cautiously. “Normal changes sometimes. It isn’t exactly...efficient to argue all the time.”

“Part of our charm, numbnuts.” Tucker snorts, a snide smirk on his face. “Did you miss the memo?”

Locus wants to punch something.

He takes a breath instead. “It’s not the most charming habit, if you want my honesty.”

“Yeah, because killing people totally charms the underpants off’a folks!” The one in the pink parka taunts.

That thread holding Wash in check snaps in an instant. “Donut!”

The blonde jumps, upending his mug onto the floor.

“All of you can say what you want but Locus is trying. He’s known war just as long as we have, if not longer.” The Freelancer starts pacing (A nervous habit.) around an empty table. “We’ve all been assholes to each other so what makes him any different than me?”

“You weren’t a mercenary.” Carolina coldly states from the booth she’s taken over.

“I-” Wash stumbles over the tip of his boot, eyes a fraction too wide.

“You didn’t perpetuate a planet wide civil war, or spring a prison ship-” She calmly adds a finger for each reason, ignoring the way Wash tries to interject. “-You didn’t plot an elaborate trap to kill our troops, didn’t murder them, and you didn’t betray your own-”

The sheep had kept the wolf safe for so long now. Time to return the favor.

Locus steps between the two, putting a hand on Wash’s shoulder. “If I recall properly, Project Freelancer had just as bloody a record as I myself did. You may not have sent a government into death throes as was done to Chorus, but you did ruin countless lives. Wash and yourself are evidence of that fact.”

Carolina levels him with a glare, cheeks darkening. She starts to speak, but Locus isn’t exactly invested in hearing out her predictably fragile argument.

“From my research of the footage, you raided many innocent cargo vessels without thinking twice. Orders are orders . Right Agent Carolina?” Locus drones, brushing hair from his eyes. “While it was by no means as elaborate as what you’re alluding to, you and Wash have both done harm to these simulation troopers. If you want to argue that I’m wrong, I have numerous instances I can bring up. Though they weren’t fully successful, I have a remarkably clear clip of Wash shooting one of the Red troopers point blank in the stomach.”

“Oh yeahhhh, you did try to kill me Washy! I almost forgot about that…” Donut chuckles, scratching at his belly through the down coat.

Locus wasn’t sure why he didn’t remember this being the same soldier but it does give his words a solid weight with which to fight. Felix used to claim the best way to win an argument was when someone on the opposing side willingly vocalized you had a point.

“A point-” He claimed. “-is how a knife so easily slides into a beating heart.”

Not everything Felix had taught him was bad, it seemed.

“Maine.”

All eyes are on Wash again. Carolina blinks owlishly, tilting her head. “Wash what-”

“I betrayed Maine. I had a chance to save him, and I didn’t. I saved myself.” Wash glances over at the Reds and Blues. “I saved them. Not before I betrayed them, though. I took the offer that I was given for a chance at freedom. I turned on them, and…” He bites his lip, gaze drifting aside. “In all honesty, I didn’t feel bad about doing it. It gave me an insight into how the world really works. Everyone can be good and bad. They’re not a mutually exclusive thing. The Reds and Blues aren’t heroes, but they changed a lot of things for the better. They can be douchebags but also save a planet. I can be the mean Freelancer but also try and support these troops because I don’t have to pick one. I just have to adjust to what they need me to be. Maine wasn’t a monster but he made a choice at the end. I made my choice.”

Wash exhales, the very sound itself laced with deeply repressed hurt. “We promised we’d stop looking back Car’. That we would better ourselves. That’s why we all left. We needed time to be ourselves again. Not just soldiers, or war heros, or guns for hire. Just...us.” He looks up at Locus, a fleeting smile crosses his face. “ All of us deserve another chance.”

Locus stills, glancing to Carolina. He’s not expecting how steady his voice is when he starts. “I’m here to make amends. If that means you choose not to speak to me after this, that’s acceptable. All I need from you is to promise me you won’t intentionally prevent my goal from being reached.”

The room is by no means silent, Grif ‘whispering’ to Simmons, Caboose humming absentmindedly, Tucker sighing, Sarge grumbling a string of curses. It’s the quiet that Locus has come to associate with these troops. They always had something going on, but the fact that they thought to lower their typical volume meant quiet to them.

Carolina huffs softly, thumb running over a small metal object tucked into her palm. She looks up, sharp green eyes catching the light from the lamps overhead. “Fine. If you really want to do better, I won’t be the one to mess it up.”

On a rare impulsive whim, Locus asks, “I’d also like it if you tried to work on your relationship with Wash. He seems to almost cower when it comes to you. He deserves better than just playing dumb to avoid your temper.”

Wash startles under his palm, stammering. “I mean I-I don’t think you’re...I don’t-...uh…” He fidgets with the edge of his jacket until Locus gently nudges him forward, yet still keeping a protective grip on his shoulder. “I mean, playing dumb is kinda harsh, but Locus has a point.”

Hopefully the point hit home for once.

“We’re equals in this Car’. I’m all too quick to just give you the right of way because of the Freelancer days. I shouldn’t roll over and let you take responsibility for all our choices because that’s not how communication works. There’s only so much I can do, though. We should all feel free to ask for things. That we can speak up when we feel we’re being neglected. Car’...it’s time to let us grow up. We’re not kids any more.”

There’s an overly dramatic gasp from Caboose. “Whaaat?! You two were brother and sister this whole time?” His voice turns smug. “I knew it allll along, I said you know they don’t look it but I’m telling you Washingtub is Carol-Timer’s baby brother!”

Wash yelps, “Wait, what?! No! It was a metaphor, we’re not related! Also I’m older than her by a long shot!”

Caboose just keeps grinning and repeating, “I called it.”

The rest of the night went better, by the end Simmons had rigged a monitor to run some terrible movie called Thankskilling which had the room erupting in horrified laughter and repeated cries of ‘WHAT?!’. Wash ended up taking Caboose aside to make hot chocolate and they emerged with a stack of paper and a fistful of crayons from the depths of the kitchen. A clever ploy to avoid traumatizing the Blue soldier.

By the time the credits rolled, Simmons wrestled the controller from Grif threatening to break his arm if he didn’t let them change channels. Considering the power in his cybernetic limb, it wasn’t the emptiest of promises. Wash drifted back over with Caboose in his wake. The young man excitedly shows Locus a crude (yet oddly charming) scribble of what he claimed to be all of them. The ex-mercenary takes it gently, taking it all in.

The biggest was Caboose who was the only one who had hair of them all. He was labeled as both the ‘best!!’ and ‘me!’. To his right the medic and Red team. The medic (Locus really needed to get his name at some point) was in his signature purple, smiling with an outdated headband that Locus is fairly sure was worn by dentists rather than doctors. He was described with ‘nice!’. Then Donut, grin breaking from the confines of his face and hands thrown over his head, the descriptor this time is ‘hapy’. Shouting next to him must be Sarge in fire engine red. His head is square for some reason, and he’s noted for being ‘angry’. At the bottom right corner are Grif and Simmons, the former of which looks like he swallowed a balloon, the latter with one green eye. Surprising attention to detail there. When he takes another look he realizes Grif seems to be kissing Simmons. If they thought they were being subtle, they failed to fool even Caboose’s notice. Grif is simply stated to be ‘fat’ and Simmons is ‘smart!’.

The rest are to Caboose’s left, starting with Carolina. She’s got a rather grumpy look on with exaggerated eyelashes and her hands on her hips. At her feet is the word ‘mean’. Then to her left is Tucker who is either doing his recently named “finger guns” or flipping someone off. Hard to tell. In faint crayon above him he’s credited with being ‘dum’. With his grey body and yellow limbs, Wash looks almost depressed compared to the rest of the bunch. He’s just named ‘tub!’ rather than any actual description like the others. Oh, Locus was part of this too. His arms and legs are a forest green along with the detail of his scar. The rest of him is grey with an irritated look on his face. Above him in grey is the word ‘scary’. Below him in green however, it says ‘hug’.

When he squints he realizes he’s holding Wash’s hand. Maybe Caboose was more observant than he gave him credit for. “You...you did a good job.” Locus says finally.

Caboose lights up light a firecracker, bouncing on his feet before delivering a crushing hug to the ex-mercenary. He can hear the room burst out into laughter, even catching the wheezy edge of Wash’s own chuckles.

“Okay, Caboose, he needs some air now.” Wash swallows another giggle fit, patting at his shoulder.

When he’s released Locus knows everyone’s staring. They keep staring and they don’t scowl like they did before. With an unusually nervous chuckle he shrugs at the rest.

“It’s not exactly the first time he’s done that to me.”

FALSE KINGS

CW: Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts

He's startled from the old habit of memorising people's faces by a hand slipping into his. Wash glances up at Locus with one of those tired, lopsided smiles he seems prone to.

“C’mon. Let's get this done.” The older man inclines his head to the door, gently tugging Locus along.

“What the fuck , why is Locus a trashy romance novel beefcake?!” Tucker balks, nearly spilling his drink over the table.

The sheep diligently watches over the wolf.

“Fine-” Tucker sniffs dismissively. “-how about what the hell were you thinking, running off like that?”

“I don’t-” Locus tries before Sarge snappily adds on.

“It ain't rocket science, kid. Y’ could’a stuck around fer a few days, at least. Hell, what if we needed yer help with Susie Spec’ Ops’ over there?” He grumbles, nodding to Wash.

The man in question looks offended, opening his mouth to interject when Caboose cuts him off.

“Oh oh! Can I also have another hug??”

Everyone throws dirty looks at the Blue trooper.

“So Tucker can call him a book but I don't get a nice hug?” Caboose pouts dramatically.

“I-It was no big deal, don't worry about it!” He stammers rapidly, shoulders hunching, giving the impression that he was sinking back into his turtleneck.

“It was a big deal, nerd!” Grif retorts, pushing away from the lumpy overstuffed sofa, arms folded across his chest. “You kept bitching about how it was gonna be a pain with our old tech!”

The medic pipes up from the far end of the sofa. “This is pretty normal for us, remember?”

“I just need some time off from the Reds and Blues.”

“Hey, sorry, needed a bit of quiet time.”

“I’m fine, Car’s just...y’know.”

"I can't sleep, can we go do something?"

"I needed a peaceful place."

It’s just enough to push the ex-mercenary to speak.

Locus clears his throat, squaring his shoulders. Wash’s head snaps up, eyeing the ex-mercenary cautiously. “Normal changes sometimes. It isn’t exactly...efficient to argue all the time.”

“Part of our charm, numbnuts.” Tucker snorts, a snide smirk on his face. “Did you miss the memo?”

Locus wants to punch something.

He takes a breath instead. “It’s not the most charming habit, if you want my honesty.”

“Yeah, because killing people totally charms the underpants off’a folks!” The one in the pink parka taunts.

That thread holding Wash in check snaps in an instant. “Donut!”

The blonde jumps, upending his mug onto the floor.

“You weren’t a mercenary.” Carolina coldly states from the booth she’s taken over.

“I-” Wash stumbles over the tip of his boot, eyes a fraction too wide.

The sheep had kept the wolf safe for so long now. Time to return the favor.

Carolina levels him with a glare, cheeks darkening. She starts to speak, but Locus isn’t exactly invested in hearing out her predictably fragile argument.

“Oh yeahhhh, you did try to kill me Washy! I almost forgot about that…” Donut chuckles, scratching at his belly through the down coat.

“A point-” He claimed. “-is how a knife so easily slides into a beating heart.”

Not everything Felix had taught him was bad, it seemed.

“Maine.”

All eyes are on Wash again. Carolina blinks owlishly, tilting her head. “Wash what-”

Hopefully the point hit home for once.

Wash yelps, “Wait, what?! No! It was a metaphor, we’re not related! Also I’m older than her by a long shot!”

Caboose just keeps grinning and repeating, “I called it.”

When he squints he realizes he’s holding Wash’s hand. Maybe Caboose was more observant than he gave him credit for. “You...you did a good job.” Locus says finally.

“Okay, Caboose, he needs some air now.” Wash swallows another giggle fit, patting at his shoulder.

When he’s released Locus knows everyone’s staring. They keep staring and they don’t scowl like they did before. With an unusually nervous chuckle he shrugs at the rest.

“It’s not exactly the first time he’s done that to me.”

FALSE KINGS

CW: Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts

Locus knows something's a miss when he hears the rusty shriek of the brakes on Wash’s SUV that Monday morning. The freelancer should be at his job by now. Wash was well known to never miss a day.

The engine cuts off and the car door slams. Heavy work boots crunch over the gravel that makes up the driveway. Wash shoulders open the screen door, glancing around the cabin. (The habit of checking for threats still stuck with the stout man.)

With no words, the older man strides over to his well loved coffee machine. He gets it set up to brew espresso, drumming his fingers on the countertop.

The stormy silence reigns until the shadows on the porch grow long, hints of starlight peeking through the blue sky.

“I lost my job.”

Locus glances up from the fruit he’s slicing for a pie. “...How?”

“Had a flashback. Thought my supervisor was the Director. Broke his jaw.” Wash grumbles, opening a tin of pain relieving gel.

Locus makes his way over, taking the container before the freelancer can dip his fingers into it. The ex-mercenary drags a thumb over the surface of the balm to work into the shoulders of his boyf-

The thought skids off the rails. He had never considered Wash as a boyfriend, a partner, even with the clear relationship they had. Was Locus allowed to think like that? It makes his chest ache as he returns to the task at hand.

Rough fingers massage scarred, tense shoulders. The distinctive smell spreads throughout the cabin.

They don't speak for the rest of the night.

---

Wash has a whiteboard because his therapist insisted that it was a good idea for Wash to write his thoughts after an episode. The only times Locus saw it being used was when Wash woke from nightmares. (Often writing as if he was someone else.)

The words he finds this morning sends a stab of familiarity through his heart.

[Getting lost singing their song.

Caught up in, all I've done.

It's all I know , but not what I need.

Cut by my love, cut till I bleed. ]

Locus takes a photo of it on instinct. The next time he walks by, the board is clean. The ex-mercenary gets the feeling that this was just the start of something new.

---

A month passes, and Wash gets a new job. He’s there for two days before he’s fired again. The company refuses to pay him, and Locus knows all too well that the seething freelancer won't take the matter to court.

That night, Wash wakes up, referring to Locus as Maine for three hours.

The whiteboard gives up more when Locus gets up at noon to make pancakes for lunch.

[So I want to run to your shelter tonight.

Run to your shelter tonight.

United in silent resistance,

Of bowing to false kings.

So let me run to your shelter tonight.

Run from this meaningless pantomime.

I'll swallow my pride, give up the pretense,

Of bowing to false kings .]

Locus takes another picture and starts his motorcycle.

The tall man seeks out Tucker, because he knows the man's crude jokes are a thin veil for how deeply he cares about the freelancer.

The sim trooper gnaws at his thumb as he reads. “Loc’s this is like...this shit scares me.”

For once, Locus wholeheartedly agrees with Tucker.

“I need you to help me find a decent place for him to work. Some place that helps veterans. You know the town better.” Locus pleads softly. “I need- no, Wash needs all the assistance we can offer.”

Tucker nods, eyes glinting with steely determination. “I've got this.”

---

It's a week before the next part shows up.

[ Bought their smiles, liquid and smooth.

Took their words, for the truth .

Edge of light and shade.

My broken soul , once more enslaved -]

It trails back into the chorus, and Locus goes looking for a pen. He still has his notes from the first time Wash used music to relay a message. He already knows that the tone had taken a far darker tone this time.

Lost, All I've done, I know, what I need, I bleed.

Want to run, tonight, run, tonight, silent, false kings, run, tonight, run, I'll, give up, false kings.

Bought, took, the truth, edge of, shade, soul, enslaved, let me run, tonight, run, I see, I see, end.

Alarmingly when Locus walks into the living room, there's more scrawled across the windows. His heart sinks like a stone.

When, cold blood runs, without grace, do I, soar? Need, your, new ways, end, wars, I'm yours.

Want to run to you-, run, tonight, united, kings, let me run, from, my pride.

Locus abandons his notebook, going to search the bedroom. He can hear Wash's rattling snores from where he stands, fear lacing through him like puppet strings that compel him to check Wash's vitals. Regardless of the knowledge that the freelancer could, and would likely see him as a threat in Wash’s sleep addled mind. The ex-mercenary doesn't care if he gets busted up as long as Wash is safe.

The instant the door latch clicks, the snoring stops. Rough muttering is muffled by the bed clothes.

Locus goes to draw back the quilt and can't quite avoid a strike to his face. It's a glancing blow, but it still stings like a bitch.

Wash pauses, blinking a few times before squinting at Locus. Guilt sinks into his frame. “Shit, I'm sorry Loc’s…”

Locus shrugs lamely. “I'm well aware of the risks of startling you. Especially from sleep.”

“Oh...why did you wake me up?”

The ex-mercenary takes a breath to soothe the tremble threatening to creep into his voice. “The writing.”

Wash sighs in a way not in line with a man being confronted over dark thoughts. “Did I do more?”

Locus nods. “You moved to the windows this time.”

“Son of a bitch.” Wash grouses, dragging a hand down his face. “Sorry, I'll go clea-”

“I didn't wake you up to make you clean up. I'm worried that…” the tall man stills, biting his lip. “The words you underlined this time paint a... significantly darker picture than before.”

Wash stops mid-stride. He stares up at Locus, so intense it's overwhelming. The younger man looks away from the other. “...You think I'm gonna kill myself.”

There's no question to be found. A cold, hard statement of facts.

Locus holds out the notebook, still unable to meet Wash's eyes.

The freelancer skims the page, shoulders slumping. “...Locus, you know I'd never go through with it.”

“What I know, is that nothing is certain. I... I love you too much to just ignore something like this.”

Wash's cheeks flush darker, head ducking down. “I-I mean, when you put it like that... yeah, it makes sense.” With a tiny snippet of static from his vodacoder, the older man adds, “Thanks for looking out for me. I love you too. Sorry if I’m bad at showing it.”

“You’re not bad.” Locus insists. “You show affection how you feel is right. You’re fine.”

Wash hesitates before holding out his arms to ask for an embrace.

Locus pulls the freelancer close, holding fast to him. Wash’s hair smells like the regulation toiletries that he must have stashed from the years of military service. Maybe he even ordered it online for the sake of consistency. The older man tucks his head under Locus’ chin, evening out his breaths. His ribs expand and contract smoothly under Locus’ palms.

It’s a nice sort of calm that settles over them after that lingering fear. Then Locus’ phone shrieks out some bland, royalty-free nonsense.

Jolting, Locus extracts himself from their embrace. Glaring at the screen, it kindly informs him that Tucker is calling. Locus swipes the answer button, responding with a snappy, “What is it.”

“I found Wash’s dream job, and they’re hiring.”

---

Leave it to Tucker to find the one cafe Wash didn’t know about. It goes by the title of Research Roasts. Apparently some big-shot Smithsonian scientist bought the building where the cafe was now located, then badgered her friend into taking his coffee house idea seriously. Low overhead in a high class part of town would do that to most people. Totally free overhead would get just about anyone to bite.

The real kicker for Locus was they only hired veterans. Especially ones suffering from mental issues after their experiences with the war. It sounds better with every word out of Tucker’s mouth.

They get Wash an interview with the promise that Locus would get to accompany him as well. Whatever it took to pull Wash from his most recent spiral was perfectly acceptable.

The place is what one expects at first. Posters with microscopes and technobabble, the table of elements and beakers. Science stuff. Yet when Locus takes a closer look, he also sees diagrams of many standard issue firearms from the war.

The man behind the counter is slender, with fluffy dark hair piled into a messy bun. He’s got what Locus likes to call ‘Felix Syndrome.’ Basically, when someone looks perfectly normal, attractive, or otherwise harmless. Yet something gives away a glimpse of something altogether dangerous, if not downright lethal.

“You’re the ones that called, yeah?” Even his voice is perfectly soothing, but leaves a lingering sense of paranoia. Sibley (that’s what his name tag says.) nods towards the back. “Go on. Boss knows you’ll be dropping by soon.”

Wash mutters a nervous thanks, whereas Locus gives a simple nod to the mysterious cashier as they pass.

Everyone they pass by either has Felix Syndrome, or looks like they’d fit right in with Wash and Locus’ crowd. Tired eyes with exhausted smiles. They were, however, pretty clearly happy. Happier than Wash had been for many months.

They reach the door mentioned in the email and Wash’s hand hovers an inch or two away from the wood. He swallows around the lump in his throat. Locus takes his free hand and squeezes it.

“I’m here.” He offers gently.

Wash knocks.

Instead of being told to come in, Locus hears the squeak of a chair, leading to uneven footsteps. The door swings open, and Locus’ spine stiffens.

Siris. Mason fucking Wu himself is looking back with an equally startled expression.

“I-...Locus?” Siris whispers just loud enough for his former teammate to hear.

There’s a nod that straddles the line between polite acknowledgement and nervous tick. “Siris.”

Wash looks justifiably baffled, but Siris just brushes the hair from his eyes and beckons the two in. When they do, the door clicks shut.

“We worked together.” Locus answers Wash’s question before his partner can even ask it.

“Oh.” Is the only reaction Wash gives, taking a seat in the nearest chair.

“You…” Siris starts, trying to focus. “You must be Wash.” He extends a hand. “Mason Wu. I’ve been accused of running the show here.”

That does earn a weak chuckle from Wash, though it doesn’t get a smile. He does take Siris’ hand, shaking firmly. “Hope the rumors are true.” He offers dryly.

Siris smirks at that, sitting at the chair behind the plain desk. He’s still warily keeping Locus in sight. In all honesty, Locus is doing the exact same thing.

As they get down to brass tacks, Locus actually finds himself desperately hoping Wash gets this job. He knows Siris. Siris is the sort of man who would get through to the paranoid freelancer just by chatting. He was who taught Locus many of the essential tools that he used to keep Wash happy and healthy.

Two wolves circling the sheep. Both know their own motives. They haven’t a clue of the other’s thoughts.

They speak.

---

It seems to go well. From where Locus sits that is. He’s almost certain Wash got the job. Before they can go, Siris grabs Locus’ arm.

“I’m trusting you, Ortez.” he whispers sternly. “Don’t make me regret that.”

“Funny. I was going to say something similar.” Locus realizes that that may have come off as sarcastic. He scrambles, tacking on, “Wash means a very great deal to me, so-”

Siris snorts, patting Locus’ arm. “I know what you meant, kid.”

Locus’ cheeks darken with embarrassment. “I’m not that much younger than you.”

“Ten years isn’t something to sneeze at.” Siris grins slyly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Locus sees Wash trying to hide a matching grin of his own behind his palm.

It’s a good start.

#red vs blue #rvb #spoilers #mainewash #locington

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year ago

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The Creeping Man pt 2

There was a lot going on last time. There was a dog behaving strangely. Its owner behaving even more strangely and at least two professors whose daughters were engaged. Although one of those engagements (the one to another professor) was broken off, I'm pretty sure. And people seem to think that the reason that professor is behaving strangely is because of the engagement? Just a lot going on. I went back to my post about it, but got stuck on that gif I posted of Oscar Isaac licking his fingers, which derailed me a bit.

I was thinking there might be something going on inheritance-wise. But honestly, I'm not sure I have enough information at the moment to judge.

Oh, yeah, and fiancee No. 2, who is the daughter of fiance No. 1, just walked in and is about to tell us a story.

“I was awakened in the night by the dog barking most furiously. Poor Roy, he is chained now near the stable."

Roy knows something, I'm telling you. If only we could cast Speak with Animals.

"...we all have a feeling of impending danger."

"My room is on the second floor. It happened that the blind was up in my window, and there was bright moonlight outside. As I lay with my eyes fixed upon the square of light, listening to the frenzied barkings of the dog, I was amazed to see my father's face looking in at me."

More evidence in favour of demonic possession, obviously. Or this is like that Green Wing episode where someone puts a picture of Jesus on the end of a stick and holds it up to windows.

Anyone else watch Green Wing here? Just me?

Coolcool.

Also, 2nd floor is one higher than you think if you're American. In the UK we have Ground floor, then first floor, then second floor.

"It was no delusion, Mr. Holmes."

Delusions, of course, being things that you definitely know if you're having or not. Traditionally.

“The date being September 5th,” said Holmes. “That certainly complicates matters.”

I do not remember anything about the date in part one. But I am assuming that this is important in some way because Holmes is drawing attention to it.

Birthdays? Something that happens on 6th September?

“Possibly you are thinking of the connection between insanity and phases of the moon?”

I know the etymology of the word lunatic, and yet still when people say things like this I have a moment of wtf.

I feel like it's not the 5th that's important, but the day before or the day after.

"We will therefore call upon him as if he had given us an appointment upon such a date. He will put it down to his own lack of memory."

I know this word gets thrown around a lot, but this is literally gaslighting. That's right, distort the man who is possibly mentally ill's sense of reality even further, Holmes. Go on. Do it.

“I warn you, however, that the professor is irascible and violent at times.”

Does he just have dementia? I mean there's nothing just about dementia, but it feels like maybe he's just... not well. Obviously that's not the case or else there wouldn't be a story and his name wouldn't need clearing or whatever it is. But still... missing time, behaving strangely, violent outbursts?

They might be lying about all of this, of course.

"There is, if I remember right, an inn called the Chequers where the port used to be above mediocrity and the linen was above reproach."

It's clean and the booze will get you drunk. The highest of praise.

"...an easy effort on the part of Holmes, who had no roots to pull up, but one which involved frantic planning and hurrying on my part, as my practice was by this time not inconsiderable."

Since when? For how? Last we knew Holmes had paid someone to buy your practice so you could move in with him. Then you got married again, and now you're a super successful doctor? When? Where is your wife, btw? Is she dead again?

“I presume that you do not go so far as to assert that I summoned you?” “I would rather answer no questions,” said Holmes.

So you're... not going to gaslight the man who is possibly mentally ill.

Good choice.

“That was my miscalculation. It is evident that his memory is much more reliable than I had thought."

But only because he's not as mentally ill as you thought he was.

"I have the address of the man in London to whom the professor writes. He seems to have written this morning, and I got it from his blotting-paper."

Oh yeah, he's also writing weird letters after having gone off to Europe for a while to nurse his broken heart. I forgot about that. There's a lot of stuff going on here.

So far he's done nothing but be kind of angry and aggressive.

“Mercer is since your time,” said Holmes.

I know that ACD did not keep track of the time line or give a fuck about continuity, but we haven't seen any real evidence of a gap in Watson hanging around with Holmes. But yay for introducing another random character whom we have never seen and whom we will never see again.

Technically we haven't see him this time, either.

Why would someone crawl down a passageway? Because they're looking for something on the ground? Did he drop something?

We were, I may say, seated in the old sitting-room of the ancient hotel, with a bottle of the famous vintage of which Holmes had spoken on the table between us.

Holmes said the port was 'above mediocrity', which is pretty far from a ringing endorsement. Now it's 'famous'? I bet it's no brandy, though.

“Let us, then, form the provisional theory that every nine days the professor takes some strong drug which has a passing but highly poisonous effect. His naturally violent nature is intensified by it. He learned to take this drug while he was in Prague, and is now supplied with it by a Bohemian intermediary in London. This all hangs together, Watson!”

And the reason for him taking it every 9 days, like clockwork?

Not sure that's how drugs work. I really feel like Holmes would know that.

“But the dog, the face at the window, the creeping man in the passage?”

I'm still not entirely put off the 'doppelganger' explanation for the dog. Then the other two can both be explained as him looking for something. What, I have no idea, but something small enough that he had to crawl around on his hands and knees to find it.

Diamonds?

"In the meantime we can only keep in touch with friend Bennett and enjoy the amenities of this charming town.”

And its famous, not-mediocre port, I guess.

#Letters from Watson #The Creeping Man #Sherlock Holmes #long post

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zxmickeyzx · 1 year ago

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Mumbattan Ch.5

Barista! Pavitr x Artist! Miles

Miles came into the cafe for some chai tea, to see his friend Gwen on her shift and make some art while relaxing in the cafe. Instead he got some Barista who looked very annoyed when he tried to order and then became very passionate about ranting to him about how people say chai tea instead of just saying chai. Miles didn't mind him lecturing him on it though.

At least it was from someone so cute.

First ~ Prev ~ Masterlist ~ Next

The customer who he learned was named Miles from Gwen, did not show up the very next day again much to Pavitrs disappointment. After the talk with his Maya Auntie, he wanted to make sure he apologized properly, but it had been about two weeks since he last saw him. He thought back to their last interaction and didn't remember anything he did or say to warrant him not come back again. Hopefully he did not cause another misunderstanding and he was just overthinking it as usual.

The cafe was less busy at the moment, as it was the middle of the day most people were either working or in school at the moment. So he took advantage of this moment to just stare into space. Honestly it was not his fault, he was cleaning but he was just so bored. He hated slow days. Maybe he could call one of his friends to keep him company, while he did enjoy Ben's company at a certain point he needed a break from the man and his dramatic flair and Gwen wouldn't come until much later. Gayatri was here earlier but she left as soon as her shift was done. ‘Hmph Traitor’

While lost in his train of thought he didn’t hear his name being called.

“PAVITR!”

He jumped and froze a bit outta shock, he turned to see who called his name with such urgency. Turns out that person was Gwen. She looked frustrated with him at the moment.

“Oh! Hi Gwen!” He beams a smile at her, but she gives him a frustrated sigh in response.

“Pav, are you okay? I have been trying to get your attention for a bit.” She gave him a bit of a concerned look. He just shook his head in disagreement.

“No, I'm okay. I am just so bored. Are you clocking in now? I thought you worked later.” Maybe he got the times wrong.

“Hm no. I am not working yet, Ben is covering my shift for a bit longer, said he needed the cash. I will work later though.I start when the rush starts later at around 3. You’ll be working with Ben til then?”

He groans. More Ben.

“Don't worry I heard that Lyla is taking over more shifts when she comes back.”

“Lyla is coming back?! I thought she quit because of school?” He said in disbelief.

Gwen chuckles. “Yeah, but remember she was going to come back when her mister as TA was over. Mr. O’hara is a hard ass.”

Lyla used to work at the cafe when she was 16 until her 2nd year in college when she became a TA for her class. Apparently Mr. O'hara, who he has heard so much about, is very strict and hard to please. It takes an extreme amount of effort to pass his classes. Before her no one wanted to deal with him, many of his former TA’s would quit within a week so it was surprising that she was his TA for a whole year. She actually recommended that they hire Gwen.

“I am excited to see her again. I missed her so much!” Pavitr really meant it, they barely saw her when she was TA but when they did it was always a joy.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be great to work with her.” Gwen then looks around the cafe. “Hey Pav, since it's slow, why don't you take a break and hang out with us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, me and Miles.” She points in the direction of where Miles was sitting. It seemed that he was lost in whatever he was writing, or was it drawing. He couldn't really tell.

“Oh, um, I wouldn’t want to intrude! Besides, I am still working, never know when it needs to be all hands on deck.”

“Fine. But can you make me my usual and Miles some Chai. I swear he is addicted to it. What did you put in it to make him crave it all the time? Drugs?” She jokes.

“Of course not! I am just that good.” He smiles. “Anything you want to eat with it?”

“You know what, can I get some strawberry cheesecake and for miles, get him two croissants buttered and toasted. I’ll pay for it now.” He nods.

“I’ll bring it over to you guys when the order is done then.” Gwen hands him cash, and tells him thanks before walking back to where her friend was. As she seats down he goes to the coffee bar and gets started on the order. At least now he had something to do that wasn't just recleaning everything to look busy. As he started to focus on making the order, a certain someone was using him as a reference for his art studies.

Miles was mesmerized by the way Pavitr moved while making their orders. The sun seemed to always hit him with the right lighting. His hair was so majestic, so dark and lucious, and his eyes were so bright and beautiful it pulled you in. He wanted to capture it in his art. Even though they were quick sketches, he was pretty satisfied with where the art direction was going. He was so focused he didn't notice Gwen calling him.

“MILES!”

He jumped a bit and looked up to see Gwen just staring at him.

“Oh! Hi Gwen, "he smiles. She gives him a sigh.

“What is up with you and Pav today?” She sits down next to him. “So what's got you all hyper focused?” She leans to look at what he is drawing in his sketchbook. A bad habit that he just accepted over the years that she will forever be nosy and can never control her curiosity. She looks at his sketches and then at him with a raised eyebrow. “Pav?”

He looks away from her for a bit and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. He’s just so mesmerizing, I had to draw him. You don't think he would mind right?”

Gwen chuckles. “I don't think he will mind once he sees the work when you’re finished with it. Are you sure it's only cause he is mesmerizing?” Miles, knowing what she was implying, shakes his head.

“It ain't like that. I just thought he would be nice to draw ya know.” He turns back to continue drawing Pavitr.

“Yeah right. Just like how you drew me before in high school cause I was nice to draw.” She teases.

“That was different. I just met him, plus I didnt even introduce myself. He doesn't even know my name.”

“He does. I’ve talked about you to him before.” She mentions nonchalantly.

“That doesn't count, I have not introduced myself as anything other than the customer you corrected the other day.” He looks at Pavitr making the drinks to see what new position he was in to quickly sketch. “Anyway. When does your shift start?”

“In about an hour and a half. So I get to bug you more!” She lightly punches his shoulders. He just rolls his eyes and smiles. Gwen is one of his best friends, every just flows so naturally when they are together. They just vibe. He sometimes sees her as an annoying sibling that likes to bother him from time to time. His father could attest to that, calling her an emo leech who liked to come over and eat. Even though he wouldn't say it out loud he was very fond of her, like a reluctant uncle who has an honorary niece he had no say in.

About 15 minutes later, he started to try and add more details to the quick sketches he made of the barista while Gwen was talking to him about how her band were prepping to do more shows and the difficulty to get everyone's times synced up.

“Yeah, our lead guitarist is also very inconsistent even though he usually has the most time out of all of us. Though I will say, I do enjoy being a part of this band more than the last one.”

“That's great you finally found one that suits you. I know you’ve been looking for one ever since I met you.”

“Yeah, now if only we can sync up so I can play more. Margo said she could help us with our scheduling problem. I believe in her, if anyone can help us organize our messy style it's her.”

Margo was a computer science major, and was practically a tech wiz. She was also extremely detail oriented and particular with her things. It was really funny because Ganke was the opposite of her while also being a tech wiz. They would always group up together even though they clash with how they do things. If you ask them why they always partner up they’ll tell you that it's convenient because they have so many classes in common.

“Thank Pav!” He hears Gwen say, taking him out of his train of thoughts. He looks up from his sketchbook to see Pavitr places their order in front of them giving them a smile that rivals the sun.

“No problem! I hope you guys enjoy!”

“We will!” Gwen grabs her drink and takes a sip. “Pav, I don't think I have properly introduced you to my friend. Pav this is Miles, he’s been my best friend since sophomore year in high school. Miles this Pav the chai activist.” She teases.

Pavitr hesitates to respond but Miles does not.

“Hey man, it's nice to finally properly be introduced to you. I realized I never gave you my name before, sorry ‘bout that.” He gives him a small smile.

“That's no problem! I know our first meeting wasn’t the best, sorry about that.” Pavitr rubs his neck a bit nervously.

Miles gives him a small chuckle. “Its no problem man. Like I said before I didn't mind being corrected. At least I won't be sayin ‘Tea Tea’ anymore. Feel free to tell me any other things I may be sayin wrong.”

“Well people like to say ‘naan bread’ which is the same as saying ‘bread bread’.” Miles groans in response.

“Youre kiddin! I've been saying ‘bread bread’ this entire time?!”

Pavitr laughs and relaxes, he finally apologizes and it seems he really was worried for no reason. Miles was very respectful and liked to lighten the mood. He can see why Gwen liked to hang out with him a lot.

“Well now you know.” He teases. He sees Miles take a sip of the chai he had just made.

“Man, this really hits the spot. You know your stuff.”

Pavitr’s skin turns a bit redder at the compliment. “Thanks.”

Just then a group of teenagers walked into the cafe which caused Pavitr to sigh. He was just getting to know Miles but he guesses the conversation would be cut short for another time.

“Looks like duty calls for me. I guess we have to cut this conversation short.” He pouted a bit.

“Don’t worry Pav, we can always talk later when I work on shift. Plus Miles will be coming here more often. He said he likes the cafe vibes. I think he is really here cause I’m so awesome he can't handle not havin our vibe sessions as much.” She jokes.

“Yeah right. I’m glad I don't have to see your face as often. Plus who said I am coming for you, if anything it's Pavitr’s Chai that’s bringing me in here.” Miles jokes back to switch Gwen just rolls her eyes.

“Sure buddy, whatever you say. I know you love me.”

Pavitr chuckles as he walks away. “Well I’ll talk to you guys later! Enjoy your stay Miles!”

“Hey! What about me?” Gwen shouts a bit to him.

“You're gonna be working later!” He responds before arriving at the coffee bar.

Gwen groans. “He’s right. I do love working here even if not all the customers are great.”

“At least you have me here to keep you company. You can’t get rid of me easily.” Miles gives her a pat on the shoulder.

“Yeah you're right. Are you gonna stay the whole time? You know I can go home by myself.” Miles just shakes his head.

“My parents would kill me if I don't walk you back late. I know you can handle yourself but you're like my sister I gotta make sure you get home safe.”

“Yeah, thanks Miles. I appreciate it.”

“It's no problem!” He goes back to continue his art trying to capture Pavitrs essence on paper. Gwen peeks again to see his process.

“You sure you're drawing Pavitr just for reference?” She teases.

“Oh shut up!”

Prev ~ Next

Tagged List:

@ar1-thecat, @marrz-sucks, @amaterasusanowo, @l3m0n4d3-st4nd @aesthetichoney2111

#across the spiderverse fanfiction #chaiflower #goldenflower #miles morales fanfiction #atsv fanfiction #fanfiction #pavitr x miles #miles x pavitr #spiderverse #pavitr prabhakar #miles molares #Mumbattan Cafe

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foosybit · 1 year ago

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Mayoi in PriPara Outfits Part 1

this is a suuuuuper long post cuz i did 2 drawings for about 20 outfits????? so here's the best ones so u dont miss anything by not actually going thru them all o7

but woooo !!! basically i've been on a long journey rewatching pripara very slowly so it's kinda seeping into my brain so i wanted to mess around with what outfits mayoi would go for if he went 2 pripara !! if u want a teal eyed version that also isnt split into parts, heres my pixiv post

last few things to say b4 i start, hello 3 pripara fans on my account, no boypara outfits cuz i didnt grow up with that (the last op i remember is the 6th one and i dont think im anywhere near that yet in my rewatch), honestly i have no clue if there's even proper boypara outfits??? i just know it exists idk anything about it, and if u see placeholders thats cuz i wanna keep the 3 image layout, thats the only reason why lol. and outfit descriptions will go below the art of the outfit. ok time 2 start !!!!!!

Petit Devi from Holic Trick Classic !! this was the first one I did back on.... Janurary 2nd lol. I have yet to see Mayoi in a bright pink but u know what, my executive decision says he deserves it. hi 3 pripara fans on my account again, i should also say most of these (like this one) will be from the arcade stuff cuz i just picked stuff i liked from the wiki's coord list

Sexy Girl from Holic Trick cuz Mayoi's the sexiest girl i know !! from now on all the coords will be from Holic Trick (an in-show brand) cuz 2bh w y'all i mostly just browsed Holic Trick for this whole series of drawings cuz im not going thru all those dam coords. although i've done 2 short skirts so far i do think mayoi'd like longer skirts more, but pripara likes short skirts more so so be it o7

Gothic Check !! the grey shirt and black jacket is kinda giving fs2 4star vibes so this would be the fs2 4star if enstars were cool (wore pripara outfits)

Modern Coffee Maid !! I was thinking of maybe changing the color but i liked the way the orange contrasts with the purple making it look kinda halloweeny :] I also have a personal bias towards brown i luv that color !! but ya if i had 2 say, he'd probably be a 3star if this were a set, kinda vaguely fits him but not enough to be under the spotlight imo

Classic Trump !! Sophy actually wears this in the show and i think it's so cute i wonder how the other alka members would style the vest in their own way (im 2 lazy 2 do that myself yawwnnn) in fact mayoi himself would probably prefer longer sleeves but u kno, stayed tru 2 the original n stuff, anyway say hello to bright pink again mayochan

Sparkling Jellyfish Sophy !! hi kanata hi fish wife hi nata hello nata hi nata whats up nata i love u nata

Nin'Nin Among the Water from Baby Monster !! when i saw this outfit i was chained to my tablet the demons were holding me hostage i had to make the ninja association wear it or i'd suffer a public execution

My Design Holic Trick !! back to holic trick for the rest again :] this is the one i posted on its own hehehehe it's still the one i put THE most effort into (which is why it's the only one i bothered to sign, still dont repost the rest tho please and thank u im just lazy) cuz man its a vibe its so good its one of my favs still i love stupid shorts and the puffy sleeves with the cropped vest and black and purple and the heart and bows and keys which are kinda all reasons i also like mayoi (heart in mayois vibe comes from his big heart muah) bless u mayoi i luv u

Night Navy !! mayoi loves to kill artists in cold blood with random intricate patterns (or maybe thats just an enstars thing in general) so i knew i had to give him this dress. gave him an undershirt cuz what if he gets cold :[

And that's it for this post !! I've now reached the image limit, so see ya in the next post !! (sorry foosybit followers for triple posting i didnt realize i drew so much)

#mayoi ayase #enstars #foosys art tag

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why-animation · 2 years ago

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Director Ishihara ✕ Chief Director Ogawa Discussion (re: Sound! Euphonium ~ Ensemble Contest)

My translation of the discussion featured here on the official Eupho site. Figured it might be worthwhile since I suspect Ogawa's gonna be a major figure at KyoAni in the coming decade. Caveat lector though.

A Prologue to the Kumiko 3rd Year Arc

─Special Edition: Sound! Euphonium ~ Ensemble Contest (Ensemble) is the first entry in four years for the Sound! Euphonium (Eupho) series, and production is currently underway. How’s it going?

Ishihara: Coming back to Eupho again…hoo boy, it’s a handful! (Laughs)

Ogawa: (Laughs) The animation for the instruments and stuff can give us trouble here and there, but in my opinion, this is the sort of anime where the real problem is figuring out how to portray the drama. First of all, Ensemble was originally planned to be an OVA, and also Ensemble is tied to the Kumiko 3rd year arc (scheduled to air in 2024), so I’ve been thinking about how that’s gonna work.

─So at first it was planned to be an OVA?

Ishihara: The Kumiko 3rd year arc in 2024 is still pretty far away, and we know we’re keeping the fans waiting, so we got to talking and felt that we should have something in the mean time. To that end, there was a story in the novels from the back half of 2nd year that we didn’t portray in Sound! Euphonium the Movie ~ The Promised Finale (Chikai no Finale) about Kumiko’s first efforts as club president with the ensemble contest. We decided it’d be a good idea to put it out as a standalone episode. In terms of composition, we made it like an extension of the TV series. However some time later, it had turned into something we could show as a film, so we made it with the big screen in mind. Truth be told, the drawing count really got away from us. (Laughs) It might not look quite as flashy as a movie, but I think you can look forward to it with tempered expectations: it's a depiction of unspectacular everyday life.

─You talked a bit about it being tied to Kumiko’s 3rd year arc. How exactly does Ensemble fit in with the series?

Ogawa: I think one of the biggest points is that it serves as a prologue to Kumiko being club president. The first season closely depicts the activities of the wind ensemble club, and the second season focused on the human relationships. When I think about what’s interesting in the Kumiko 3rd year arc, the biggest thing has gotta be how Kumiko’s future is shaping up now that she’s a club president. Ensemble is connected to the 3rd year arc, so this fits in as a prologue to her being president.

The balance of realism and entertainment

─What’s been at the front of your mind while making Ensemble?

Ogawa: This applies to the whole of Sound! Euphonium, not just Ensemble, but when it comes to the wind ensemble itself, to my mind, the keyword is “lifelike,” or “realistic.” “Like you're really there.” We’ve been very much focused on balancing this goal with making it entertaining as anime.

Ishihara: Absolutely, that’s exactly what we were thinking when we were making Eupho and pursuing that sense of verisimilitude in animation. Drawing the instruments as realistically as we could and all…

Ogawa: That said, sometimes you'll have a scene that just screams "hey, make me a highlight!" and you can end up over-directing it, so it’s pretty hard.

Ishihara: Yep, that’s it, that’s the experience. Just because you have flashy scenes doesn’t mean you’re telling your story, and in fact you can often tell a story by resolving the characters’ emotions without having any flashy scenes at all.

Ogawa: On the other hand, I do think it’s better to do something anyway and regret it than not to do it at all, even if it ends up over-directed and loses that sense of realism, because there really are a lot of cases where it turns out better as a result…I’m constantly struggling with that feeling.

Ishihara: Also, and this doesn’t have anything to do with directing, but there are some seniors who show up who’ve moved on from the band, which I think people will like.

─It’s been about four years since the last Eupho visual project. What does the staff look like?

Ogawa: There are a lot of people who watched Eupho as students and told me they joined Kyoto Animation because they liked it so much. Their desire to do something great really comes across.

Ishihara: Part of me wondered what’ll happen now that there’s so much new staff who hasn’t worked on Eupho before, but they draw Eupho the same as always, and with utmost care. It makes me so glad. It’s been a long time since we’ve drawn instruments, but the movement in the marimba cuts is so good to the point where it looks nearly like it was rotoscoped. Nope! It was all animated solely from the reference footage.

Ogawa: Man, the staff is working so hard. It used to be that even when we used 3DCG, we needed to retouch it to give it texture. That caused us all kinds of trouble. Since then, the 3D and compositing staff have improved even more and come up with all kinds of tools. As the series has incremented, we’ve all really come to appreciate the advantages of both 2D and 3D animation. We’d like to improve ourselves even more with the Kumiko 3rd year arc.

Eupho: Past and Present

─You mentioned instruments. Regarding the music, I hear the piece you planned on using, “Omens of Love,” is the subject of some discussion.

Ogawa: There’s a passage in Ensemble that features “Omens of Love.” I was in charge of the boards for half of Ensemble, and at first there weren’t plans to use any musical compositions. However, when it became a theatrical project, we decided to utilize a piece since there was a passage that we wanted to really make an impression. When we asked around our staff involved with the wind ensemble what sort of piece they thought would be good, there were a lot of people who answered “Omens of Love.” It was a song I’d heard of through a few places too, and I think it really fits. The more I listened to it, the more I liked it, the more I got jazzed about the idea. (Laughs)

─How did recording with the wind ensemble go?

Ishihara: The performers are mostly all different from the first season, but it’s still the same ol’ Eupho. Ogawa-kun, you hadn’t participated in the recording before. What did you think?

Ogawa: It really got to me. I’d been invited to regular concerts, so I’ve heard live performances before, and those were plenty moving too of course, but this time I was listening to them closer up, and it just felt more imminent somehow…the sense of presence was just amazing. So many people were gathered for the purpose of making just one cartoon, and yet a lot of people came to tell me how much they liked Eupho. We were recording a short version of Omens of Love, and yet I was very impressed with how Ouwada-sensei and everyone else from the orchestra came up with all these forward-looking proposals for the trimming process, taking on the role of creators in their own right.

─It sounds like real teamwork

Ogawa: I came to truly understand how broad the domain is about which I know nothing. I learned a lot at the recordings, but there’s no way that could possibly cover everything, so it really did have the sense that this was something everyone was making together. What about you, Ishihara? You’ve been to these recordings so often…

Ishihara: It’s really interesting to hear a performance up close. I love places where people are making stuff, like workshops, and, of course, my own workplace included. The audio recording studio has the feel of a “maker space” too, so it just feels really comfy.

Ogawa: There are some things that you can just feel how good they are in your bones. There are some takes where you know it’s good the moment you hear it, and everyone else feels the same way. That’s not specialist knowledge; that’s just what’s so interesting about music: it really is a common tongue.

─There are some new cast members, and some who haven’t dubbed Eupho in many years. Was there anything remarkable about the dubbing process?

Ishihara: We talked some about realism and entertainment at the start, and my own directorial sensibilities have changed since the first TV season as well. Around the time of the first season, Eupho had a lot of instances of anime-like comical modes of expression, but those have gradually faded. I think the cast’s delivery has transitioned from something more anime-like to something closer to realism.

Ogawa: I feel that there were a lot of times when the sound director, (Youta) Tsuruoka, was putting a ton of passion into his directing. During the dubbing process, Tsuruoka was like “do it like you just want to start it all over again. Do it with the feeling that you want to tear down everything you’ve done up to now.” I got the sense that Tsuruoka had a very clear idea of what he wanted. I interpreted it as him proceeding under the premise that even if you break from what came before it won’t truly be a break, and that he’d see what feelings each cast members would take with them as they took their fresh start. People were saying things like “if you’re not growing, you’re doing it wrong,” and just as the cast took that attitude and grew a bit, so too did their characters – at least that’s how it felt to me.

The vision behind Kumiko Oumae’s depiction

Ogawa: There was one other thing that really left an impression on me from the dubbing, and that’s regarding Kumiko. Up until now the structure has been that other characters would be having problems and Kumiko would be looking on, but looking towards the 3rd year arc, it’s more about Kumiko herself. Tsuruoka talked with (Tomoyo) Kurosawa – Kumiko’s voice actress – about the nuances of “how to finally express the story of Kumiko Oumae.” They also discussed how to “leverage everything they had up to now,” and I thought “ahh, I see now.” It’s not a “connecting” but rather a “leveraging” process that will drive our progress towards something new, or something like that. It’s something I thought about in productions meetings and stuff regarding how to tell Kumiko Oumae’s story. As production progresses, there are times when that theme becomes so obvious that it actually becomes invisible. I came to be painfully aware of that while listening to Tsuruoka’s direction, feeling quite thankful for it, and at the same time feeling the pressure knowing that nothing will escape Tsuruoka’s eye. (Laughs)

─Do you have a message for the fans?

Ogawa: There will be new compositions in this one, so those are the places to watch and listen carefully. The power of theatrical audio equipment for listening to music is unmistakable, so I hope you all like it. I’m looking forward to it too! If you’d all walk on down to the theaters, I’d be much obliged.

Ishihara: I think we're taking a new start headed towards the Kumiko third year arc. As with everything else in life, it’s a lot fun declare “it all starts here!” and take that first step straight forward. I think that feeling is what this work is all about. You’ll be getting a glimpse of the Kumiko of the future. I hope you all enjoy it.

#hibike! euphonium #sound! euphonium #translation

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barbieb0y · 1 year ago

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going through it rn (it: stardew valley brainrot. i can see why people are obsessed with this game)

i have. so many thoughts a whole fanfic is being written in my head as we speak i am serious about an oc for once and so i have to put it down somewhere but like this is kinda cringe so im putting it all under the cut LOL

i want to say meet me but atp he feels like an oc that vaguely resembles me so. he has my name and bits of my traits and experiences tho so lol. meet my farmer oc safar but also i wished i named him link instead

hes supposed to have glasses why does this picrew not have glasses i wished i was good at drawing

hes a twink. thats literally the first thing that pops up in my head when i think about this guy. friendly, easy-going twink who was a bit nervous when he first arrived in pelican town but now hes always bothering people

literally prefers doing anything else but actual farming but everyone calls him farmer anyway. loves fishing especially and is #besties with willy (not actually canon ingame bc i keep neglecting willy IM SORRY) tho he absolutely despised it at first bc he found it hard + had a bad experience with fishing when he was little (this is actually true. this is canon irl safar lore i just buried it in the depths of my mind bc it hasnt been relevant until now)

married to elliot bc he is a disaster gay who put in all his goddamn effort he could muster in his tiny body in wooing the hermit writer by the beach when he realised he's actually attracted to him and that hes not just platonically-inclined to him bc he lives on the beach and therefore a potential fishing buddy

also besties with penny bc idk i like penny

just wants to get along with everyone but damn some bitches do be bitches

has a grey tabby cat named pumpkin :D

wants to blow up joja mart

also chose to have fruit bats over mushrooms for that cave thing

this is just me being delusional but one time i fished beside leah at the pond near her house bc i thought itd be funny but then i had this vivid scenario consisting of this dialogue:

"wow, you really are good at fishing. no wonder elliot's got a thing for you"

"he WHAT now"

"um"

somehow forgot elliot's birthday in year 1 and now hes all dramatic about it while elliot himself doesnt really mind but im like "BUT BABE"

refuses to upgrade the farmhouse for the 2nd time. a nursery is the last thing he wants. robin refuses to replace it with anything else

games on lazier farmer days (they do have good internet in sdv right. right)

elliot was on tour during new years and new years eve and hes somewhat still salty about it and pretends to sulk when elliot finally came back a few days into spring

elliot is a bit concerned with his husband's naming scheme for the ducks. one is named duck. one is puck. one is buck. he fears what the next one will be named

favorite gifts would probably be pink cakes (or anything pink really), pizza, apples, snails and tulips

hated/disliked gifts would be all vegetables. and joja cola

will add more if i come up with more shit (pretend theres a saluting emoji here my phone doesnt have it help)

this is what he looks like ingame. btw bc that picrew isnt really doing him justice lol

#shut up safar #oc moment #i dont think i wanna tag this properly LMAO

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innovativeaicreativity · 2 months ago

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Tumblr Update #8

What's been happening?

Hi everyone! Almost done with all drawing prompts soon, just need to render out the last one. I'm so excited to collectively see everything posted, everyones sketches, final illustrations, and all timelapses together! I'd say this is the first time in so long that I was able to consistently fully draw and render illustrations back to back without getting an artblock. It does feel good to be able to do that again, and I partially believe that generating multiple different AI artworks to get my references and base for the 2nd and 3rd prompt helped me get inspired to continue creating these illustration back to back. With my Instagram, I've been trying to get it to be consistent in posts and the thumbnails, so I usually have to wait till I receive all files and documentations from each respective artist so I can post! So for example, I have the post pattern of myself first, Qilumi, then True_wing168, and if volunteer artist Qilumi hasn't completed or sent me their files yet, I have to wait till they send me the files until I can post True_wing168's post. So with that pattern, it does give a weird posting time but my volunteers have done extremely well to still give me their posts on time :).

I forgot to upload the character design/small reference sheet for the 3 characters I drew, so that has now been uploaded to my Google Drive folders for the past days. I've also updated it with other files needed, and have been trying to rename all corresponding files to its content. A bit of reorganizing has been happening!

Small update on the newest volunteer artist joining us! He finished his first piece and is getting started on the 2nd! I'm extremely grateful he wanted to join and is taking the time and effort to complete this journey with me. To me, every artist has their opinions on art and AI. I wanted to get as many volunteers as I could for that opinions, however, many were too busy or just didnt want to volunteer. So to get a last minute artist isn't my intentions, but I'd love all the opinions and thoughts that I can get. I'll be sure to upload and publish his illustrations, findings, and reflections after he has given me all files! In terms of how I will post it on Instagram, I will try to keep it in order still, so my plan is to post his works after the current artists and I have finished the last drawing prompt and timelapses!

Hiccups:

Besides mentioning the last minute artist volunteer, I've been off putting taking a photo of me working as I don't have a complete work space good enough to snap a photo in, nor do I have any tripods or anything to help. However, I think I finally found a solution to it and will do it today! I will then complete my senior bio as well :). Overall, not any hiccups the past days and I'm looking forward to finishing my journey strong in reflections ^^.

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codlark · 1 year ago

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I don't often think about my dysgraphia, it's more or less something I've learned to cope with o the point I forget I'm coping. But I'm starting in person college and it's one my mind so I though I'd write a few things about it, such as what it is, and how it affects me personally, as there is seeming little about it that doesn't also mention dyslexia, dyscalculia, or dyspraxia.

The first major symptom of dysgraphia is poor fine motor control, typically this shows up as bad hand writing. For me, it also shows up as difficulty playing video games since my fingers can't always find the buttons, I was 18 when I could confidently find all four face buttons on a controller, even though I'd been gaming since I was 5, to say nothing of the gamecube controller. I can't draw well because my hand simply won't do what I tell it to do. When I was younger I wanted to play guitar but decided rather quickly that I would never be able to because of the hand shapes that are needed to play the chords, I have since embraced the electric bass but I still have issues with finger placement. Typing is a mixed bag, sometimes I have no issue, but other times my fingers will "get stuck" and keep trying to put the same letter in, or skip a letter. In the kitchen I found the best way to cut veggies evenly was quickly, because the quicker I go the further up my arm it moves, and shoulder movements aren't fine motor movements.

My hand writing is bad bad. I have about a half dozen different ways of drawing any given letter and can't always pick the one I want, this includes between upper and lower case. I couldn't make a lower case "j" on purpose to save my life until I was in my 20s. I don't always put letters in the right order and sometimes leave out letters. Sometimes letters will be different sizes. I over exaggerate my punctuation so that people can tell what it's supposed to be. Sometimes I use the wrong letter, or I make it wrong.

I can't think when I write by hand. It takes so much effort to write more than a few simple words that I can't think about what I'm writing and write at the same time. But I can type and think at the same time, which I don't get. Paradoxically, I can write and listen but not type and listen.

When I write, and to a lesser extant when I type, I want to go a word at a time, which is fine for smaller words. When I write or type a new word, it's a laborious process because I have to think about each letter as I make them.

And this has impacted me, a lot. In fourth grade my inability to write and think at the same time caused me to miss recess because I was stuck finishing tasks, although I'm sure the ADHD had a role in this. My mom still makes fun of my handwriting, which sucks. Her constant comments about whether or not my hand writing is legible has led me to be very insecure about it, so I try as hard as I can when I write something for other people.

While I was never formally diagnosed, I have more than a few evaluations that say that while my writing quality is at or above grade level, my hand writing is terrible. A notable one from age 10 says I write at a 6th grade level with 2nd grade hand writing. Below is an example of what it looks like now at age 31. It's a bit repetitive but that's what shows it best. Also, this is my first time writing dysgraphia by hand

As for how I cope with dysgraphia? I avoid writing by hand. I've written a fair amount of fiction, that you can find links to on my blog, and I haven't hand written any of it, it was all typed.

Anyway, I hope this post helps someone understand dysgraphia, or figure out that they have it. If there's any interest I can do one on speech cluttering and how I got over it.

#dysgraphia #neurodiversity #actually disabled #actually dysgraphic #handwriting

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lowhangingfruit123 · 2 years ago

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The 100 March Season Unforgiving I

Aight lets cut to the chase, im here to vent my frustations, leave it open to any random that may or may not skip past me a completely random person as well and their rants about something that ticked them off that day

Lets start off with this one person who decided to open their mouth and spewed some stuff that ticked me off especially in the moment the day where I have yet to have strong feelings for anything.

Like you come to this niche discord server complain about the highlights channel having low quality "this is my first time drawing" art and be such a shekel smear merchant while advertising about your own server and how OH SO GOOD IT IS AND DEFINITELY BETTER.

again lemme preface with that the niche discord server is a small place where entry-level artists (and forgive me for using such sterile and clean language because they've already got berated by some twat goat-boating on hastag-general)

Like OK artisque connosequr would you like a side of well oiled up muscular gay men with your plate of stick figures with guns or edgy mainstream content? does that fit your criteria of good art? "Oh but what about yo shi-" what about it huh? I got an art put on the highlights channel and that art was something I did on a whim, not the other arts that I have put my heart, soul, and blood from the amount of frustrated tongue biting I do, I really really couldn't give a damn about how you think my art is bad when even I myself wouldn't think its worthy of being part of highlights with my own two eyes before I even let that piece get off from my drawing board. Now its not the ego game that should be the center focus of this problem they tossed up about, its about the other guys who were just starting out and probs got stars in their eyes when their niche discord puts them on highlights (like an animation was put on that day I highly praise the effort that goes to making a difficult thing to make such type of content and no it wasn't just the funny haha two frames, it was a short little animation 2 characters some facial expressions, abit of more effort put per se.) So I think about that and I think about how it must suck to be in their shoes being "wow my niche art discord server put my work on highlights!" only for it to be called trash by an living compost pit I don't care if he draws like picasso or davinci that pretensious statement about highlights being full of bad art rubbed the hard wrong way (and compared to some artist i've seen in the highlights channel hes DEFINITELY not part of the higher ups, more like above average)

In-fact this is my 2nd time I've seen this person open their stinkhole orifice they call a mouth and I decided "you know what you're not gonna get to say that uncontested this time" I infrequently visit said niche discord server and I can only imagine how many times they come online on that niche server to berate ppl's beginner art and be an absolute smear merchant and shilling your own stupid fangirling server about a mainstream game a lot of people love. "How are they not kicked out for-" their horrid existence and ability to construct sentences without thinking for themselves or others? Its simple really, we just wanna be polite and not start up a HUGE drama about it cuz u know its a bad image and alllll uwu~~~

besides the server has a history of both terrible mods and terrible people (and I am not comfortable sharing such a history at all. I will share one particular experience though in the next post.)

In-fact after telling them for their compost pit manure of a behavior they get chummy with the server people, like? Oh so you guys have been definitely letting this garbage heap given two legs one mouth no morality or braincells what-so-ever give you this treatment and you're ok with because they preface it as "hehe its just a funny joke bruv chill tf out slayyyy yas queen~~"

You absolute bogus of a medical practitioner "laughter is the best medicine" I would have sued you on the spot for such blatant malpractice.

anyways that's about it see ya.

#vent post

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jaypsnax · 4 years ago

Photo

Alright then, to take it from the top... here’s some things I’ve done here or there for this dang game, from oldest to newest. With a big chunk of months starting with the margin Floofty there. Much is traditional and such, which is not my most practiced medium. Details on each below, just because I like over-explaining and it helps my nerves about posting.

1st: Fairly certain this Gramble is the first thing I did that was OK enough to show. Or, at least close to the first. He was one of my favorites and still is for his kindness(though he also can be really mean and paranoid, also a reason why I like him), so I wanted to get around to em. Also he’s very cute, I love my little malewife. I wanna scoop him up and hold him. Trouble is, Gramble has to have some of the most awkward proportions I’ve yet experienced while trying to draw a grumpus, I swear. That, and the more I looked at it, the more I grew to be unhappy with it. That generally applies to basically all of the drawings from last year, I find them to be “eh” at best. But it is what it is. 2nd: Second up is Flooftyyy, my most favorite. Intelligent, well-spoken, morally ambiguous, NB... and an asshole. But one with a cause they believe in that’s ultimately well intentioned, which they’ll go to self-destructive lengths to fulfill. And it’s clear they struggle to really get a grasp on how to treat people and have learned to cope with their frustration by shutting everyone out and believing them to be ignorant. While still obviously playing favorites between Eggabell and Triffany :p But by the end of the game, they’re learning that in order to really do what they want, they’ve got to really try and understand others. They’re the sort that I’d love to keep following to see their development. The awkwardness, the uncomfortable apologies and attempts at empathizing or opening up, the potential for blossoming relationships and a connection with others that, maybe, they’ve never quite experienced before. Their character is one that’s kind of close to my heart for being interesting and also quite similar to one I made and roleplayed for years. Add in the fact they’re NB and that just sealed the deal, that’s some fucking gender goddamn euphoria right there. So I had to draw them. 3rd: This one also mostly falls under the same explanation as above, except it was an effort as really figuring out grumpus bodies and proportions and stuff. Albeit in the form of solely Floofty, but my mental bandwidth for anything more than a drawing or two at a time is zilch. After that I’m spent. It was the first thing that I felt even marginally satisfied with, however.... I just feel like I’m in danger when looking at it. Like I’m gonna lose my way of things and habits I’ve built now from observing it too closely. Did keep the eyes, however. Kind of. 4th: To be real w you I just felt like drawing a Filbo after seeing a Filbo. He’s cute and I’d put a smooch on his dumb little head. Also more practice w grump stuff, but with some intentional attempts at stylization. I guess it didn’t stick, but who knows, maybe I could pick some of it back up? 5th: THE FIRST NEW DRAWING FROM A FEW DAYS AGO and it’s FLOOFTY, of course. It’s not really the first, there’s a few other things before it, but they suck so... yeah. I’d crawled out of the Bugsnax hole somewhat after a few months and failing to really do anything I actually wanted to do before, but a particular fic conked me right back 6 ft under. Piled the dirt over me and packed it in tight. So here I am again. And not only is it like that, but after binging a whole nearly 60,000 words in a night/morning, I was struck with the inspiration to actually write myself. Or try to, anyway. I have experience in RPing, but not a whole lot in actually... making a story myself. It’s not been going well, but I’ve talked plenty about that already... I’m sure it gets annoying for the whole maybe one person whose seen most of it to witness. And I’m still having fun. I’d mention the fic, but considering it’s NSFW and I’m officially tagging this... I don’t know if they’d want me advertising it as such. But surprise surprise, it’s Floofty related. And don’t get the wrong idea, while it covers explicit subject matter, that’s not entirely the point. Not a bad thing if it were, just that it’s more than that. I just like good character writing over all else, which is something liking this game to begin with heavily reinforced.... 6th: Heeeere’s Gramble, again. I’d been doing some little drawings for character profile stuff in my notebook, but I started to run into some difficulties when I got to him. This here is one of the results of the couple of little draws I did to try and understand. Again, his proportions are so *weird*. He’s just a little guy.... 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th: Here marks the first impulse draw after considering Buddy/Filbo/Beffica poly stuff. As well as the sudden Buddy drawing in general, which came as a big shock to me. These draws are suuuper rough, but I like the concepts. And goodness has this stuff been a whole ‘nother tangent... I did a fair amount of talking about it here. I’d do more, since there were TONS of details I still wanted to mentioned, but... my hands are starting to hurt. So maybe later. I realized that I kinda of messed up their design in my head bc I thought they had more similar teeth to Clumby. Whoops. That’s what I get for not using reference and same with FlooFTY’S TEETH AND THE WATCH NOOOOOOOOOO- .... *Ahem* I reckon the design is subject to change. Gotta make some little adjustment here or there, like maybe different eyes to distinct them from Floofty, but I actually rather... like the look. The hat, tie, and maybe a change to a bag on the side look nice... if totally not canon. But I will have just a little break from canon, as a treat. Otherwise it’s canon or bust. Personally, at least. I don’t really hold others to that standard unless they say they’re trying to follow canon or diverge so badly that a character is unrecognizable.

#bugsnax #Floofty Fizzlebean #Filbo Fiddlepie #Beffica Winklesnoot #Journalist #uhhhhh #Gramble Gigglefunny #This is NOT going to be a common thing #Floating around in official tags kinda freaks me out #my art

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pazumane-archive · 3 years ago

Text

Closing Time - Asahi x Reader

Characters: Asahi Azumane, female reader, original female character, small Taichi cameo

Relationships: Asahi Azumane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, SFW but 16+ please

Warnings: Alcohol, general drunken shenanigans, emetophobia (mentions of vomit), bad language

WC: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is a totally self-indulgent bedtime-scenario-type story because there is simply not enough Asahi/Reader content out there and I adore him. It’s also my first time writing in 2nd person, so PLEASE feel free to send me any feedback, please just be kind :) I really don’t like to use y/n, so I only used it a couple times towards the end when I wasn’t sure what else to do lol

The preview begins with the bolded text below and fic continues after the cut :)

Reblogs appreciated! <3

You weren’t planning on getting this drunk. But by the time it got to be about 11:30, you didn’t know what else to do. You had put so much effort and energy into making yourself look nice just for your date not to show up. Your roommate was out of town, so instead of going home and pouting, you figured you might as well have some fun while you were out. But you’ve never been good at exercising restraint, and the fact that you were alone wasn’t doing you any favors. But by closing time had rolled around, you could hardly see straight. You needed help, so you call upon an old friend.

“Do you have anybody you can call for a ride?” Kawanishi asks.

Kawanishi’s the bartender at this izakaya, and over the course of the night, you spent most of the time talking his ear off. He’s nice enough, and held pleasant conversation for the last few hours. He says he used to be a volleyball player, and had even played on the same team as a one of the guys on the Japan National Team. You forget to ask him which school he attended, but he probably was tired of talking to your drunk ass anyway, so you don’t bother asking. “Yeah,” you say, digging in your purse for your phone. “Are you sure? I can call a cab for you if you need it,” he offers. “Nah,” you say, hiccupping between words. “I’ll call somebody. Thank you though.” “No problem,” he says. “Just try to make it quick.” You scroll through your phone, trying to figure out who to call. Your roommate’s out of town visiting her parents, so she’s a no-go. You could call Kokomi. Honestly, she would deserve the 2AM phone call for setting you up on this failed blind date in the first place. Ever since you moved to Tokyo last month, she was constantly trying to set you up with somebody, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or some rando that she had met on the train. Unfortunately, all of them were jerks. And this one was the biggest jerk of all. You silently curse yourself for going along with her antics again.

“He’s great, you’ll love him!” “You said that about the last three guys you tried to set me up with, Kokomi.” “Please!! You’ll never know if you don’t even give him a chance.”

Well, you gave him a chance. And it ended up with you all alone, drunk as hell in an unfamiliar part of the city. You dial Kokomi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Bitch,” you mutter. You unlock your phone again and look through to find somebody that might be able to take you home. You scroll back to the top of your contact list, and your eyes settle on another name. He lives just a few blocks away, and knowing him, he’s probably awake working on something anyway. You click on his contact and wait for him to answer.

The exhaustion’s starting to get to him. It’s the weekend and he can afford to stay up an extra couple of hours to finish this design, but the combination of fatigue and frustration are taking over. He sets down his pencil and moves towards his bed, until his cell starts to buzz. He glances over at the clock on the wall. 1:49 AM.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Asahi picks up his phone, surprised to see your name on the screen. His heart skips a beat in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness. Aside from his teammates, you’re one of the only people he bothered to keep in contact with after high school. The two of you had even met up a few times since you moved to the city, but he never would have expected you to call at this hour unless… unless something is wrong. “Hey you, what’s up?” He says, choking back a yawn. “Hiiiii Asahiiii! I tried to call Kokomi but she didn’t answer her phone… could you come pick me up?” Your voice is thick and your words are almost unintelligible as you speak. It’s obvious that you’re far from sober. “Where are you?” Asahi asks, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” “M’fine,” you slur. “But I…” Suddenly the call drops. Asahi calls you back in a panic, his heart racing as he waited for you to answer. You could be in danger and he’d be powerless to help you. He doesn’t even know where you are. “Hello?” A man’s voice comes through the speaker. “Who are you? Where is she?” Asahi asks frantically. “Relax, man. I’m just the bartender,” he says. “Look, your friend’s next to me, but she’s on the verge of passing out. Can you come get her before she pukes all over my bar? She’s at Zoetrope. You know where that is?” “Of course, I’m on my way now! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Asahi says, grabbing his apartment keys and putting on a pair of shoes. He’s out the door almost immediately.

Kawanishi presses your phone back into your hands. Your head is spinning so fast that you struggle to keep your eyes open. “Is he coming?” you ask. “Yeah, he’s on the way,” Kawanishi says. “He’ll be here soon. Now do me a favor, don’t get this drunk the next time you come into my izakaya or I’ll have to kick you out.” “You’re kicking me out???” “Only if you start throwing up,” he says under his breath. “I’m not going to throw up!” you exclaim, suddenly becoming very aware of the churning in your stomach. You grumble, slumping over the bar. You squeeze your eyes shut, the spinning in your head only getting worse with every breath you take. You feel like you’re going to die, and honestly, between the embarrassment of being stood up and the wave of nausea coming over you, you’re ready to welcome that death with open arms. “Hey!” Kawanishi says, smacking the bar next to your head. “Your friend’s going to be here soon, don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw you out on the street myself.” “I’m sorry, Kawanishi-san.” You sit up slowly and cradle your head in your hands once more, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Please get here soon, Asahi.

Asahi sprints down the street as fast as he can towards the izakaya. He’s sure that he looks suspicious running down the street alone at night, but he doesn’t care. You’re in trouble, and he’s the only person that can help you. He finally makes it to the bar and hastily pulls the door open. You’re dressed beautifully, and your makeup and hair are exquisitely done. Unfortunately, the way you’re slumped over the bar makes it obvious that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been rough. The bartender gently helps you out of your seat, and Asahi can’t help but think that he looks very familiar. You straighten up and as soon as you make eye contact with Asahi, you perk up. “Asahi-san!” you exclaim, rushing towards him and almost falling over. You crush him in an unexpectedly tight hug. “Long time no see, big guy!” “I saw you three days ago,” he says under his breath. You continue babbling unintelligibly, and Asahi looks up at the bartender. “Did she close out her tab?” Asahi asks. “I took care of it already,” the bartender replies. “Please just make sure she gets home okay. She’s had a rough night.” “Yeah, of course,” Asahi says. “Thanks for helping her out.” “No problem.” Asahi peels your arms off him and starts to nudge you towards the door. Just before the two of you leave, Asahi stops and turns back to the bartender. “Have we met before?” he asks. “I played for Shiratorizawa. Didn’t think I’d see you again, Karasuno Samurai.” Asahi frowns slightly. He hasn’t heard that nickname high school, and it’s weird hearing it again now. “Right,” he says. “Well, thanks again. Have a good night.” Asahi leads you out of the bar and down the sidewalk. You hold tightly to his arm, stumbling over yourself. He braces you against his side, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little bit. “Do you like my outfit, Asahi-san?” you ask, pressing into his side. “Yeah, it’s really nice!” he answers nervously, turning his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s not lying – you look beautiful, both your top and your skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. But it would be wrong to say anything more than that while you’re in this state. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. He brusquely clears his throat and keeps walking as soon as the light signals that you can cross. “I dressed up extra nice tonight, but it didn’t even fucking matter,” you grumble, your voice breaking slightly. Asahi either doesn’t hear you, or does hear you and decides not to say anything. “I’m soooo glad you’re here,” you say, drawing out your words even longer than you were a minute ago. “I’m sorry, this is super embarrassing! I should’ve figured this out on my own.” “It’s okay,” Asahi says. “How long have you been in Tokyo again?” “A month? I think?” “Exactly,” he says. “You probably don’t know your way around that much. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t able to help you find your way home.” “Meh,” you say. “I’ve had the worst night of my fucking life, so maybe it would be better if I passed out in a ditch somewhere.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Asahi asks. “No,” you answer quickly. “Okay.” You start blathering again and Asahi has to practically drag you down the street behind him. The station just past his apartment has a train that can drop you right by your building. He can just take a cab back after he gets you home. He considers inviting you stay the night at his place since it’s right there, but he’s afraid of being weird, so he doesn’t say anything. The two of you come to a stop at the train station… which is closed. “I’m sorry,” Asahi says remorsefully. “I guess the train stopped running at midnight. I’ll call you a cab.” He goes to pull his phone out of his pocket, but you grab his hand before he can. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask sheepishly. “I… my roommate is out of town. And I’m really not doing good right now. I just really don’t want to be alone.” Despite how out of it you’ve been since he picked you up, Asahi sees nothing but complete sincerity in your eyes. Tonight must have been really rough. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ll just sleep on the couch- or a futon if you have one!” you say, nodding. “Okay.” Asahi turns back towards his apartment and you follow closely behind him, not letting go of his hand the entire time.

Asahi helps you across the threshold of his apartment and sits you down on a chair by the door. “Asahi-san, you’re so handsome with your hair down like that,” you say, reaching up to twirl a finger in his long chestnut tresses. “And you’re loopy,” Asahi mutters, disentangling your fingers from his hair. Once again, he finds himself hiding a blush. He’s not used to being showered with compliments, and he knows you wouldn’t be saying this stuff if you were sober. He kicks off his shoes and kneels down in front of you, helping you take yours off. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. “Can I get you some water or a some–” “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in high school?” you ask suddenly. “I think I made it pretty obvious that I had a crush on you. It’s all I could think about when you were holding my hand back there.” “I – I, uh,” Asahi stammers. You burst out laughing, startling Asahi. It’s that same boisterous laugh you’ve had for as long as he could remember knowing you. You were always self-conscious about it in high school, but your laugh has always been one of Asahi’s favorite things about you. Despite the fact that it’s at his expense, he’s glad to see your mood improve. Asahi considers your question for a moment. He really liked you too back then, and everyone knew it. Suga and Daichi constantly teased him for it.

So why hadn’t he asked you out back then?

Well, for a number of reasons. He spent so much of his third year focused on volleyball that he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for much else. He hadn’t even planned on going back to school after graduation until Nishinoya helped convince him to pursue his passions. He felt directionless, and he didn’t want to burden anybody else with his indecision. But most importantly, he was scared you’d reject him. Suga was right. He really was a coward. He’d dated a few people since high school graduation, but none of them made him feel the way you did, and they didn’t treat him as well as you would have. Which begs the question – why hasn’t he asked you out since you moved to Tokyo? He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. This isn’t the kind of conversation to be having when you aren’t even able to form a coherent sentence. Asahi’s thoughts are interrupted by your hand on his shoulder and a loud hiccup. “I should wash my face. Can I wash my face?” “Sure,” Asahi says, helping you stand up. You stumble forward, but he catches you easily and pulls you back to your feet. He quietly leads you to the bathroom and sits you down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m a mess.” “No, you’re not. Hold on a second,” he says, opening the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a small package of makeup wipes and takes one out. He kneels in front of you and begins wiping the makeup off your face. ��I know they’re not great for your skin,” he says. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” “Why do you even have those?” you ask between hiccups. “Do you wear makeup? I mean, it’s obviously fine if you do, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing.” “I don’t, but you never know when they’ll come in handy! I do work with a lot of makeup artists,” he says, somewhat defensively. You get the sense that he’s lying about something, but Asahi changes the subject before you can probe him any further. “So what were you doing there by yourself?” he asks. “It’s not safe to be alone so late at night.” Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask. All the negative emotions and thoughts you were having all even spring to the forefront of your mind, and you start to cry. Asahi starts apologizing profusely, but you wave him off. “It’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Kokomi was trying to set me up with one of her friends, but he never showed up.” Asahi sits back on his heels. Kokomi is another girl from Karasuno that ended up in Tokyo. She wasn’t in the same class as him, but he remembers how loud she always was in the hallways. Honestly, both of you were always loud, but you’ve always been much more considerate of others than Kokomi ever was. “Shit,” he mumbles. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. It does suck.” Asahi grabs another wipe and asks you to close your eyes. You do as he says, and he lightly wipes off your eye makeup. He’s worked with enough models to recognize that you’re wearing false eyelashes, so he gently pulls those off too. You feel yourself start to wobble on the edge of the tub, so you grip his arm to steady yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.” “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” you ask suddenly. “Wait, what?” “I just… this keeps happening to me. Everyone always says that it’s because they’re not the right person for me, but it’s starting to feel like there’s just something wrong with me instead,” you say, choking back a sob. “I know I just moved here, but I’m just so lonely. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough.” Asahi tenderly wipes a tear from your cheek and cups your face in both hands. “Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you,” he says sincerely. “That guy is an idiot and a jerk. If he had any idea how extraordinary you are, he never would’ve done that to you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You don’t feel like you deserve to be spoken to like this – with such genuine kindness and sincerity. Asahi makes you feel so good. So special. He always has. And he’s just so… tender, especially for somebody who looks as intimidating as he does. You wonder if those feelings from high school ever truly went away. You sit up straighter and try to smile at him, but your stomach flips unexpectedly and violently. “Asahi-san?” you ask, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Yeah?” he replies. “Toilet.” Asahi moves out of the way as fast as possible. You hunch over the rim and retch into the toilet bowl. Asahi quickly scoops up your hair and holds it behind your head as you throw up. “Please, just leave me,” you mutter. “I’m gonna fucking die here.” “I’m not going to leave you here and you’re not going to die,” Asahi says, gingerly picking up the last loose strands laying on your neck and holding them back with the rest of your hair. Your back tenses up again before you begin heaving once more. Asahi tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, careful to make sure that he’s out of your field of vision. He wants to be there for you but he had a weak stomach himself and the sight and smell of somebody else’s vomit is something he knows he won’t be able to handle. You mumble weak apologies between hacks, but Asahi just ignores them and rubs your back gently. After what feels like an eternity, the churning in your stomach finally stops and you reach up towards the flush handle. The exhaustion in your body and heart finally begin to catch up with you, and your hand falls back to your side. “I got it. Do you think you’re done?” Asahi asks, coaxing you back up into a seated position. You nod, too tired to try to speak. Asahi quickly tugs his shirt back down from his face before you can see and closes the toilet lid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Don’t be,” Asahi says, flushing the toilet. “I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I’ve already told you that you don’t need to apologize to me.” Asahi helps you sit on the top of the toilet and rises to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, scurrying out of the room. Although your eyes are closed, you still feel your body swaying. More than anything, you just want to go to sleep. Asahi pads back into the room and presses a wooden cup into your hands. “Drink this,” he says, turning on the faucet. Even though drinking something is the last thing you want to be doing right now, you go ahead and lift the cup to your open mouth. Cold water passes your lips and washes away some of the disgusting taste in your mouth. It feels gross, but you force yourself to drink all of it. Asahi takes the cup from your hand and turns the faucet back off. You flinch at the feeling of a damp washcloth on your face. “It’s okay,” Asahi says gently, cradling your chin with his free hand and angling your face up. “Just cleaning you up a little.” You murmur in acknowledgement and Asahi continues to wipe your face down. You almost fall asleep sitting on his toilet, but he gently shakes you to keep you awake. “Stay with me for another minute,” he says softly. “You can go to sleep soon. You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” His words and his voice are so sweet that you want to cry. A couple rogue tears drip from your eyes and onto his hands. “I’m sorry,” you say once more. Asahi sets the washcloth on the counter and starts to pull you to your feet. You struggle to stay on your feet, so instead, he carefully scoops you into his arms and carries you out the bathroom. You don’t care where you go, you just need to sleep. Asahi’s pretty certain you’re asleep by the time he deposits you on his mattress. Your chest rises and falls slowly as he pulls his duvet over you. He begins to make his way to the couch, but stops when he feels you grab his hand. “Please don’t go, Asahi-san,” you whisper. “Please.” You tug harder at his fingers and he knows he can’t refuse you. He ends up sitting on the edge of the bed holding your hand until you fall asleep.

As soon as your quiet snores permeate the silence, Asahi untangles his fingers from yours. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on your sleeping face for just a moment. The moonlight trickling through the window illuminates your hair and casts a silvery glow on your skin. Despite the awful night you’ve had, you look absolutely radiant. He feels himself blushing again, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to try and hide it this time. Not while you’re fast asleep in his bed. He’s far too scared to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fantasized about falling asleep next to you many times before. But in those fantasies you weren’t drunk and crying over another man. Asahi sighs, stands up, and moves over to the dresser as quietly as he can. After setting a few things out for you, he goes into the bathroom, gets ready for bed and heads to the couch for the night.

By the time you wake up in the morning, you feel like you’re going to die. You can’t remember what exactly happened the previous night. The last thing you remember clearly was talking to the bartender about high school volleyball, of all things. Your head’s pounding, and your stomach aches painfully, screaming at you to please eat something. You don’t open your eyes, fearing that it would somehow trigger another round of vomiting. Eventually, you force yourself into a seated position and open your eyes. The bedroom you’re in is small, but pretty well-decorated. It’s decently tidy. The only mess is a few crumpled up clothing designs discarded on the floor next to the trash bin.

Designs? Did that mean?

You’re at Asahi’s apartment. In his bed. Your eyes widen in panic.

What happened last night?

You’re still wearing the clothes that you wore to the bar last night. And there’s no evidence of him ever being in bed with you. You reach over towards your phone, which has been graciously plugged in for you and set on the bedside table. That’s when you notice the note along with a sleeve of crackers and a glass of ginger ale.

Good morning!

There’s a set of clothes you can wear at the foot of the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower if you want. Extra towels are underneath the sink. Please have something to eat and drink too. You’ll feel better if you do.

-Asahi

P.S. Please don’t feel bad. It’s okay.

You grab a few of the crackers from the bedside table and eat them, washing them down with the ginger ale.

Why does Asahi have to be so damn considerate? The whole situation is so embarrassing.

You contemplate just grabbing your phone and getting the hell out of his apartment, but you’re not going to pass up the opportunity to shower. You finish the last of the crackers, chug down the ginger ale, and grab the spare clothes at the end of the bed. You turn the doorknob as silently as you can and awkwardly creep down the hall towards the bathroom, stopping briefly to peek in the living room. Asahi’s fast asleep on the couch, clad only in pajama pants and a pair of fuzzy socks. His hair is down and messily splayed across the throw pillow he’s resting his head on. Quiet snores pass his lips. He looks cute. Your eyes trail from his face and down to his stomach. Despite quitting volleyball after high school, he seems to have mostly maintained his athletic form, except for a tiny little layer of pudge on his lower stomach. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile, until that little voice in the back of your mind reminds you of your place.

Quit staring, you perv! You need to get out of here!

You hurriedly continue down the hallway and jump into the shower as soon as you get into the bathroom. You think that maybe if you clean up fast enough, you can get out of Asahi’s apartment before he wakes up. However, as soon as you step into the shower, all worries about rushing out disappear into the back of your mind. You bask in the hot water, the steam clearing your sinuses and relieving some of the pain in your head. You silently thank the gods that Asahi actually uses conditioner, and not just 3-in-1 like most of the other men you were previously…. acquainted with. Although, it makes sense to you that somebody with hair like Asahi’s would have a strict haircare routine. As you shower, fragmented memories of last night start to come back to you.

Being stood up at the bar. Calling Asahi for help. Puking your guts out in his bathroom. Him carrying you into his room and laying you down on his bed. Him staying by your side until you fell asleep. You wishing he would’ve crawled into bed with you and held you through the night… Wait, what was that last part?

As soon as you’re done rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower and swiftly towel off. You find the spare toothbrush Asahi mentioned, take it out of the packaging, and brush your teeth with his toothpaste. The dry, gross feeling in your mouth is quickly replaced with a minty fresh taste. You slip on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Asahi left for you and dry your hair. Thankfully, Asahi isn’t as huge as most people make him out to be, so while the clothes he left out are a bit big on you, you’re not drowning in them. You’ll just bring them back some other day. You start combing through your hair, and that’s when you hear it – the sound of somebody padding around in the apartment. Shit. Once the footsteps quiet down, you rush out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Asahi eyes you as you scoop up your shoes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good morning!” he says kindly. “How are you feeling?” “I’m so sorry Azumane-san, it won’t happen again!” you say as you throw open the door and rush into the hallway. “Hold on, wait up!” he says as you pull the door closed behind you. You run all the way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and go to call Kokomi for a ride home. That’s when you realize that your phone is still plugged into the wall in Asahi’s room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You turn around and trudge back towards his apartment. Before you can even knock, the door opens slowly. Asahi stands there in just his pajama pants, holding your phone out to you. “You shouldn’t leave without your phone,” he says. You thank him and take your phone, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You try not to stare at his bare chest, already feeling like a creep for ogling him while he was sleeping. “Your clothes are still in the bathroom, too,” he says. “I can go get them for you. Or I can just wash them and give them back to you another time if you want to leave.” “No, that’s okay,” you say, covering your flushing cheeks with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll get them. Can I come in?” “Of course.” Asahi steps out of your way and you head straight for the bathroom, avoiding looking in his eyes. Asahi never gets angry, and you know he wouldn’t be mad at you over something like this, but a lingering sense of shame still washes over you. You scoop up your clothes and leave the bathroom. As soon as you cross the threshold into the living room, the smell of coffee and frying fish washes over you. Asahi stands in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. In the time that you were in the bathroom, he put on a Black Jackals sweatshirt and threw his hair into a loose bun. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks, smiling at you and pouring his own cup. “It’ll help with the hangover.” You stand there and ponder his offer for a moment. Sensing your hesitancy, Asahi suddenly turns back to the stove and mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” you ask. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since you were kids. “I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or anything! I just thought it might help for you to have something more than crackers and ginger ale.” “You’ve done plenty to help me since last night,” you say. “But I’ll take that coffee if the offer is still on the table.” “It is!” Asahi says a little too enthusiastically for his own good. You can’t help but smirk as you take your seat at the kitchen table. Asahi pours you a cup of coffee and slides you a bowl of the rice and fish he made. You thank him quietly and start to eat. He slides into the chair across from you and eats his own breakfast, eyeing you carefully. “What?” you ask after catching him staring. “Since when have you ever called me Azumane-san?” he asks. “I don’t know,” you mumble into your coffee mug. “I didn’t think we reverted back from first name basis,” he says. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” “I don’t know,” you say, a devilish smile crossing your face. “Care to explain why you actually had those makeup wipes in your bathroom drawer? I doubt your makeup artists are coming over to your apartment.” Now it’s Asahi’s turn to blush again. “My ex-girlfriend left them here,” he says. “Felt like a waste to just throw them out.” “Ex-girlfriend?!” you exclaim suddenly, startling Asahi and causing him to drop the wipe on the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” “Yeah,” he says, throwing the wipe in the trash and grabbing a fresh one. “We broke up a while before you moved to the city. She left a bunch of her stuff here and refused to come pick it up. I think she was just too embarrassed to see me again. I got rid of most of it a while ago, but I kept some of the more… uh, utilitarian things.” “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “Why did you break up?” Asahi feels a slight pang in his chest. He met his last girlfriend through his job. She was nice enough, and things seemed like they were going okay until he showed up at her apartment to surprise her for their 6 month anniversary, only to find another man in her bed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s fine. She cheated on me with some other guy,” he says, his expression darkening. “I think they’re engaged now.” “Shit,” you say. “What a bitch.” “Woah, settle down, it’s okay –” “No, it’s not,” you say firmly. “You deserve someone way better than that. Somebody that treats you with the love and respect that you deserve.” Asahi knows you’re right, but he doesn’t really want to press it. That whole mess had done a number on his mental health, and he really doesn’t want to burden you with his emotional baggage. He adjusts his glasses again and forces a smile. “You know, you should really take your own advice,” he says. You try to think back on what you had said to him last night. The details are fuzzy, but you remember crying. A lot. Instead of answering him, you shovel down the last of the rice and fish. “Thank you for the meal,” you say. Asahi smiles and nods at you before beginning to clear the dishes away. You stand up and stop him, insisting that you clean up yourself. As you finish drying the bowls, your phone buzzes. You check it, only to see a handful of missed texts from Kokomi.

Ono Kokomi [8:32} Hey!! Sorry I missed your call. How was he? (°◡°♡) [9:14] That good? (^.~)☆ [9:18] Or that bad?! (;;;*_*) [9:57] HELLO?? (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ [10:32] ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!?! 〣( ºΔº )〣

You roll your eyes and quickly type out your response.

Y/N [10:33] Yeah, no thanks to you. (￢_￢;)

Ono Kokomi [10:34] Was it really that bad?

Y/N [10:34] He didn’t even show up. (╥_╥) [10:34] Azumane picked me up at 2 AM because I was too drunk to go home alone. I stayed the night at his place. [10:34] Speaking of which, can you come pick me up? Not really in a state to take the train and I think you owe me one.

Ono Kokomi [10:35] (⊙_⊙) [10:35] Spill. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Y/N [10:36] There’s nothing to spill. I threw up in his bathroom and he slept on the couch. Can you just answer my question please? (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

Ono Kokomi [10:36] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, lovebird. (￣ε￣＠)

“Everything okay?” Asahi asks. “Yeah,” you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Kokomi’s going to come pick me up.” “Are you sure? I can take you if you want,” he offers. “Yeah, she’s already on her way,” you say, setting the bowl down and turning to face him. “Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me already over the last twelve hours.” You silently pick up your things and walk towards the door. Asahi rises from his chair and awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you have all your stuff?” You nod and smile. Before you open the door, you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. He shyly hugs you back, hoping you can’t hear the rapid pounding in his chest. “Thank you, Asahi,” you whisper. “You’re amazing.” You let go first and leave his apartment quietly. As soon as the door closes, Asahi walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans. This morning was almost too much for him – seeing you in his clothes, eating breakfast together, you hugging him before you left. It was all so painfully domestic, and he wishes it didn’t have to end. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve asked you to stay longer. He doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally decides to get moving for the day and finish that piece he was working on when you called last night. He checks his phone and sees your name pop up on the screen.

Y/N [11:00] I’m home. Thanks again for babysitting me last night. Whatever did I do to deserve you as my guardian angel? ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ [11:00] Or was that Noya-san? I forget. (^ω~)

Azumane Asahi [11:01] Lol. You’re welcome. And that was what we called Noya in our club days, but I don’t mind you calling me that too (* ^ ω ^)

Y/N [11:03] Let me make it up to you. [11:04] Come over for dinner tomorrow night?

Asahi almost drops his phone on his face. His fingers fumble as he types his response. He waits a moment before sending it, rereading it ten times to make sure he doesn’t come across as desperate.

Azumane Asahi [11:07] I’d love to. Do you want me to bring anything?

Y/N [11:08] That’s not necessary. I owe you a nice dinner. [11:09] You still like tonkotsu ramen?

Azumane Asahi [11:10] I do!

Y/N [11:11] It’s a date! See you tomorrow! (☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

“You said nothing happened last night,” Kokomi says, staring over your shoulder at your phone. “Nothing happened, Kokomi. Now leave me alone,” you snap, tossing one of your throw pillows at her. She deftly catches it and plops down on the couch next to you. “Please,” she says, swatting you with the pillow. “The only reason you two haven’t gotten together is because you’re the densest people on the planet. I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” “Shut up,” you grumble. Kokomi’s phone rings and she quickly checks it. “Anyway, I have to go meet Kaito,” she says. “Got to go. Let me know how your date goes!” She waves and practically skips out the front door. You lay down and start making a shopping list for ingredients for tonkatsu ramen. As soon as you’re done, you set your phone down and cross your arms over your face.

“I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” No, Kokomi. That’s me.

#asahi azumane #azumane asahi #asahi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fic writer #asahi x female reader #asahi x you #asahi x yn

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drowsy-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Snadgers and Casts — regulus black x reader

Summary: After a mishap during Quidditch practice, Regulus is sent to the hospital wing. Good thing Reader's there to cheer him up.

Warning: nothing except for tooth rotting fluff

Notes: reader is a Hufflepuff and goes by she/her pronouns. Also for those who haven’t seen gravity falls, there’s a picture of a snadger at the end :) thanks for reading!

Everyone knows how violent Quidditch can get. Some people fell and broke a few bones, others got their jaws shattered by a Bludger, and an unlucky few met their untimely ends whilst chasing the Snitch; all in all, Quidditch was not a sport for the faint hearted. And Regulus Black was far from faint hearted. But invincible? He was not.

Laying in one of the beds within the Hospital Wing, Regulus fiddled with the bandages littering his fingers as he waited for Madam Pomfrey to come back from her daily rounds. Quidditch practice that day had gone on like usual until one of the newer players, whose name Regulus ought to know but forgot, miscalculated a hit on a Bludger and sent it barreling towards Regulus. The hit itself wasn’t too painful but the impact was powerful enough to knock Regulus off his broom and hit the ground with a gut-wrenching crunch.

Now, sitting with an obnoxiously large cast on his right leg and bandages lining both his fingers and face, Regulus sat in his bed with a deep frown.

“Any higher,” Madam Pomfrey had said whilst putting on the cast,” and you’d have much more to worry about than a broken bone.”

Regulus huffed as he tried to move his foot around, only succeeding in wiggling the toes that were peeking out from underneath the cast. He supposed it could’ve been worse, like diving head first into the stands or slamming into a wall, and had half heartedly agreed to Madam Pomfrey to ‘take it easy’ the next couple of days. Regulus chuckled to himself. As if he was one to take anything easy.

“You look like shit,” a voice said. Regulus looked up and despite his best efforts to maintain his signature scowl, the corners of his lips jutted upwards as his friend since 2nd year walked towards him,“must’ve been quite the fall, eh? How’d it feel?”

“What kind of question is that?” Regulus furrowed his brows in amusement as he saw [Y/N] drop her bag into the chair next to her and plop herself down on the edge of the bed,” you know you can use the chair to sit, right? It’s not a coat hanger.”

“Oh, I know,” the Hufflepuff smiled as she leaned back and ran a hand over the cast,” just that I want’ta get a closer look, is all. Heard McLaughlin was the one that made ya fall. Cute kid but an utter clutz I hear.”

“Has terrible aim, too.”

“You’re telling me,” [Y/N] giggled. She looked back at Regulus and the smile that danced on her lips grew wider. Regulus straightened his back and subconsciously swallowed an invisible gulp of air.

“[L/N]?,” Regulus’s voice wavered,” what are you planning?”

“Nothing. Why’d you ask? Something on my face?” [Y/N] smiled again and, jumping up from the edge of the bed, rummaged through her bag until she pulled out a thick, black sharpie. Regulus’s eyes shot up and his back, despite the frigid air of the hospital wing, began to sweat.

“Don’t you write anything stupid on me, [Y/N].”

“I’m not writing on you, Reg. I’m writing on your cast.”

“It’s still on me, though.”

“Potato, tomato. There’s a difference.”

‘That’s not how it—,” Regulus sighed as he slumped further into the mattress, watching as [Y/N] shuffled over to his foot with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes,”—just don’t write anything stupid, please.”

“You already said that,” [Y/N] said as she began to doodle. The sound of marker on fiberglass stung Regulus’s ears and he recoiled slightly, jerking his leg away from [Y/N],” hey! Stop moving! You’re gonna mess it up.”

“I’m sure it’ll be alright,” Regulus mumbled. As the room fell silent, Regulus watched as [Y/N] continued to draw on his leg. A soft smile played on his features as he watched [Y/N]’s face contort in concentration, tongue stuck out in deep thought. He felt a familiar warmth blossom in his chest and slowly creep up to his cheeks. As his face reddened, Regulus quickly looked away and found that the small scratches on the bedside table were far more interesting than whatever his friend was doing.

Sparing a glance towards [Y/N], Regulus saw her smile once again and stand up triumphantly.

“Take a looksie, Reg.”

Shifting his foot around so he can see, Regulus couldn’t help but hold back a quiet laugh.

“Is that supposed to be a snake? What’s wrong with its head?”

“No. It’s a Snadger,” [Y/N] pointed at the crude drawing and circled her finger around what appeared to be a head of a badger placed on the body of a snake,” y’know? Like a snake and a badger?”

“Sure. But why’s it look angry?”

“It’s not angry! It’s smiling. Can’t you see the teeth?” Regulus’s smile grew wider as he watched [Y/N]’s cheeks turn red in frustration. Combing a hand through his ebony locks, Regulus looked back down at the drawing and laughed once again. [Y/N]’s face turned a shade darker as the Slytherin continued to laugh,” what’s so funny? At least I can draw.”

“No, it’s just that—,” Regulus took a deep breath to compose himself before looking back at [Y/N], watching as she nervously shifted her weight from one side to the other,”—thank you, [Y/N]. I needed a laugh.”

“Course you do. You’re always so uptight about everything,” [Y/N] said. She threw the marker on to the chair and plopped herself down on the bed next to Regulus, ”bet if I shoved a coal up your ass, there’d be a diamond in a week.”

“Very funny, [Y/N],” Regulus sighed as he glanced down at his bandaged fingers and picked at one of the loose Band-Aids. A [S/C] hand stopped Regulus from picking it any further and caused his gaze to flutter upwards. With a lopsided grin, [Y/N] laughed as she intertwined her fingers with Regulus’s. He raised a brow,” what are you planning now?”

“Nothing,” [Y/N] leaned closer to Regulus and the Slytherin swore he felt his heart stop for a second. Eyes drifting from [Y/N]’s gaze to her mouth, Regulus felt his own mouth get dry as the Hufflepuff whispered in his ear,” just can’t wait till you read what’s on the other side.”

“What?” Regulus’s face paled.

[Y/N] let go of Regulus’s hand as she jumped off the bed and threw her bag over her shoulder.

“See you tomorrow in class, Reggie,” [Y/N] smiled as she spun around and began to walk towards the Hospital Wing’s doors. Regulus quickly sat up and leaned over, a mix of panic and confusion drenching his features.

“What did you do, [Y/N]?! What did you write? I told you if you wrote anything stupid—!”

“Oh, calm down, Black!” [Y/N] called from the door,” it’s nothing too ludicrous! Well I mean—all that matters is that it’s funny! Don’t worry about it! Everyone’ll get a kick out of it!”

“Merlin, what did she—?” Regulus tried and failed to raise his leg,” [Y/N]? [Y/N]! Hey! Get back here! Tell me what you wrote! [Y/N]!”

----

here’s a Snadger :) and yes, reader wrote the snadger and drew hearts around it as well

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagines #reader insert #hufflepuff #slytherin #slytherpuff #fluff

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ihearthes · 4 years ago

Photo

Golden Rod

(inspired by Golden MV)

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person) Rating: Smut (18+ only) Word Count: 2829

“Thanks for the ride, Ryan!” you call, waving at Lambert’s assistant as he drives away to the garages on the Vesta. “Ciao!”

Excited to show Harry your new lingerie, you enter the villa where the team has been staying. “Is he done for the day, Ben?” The words are muffled behind the cloth mask you’ve insisted is essential despite the drop in Italy’s coronavirus cases.

The Fulwell 73 producer points upstairs without a word before bending over the video footage he’s scouring with the director. The opulent surroundings have been modernized, and you grin while mounting the stairs to the top floor where the master suite consumes the entire space. From the expansive open windows, you view the Tyrrhenian Sea, causing you to literally pinch yourself. How had life blessed you in such a way? Giddy, you continue up the stone steps.

Kicking off your sandals, you curl your toes into the cool, smooth tile. Fuck. This had been the perfect day. Swimming in the infinity pool during the morning with endless fresh fruits at your fingertips whenever you stepped out of the water to feel the warm sun on your skin. A socially distanced lunch of Insalata Di Mare Campanese (Seafood Salad) with Molly in a local restaurant. A trip to the stores with the adorable stylist Ryan -- where he’d introduced you to a new designer of gloriously sexy lingerie!

You’d bought four pieces.

Harry was going to love all of them, and you couldn’t wait to showcase them in your own private fashion show on the secure top floor of the Italian villa.

Stopping in the marbled bathroom, you draw in a deep breath at the chill on your heated feet. Quickly, you wash your hands, singing “Happy Birthday” twice like you’d been taught to ensure 20 seconds has elapsed. No way were you going to be responsible for inadvertently passing along the virus to your boyfriend during the Golden music video shoot. He’d end up missing out on filming the music video and the upcoming Don’t Worry Darling if he tested positive. Carefully removing your mask, you toss it into the laundry hamper before washing your hands a second time.

Tiptoeing out of the bath, you wonder where the man of the hour might be. Napping? Nope. Not in the bed. On the loggia, you spy Harry settled in a chair, staring into space.

“Can’t blame you, Styles. That’s one hell of a view.” Gazing over the colorful boats moored in the sea near the coast, your eyes feast on the sky with its tints of reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges as the sun begins to sink into the water. Honestly, you expect to hear a sizzle as the bright ball of gases descends into the blue serenity of the sea.

“Indeed.” His quiet voice doesn’t sound normal for Harry, and you approach slowly, like one might a wounded deer. Wouldn’t want to frighten him away.

“Harry!” The gasp leaves your throat, and you press your hand to your mouth to capture the sound too late as it has already escaped. “What the hell happened to your knee?”

He shrugs, finally glancing in your direction. “Skinned it. Hi, love. Did you have a good day?”

“I had a beautiful day, but what the fuck did you do to your knee?” Crouching down, you examine the spot where blood is flowing. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but enough that you want to clean it. “My poor baby,” you coo, “Let me clean that for you.”

Rising, you glide to the bathroom again.

“Bring some ice too, love,” he requests, tacking on a “please” at the last minute.

Stopping in the suite’s tiny kitchen, you search the small freezer for ice as requested. Ransacking the cabinets in the bathroom, you manage to locate cotton balls, an antiseptic, and a bandage. Returning to Harry, you kneel at his feet. “This might sting a bit.” Cautiously, you cover the cotton ball with the antiseptic and press it to his wound.

He winces, but the only sound he releases is a mild hiss.

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not a big deal, love.”

As the blood vanishes with its absorption into the cotton ball, you agree with him. The wound is relatively minor. Should form a scab in the next day or so. Carefully, you remove the adhesive from the bandage and press it over the small scratch.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you tease, “you’ll heal soon enough.”

“Gonna run that one into the ground, aren’t you?” he jokes.

“Might as well,” your shrug, grinning. “Don’t worry, H. You’re so golden.” His smile gives away his mirth at the pun. “Soon enough, you’ll be done filming, and moving on to something else. And I’ll give you hell about whatever the next thing is too.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he confesses with intense eye contact, and your insides start to flutter.

As an afterthought, you hold up a bag of frozen peas. “No ice, H. I’m so American that I forgot Europeans don’t do much ice. Will this do?”

“Sure.” Grabbing the bag of peas, he smirks before placing it on his crotch.

You raise an eyebrow. “Your dick needs ice?”

His eyes rake over you. “Kind of went running without an athletic supporter today.”

Planting your hands on your hips, you glare at him. “Why would you damage the goods like that?”

Raising his shoulders, he grins, “The fans will love it.”

Your lower lip juts out as you pout at him. “Does that mean it’s off limits to me?”

“It’s sore, love. Not broken.” Harry emphasizes, but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

“But I’ve got lingerie,” you state clearly.

He sits up quickly, shifting the bag of frozen peas on his crotch. “You do?”

“Yep.” You allow the ‘P’ to pop. “Ryan introduced me to a new designer. I bought four sets.”

“Fuck,” he breathes.

“Not with your dick wounded,” you remind him with a tiny hitch in your breathy voice.

“Fuck,” he repeats.

“Should I model the first one or wait until tomorrow?” You’re definitely pushing the envelope here, yet how dare he give fans priority to his most precious bits?!

Eyes darkening, he sweeps his gaze over your light trousers and loose shirt. “Ummmm...now please.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t want you to hurt your dick more.”

The exasperated roll of his eyes makes you smile. “I wanna see, love.”

Examining him, you come to the conclusion that he’s an adult and knows what he wants. With a nod, you grasp the handle of the bag from the designer. “Be right back!” Hurrying to the bedroom, you set the bag down before rummaging in it for the most sedate look: a white lacy baby doll bit that hits mid-thigh and comes with a long peignoir. Putting on frilly high heeled slipper with it, you strut in front of him with the robe tightly covering your body, watching as his eyes darken.

“Like this one?”

“Shit, love. It’s…”

When you part the edges to reveal the concoction underneath, Harry has to catch his breath, shifting in the seat as he adjusts the frozen peas.

“Hot?” you taunt.

“Mhm. Come here, and check my temperature.” His voice is throaty, and you recognize the signs quite easily.

“Nope. Three more to go before I get within touching distance, H. Sorry.”

“Dammit,” He mockingly shakes his head. “You know I could easily see all of them on separate nights. Let’s just start with this one.”

Purposely, you push your lip out in a pout. “But then the other lingerie would get jealous, and Ryan went to a lot of effort to get me a private viewing. After all, this stuff isn’t available to the general public.”

“No?” He sighs, and you catch the hitch in his comment. “Bring on the second one then.”

Confidently, you swagger from the room. With shaky hands, you withdraw the bright red lace camisole and boy short. Is this the appropriate one to wear next? The red might just push him over the edge. Best to stay out of his reach then. Smirking, you pull the outfit on and waltz onto the balcony with a twirl, your hair on pointe as its curls bounced with you.

“Holy fuck. That’s the second one?” His strangled cry makes you laugh in joy.

“How’s that cock feeling now?” you gesture in the direction of his crotch.

“The peas have melted I believe.”

“Mhm. Maybe you should go get something else from the freezer then.”

“Nah. I’d rather you come get this bag for me. I might be too injured to walk inside.”

“Oh, you’re so funny. I know this game. I get close to you, and the other two lingerie outfits never see the light of day. Nope. You want more frozen food for your genitals, you can get it yourself.” Laughing, you smack your rounded ass as you amble into the bedroom again.

“Fuck!” Harry yells behind you.

The dialogue combined with the strutting has your pussy feeling damp as the waves of arousal rush over you. Sure you’d fucked last night, but today was a new day, and you wanted to feel that dick inside you -- regardless of the damage he did by jogging in the city for the video.

The third one is pink -- and you’re well aware from experience how much Harry loves pink. The baby doll dress is silk and lands just at the top of your thighs with a black lace bodice that laces in the middle. Kind of laces anyway. Plenty of boob still visible. Or barely hidden. Whichever you prefer.

“Oh my god. You’re killing me!” Harry whines as you parade just out of his reach. When he starts to rise, you shake a finger at him.

“No, no, H. You need to recuperate from running today. Better stay seated.”

He chokes as you twist around to show him all sides, including the g-string with its bare backside.

“You’re evil!” he calls as you dance back into the bedroom.

This is the final one, and you prepare carefully. It takes extra time to put on, and you smile as you observe your image in the room’s mirror. Deftly, you slip a couple of condoms in the bodice of the bralette.

You find a playlist of romantic Italian music and set it to play on the Bluetooth speaker in the bedroom, ensuring the volume is high enough to be heard on the loggia.

Harry gasps the moment he sees you. “You’re not wearing anything under that!”

Playfully you glance down at the last lingerie set. “Oh, damn. I guess when I put the garter skirt and stockings on, I must have forgotten the panties. Forgive me?”

His head bobs up and down as he gulps.

“Now,” you murmur, approaching him. Grasping a pillow from a nearby chair, you plop it on the floor in front of him, settling on your knees there. “I think the best thing is if I take a look at this dick to make sure you didn’t do too much damage.”

Removing the no-longer-frozen peas, you toss the bag to the side. No one will be eating those. Ever. Silently, Harry waits while you carefully peel down the top of his elasticized shorts and remove his cock. You have to catch your breath every time you get to glimpse it, and today is no exception.

Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips as you hold his rigid length in your hand, your eyes flickering up to his where he’s staring intently at you. Maintaining eye contact, you run your tongue over the tip of his cock, paying extra attention to the slit there.

“Mmmm,” you murmur. “The tip seems to be okay. Let me check the length.”

Using your saliva as lubrication, you run your hands down his shaft to his balls. “Doesn’t appear to be broken,” you smirk, “In fact, seems pretty solid and firm to me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Might want to apply some suction there, love, just in case.”

You don’t really care what he means by that last phrase. You’re more than happy to test out the equipment to ensure that it’s in full working order. Spreading his legs more firmly, you lean in, sliding his entire dick into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Harry grasps the hair at the back of your hand, bunching it in his hand as he guides you along his length. You hear him sigh, and you’re confident he’s tilted his head back and closed his eyes, but when you glance at him, you find that his eyes are still on your lips.

Fuck. It turns you on even more, and you can feel your pussy dripping onto the pillow. You make a mental note to remove the cover and wash it before leaving the villa.

As your lips glide along him, you’re frustrated at not having full access to him. As you apply suction to his tip, you pop off him with an audible sound. Both of your hands reach for the waistband of his shorts, and you gently encourage him -- “Lift your bum, H” -- so you can fully remove the garment, throwing it over your shoulder and hoping it doesn’t sail into the pool below. Harry smiles, adjusting his stance into the biggest man spread you’ve ever seen.

Before you return to your ministrations on his cock, you grasps your chin, drawing your face forward and upwards until he can lock lips with you.

“Not much longer, love, or I’ll explode.”

“I don’t mind,” you purr.

“Mhm. But if we’re fully going to test the equipment, then that should include more than a bj.”

“Ah, I see,” you grin. “But of course. We want to be thorough.”

First, though, you are compelled to play with his balls, so you take him into your mouth again, adding one hand to his length while the fingers on the other play with the balls underneath. Fuck. You could do this all day. Breathing through your nose, you deepthroat him and suck for a solid ten seconds before you release him completely.

With a grin, you stand, kicking aside the pillow. “Hmmmmm...trying to decide the best way to do this.” Your voice has a catch in it, and you wipe your mouth before bending over and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Tongue darting forward, you taste him, allowing him to suckle your tongue briefly.

As you come up for air, Harry moves his legs together while slipping his hand between yours and nudging your legs apart. With one finger he teases your clit, flicking it from side to side as he watches your face and eases another digit inside you. Oh hell. This feels…

“Fuck, H.”

“You’re so tight, baby. Come sit here. Let’s test out the equipment. Make sure everything works properly.”

At his invitation, you step forward as he shifts his bum down on the chair a bit.

“Shit. I forgot…”

With his words, you remove the first condom from your bralette where it has conveniently been nuzzling your nipple, the hard corner of the foil packet hardening your nip.

Grasping his dick, he uses the tip to slap at your pussy a few times before using your internal juices to lubricate himself. Your eyes roll back into your head as the two of you work together so you can slide onto him without any additional moments wasted.

When you’re fully seated on his dick, you grind just for a moment.

“Hmmmm...seems sturdy enough,” you pant.

“Oh, you’re so funny,” he drawls, but his eyes roll back in his head when you glide along his length, your stockinged thighs surrounded by his large hands. “Fuck, love.”

“Working on it,” you laugh breathlessly as the rhythm becomes easier. His hands move to your arse as he assists you in riding him.

Draping your arms over his shoulders, you shake your tits in his face, and he grins as he bends his head to press a kiss at the juncture of your boobs.

As your climax begins to arrive, your movements become less steady and more sporadic. Harry, knowing you as he does, reaches between your bodies to tease your clit as you throw your head back and cry out two thrusts before his seed spurts into the condom and his eyes roll back into his head. Spent, you collapse on his chest, still joined.

“I think,” you whisper as you kiss his neck while playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, “we can agree that the equipment still works just fine. No damage here.” Picking up your head, you glare at him. “But no more, H! What’s mine is mine. The fans get enough of you.”

He laughs as his arms surround you, and he buries his head in your shoulder.

“Of course, love. Whatever you say.”

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers. If you liked this even just a little tiny bit, please take a second to reblog so that others might find it. Getting likes is nice, but it doesn’t help me grow my readership. Thanks for your consideration!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #my writing #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #1d imagine #harry styles reader insert #original writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #sorry I'm so slow at getting this one finished!#please let me know what you think

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