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captainsophiestark · 5 months ago

Text

Filed Away

Agent Carter Gen

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Written for "Do As Peggy Says: An Agent Carter Zine"! If you haven't checked it out yet, find the finished zine here or check us out @agentcarterzine!

Fandom: Agent Carter

Summary: The AC Chaos Trio are looking for leads on the person who shot Jack, but it's a little harder when the New York SSR's file room is such a mess.

Word Count: 2,101

Category: Angst, Fluff, Humor

A/N: Special shoutout and thanks to @ghostofskywalker, both for being the best co-mod I could've asked for and for letting me have fun with her SSR file room headcanon, one of my favorites of all time!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Hey!" called Jack, his voice ringing out and shattering the otherwise quiet peace of the office. "Either of you pull the file we had on that European crime syndicate a while back?"

Peggy and Daniel sighed in sync, taking their time bringing their eyes from their work to their friend. Jack still looked a little paler than normal, still recovering from the bullet wound that'd nearly killed him and definitely pushing himself too soon. But his haughty posture and attitude didn't drop for a second as he stared down his friends, hands on his hips.

"No, I haven't pulled it yet," answered Daniel, leaning back in his chair and turning to Peggy. "You?"

"No, although it may be a good lead to follow up on."

"Great," Jack huffed. "I don't suppose there's any way I can convince you to go grab that file for me? Since you think it's a good lead and all."

"Not a chance in this or any other world, Jack."

"Fine. Then I guess I'll be back."

With that, Jack turned and headed for the file room of the New York SSR. Peggy kept a very neutral expression on her face until he'd passed, then turned to Daniel with her mouth quirked up in a smile.

The two shared a knowing look, neither surprised when, a moment later, Jack's voice came shouting from the file room

"What the hell is this?"

A moment later, the blond reappeared, a furious scowl on his face. Peggy and Daniel just watched him calmly, nonplussed.

"Either of you wanna tell me why it looks like a bomb went off in my file room?" Jack asked, crossing his arms as he watched his two friends. Peggy just shrugged.

"I'd say most likely it's because the Chief in this office hasn't set foot in that room once in the past year or more that he's been Chief."

Jack narrowed his eyes at Peggy, but she didn't budge. Finally, he sighed, rolling his eyes and throwing up his hands in defeat.

"Fine. Whatever. You 've made your point, I shouldn't have dumped all my filing on you and Sousa. Congratulations. Now what's the plan for actually finding this information we need to get to start tracking down leads on the guy who shot me?"

Peggy sighed. She looked to Daniel, who gave her a shrug, then finally turned back to Jack.

"I suppose the three of us are just going to have to stay here and keep digging until we find it."

****************

Peggy had been right on the verge of telling Jack that he'd just have to sit in the file room all night looking for their case, since he was the one who'd cause the problem in the first place by refusing to ever do his own filing. But they needed to get the wheels turning on their case sooner rather than later, and the best way to do that was by finding this file, which would simply go faster if they worked together. So, here they were, sprawled around the SSR's file room with papers spread all around them, searching together for what they needed.

"Hey, you remember this?" asked Daniel, holding out the file he'd been scanning through to Peggy. "we caught that guy trying to copy a bunch of Stark's work."

Peggy took the file and scanned it quickly, then huffed.

"Oh yes, I remember him. I didn't tihnk it was possible to build a more unstable version of Howard's muscle relaxer, but somehow he managed."

"I have never been happier to not be on a case with the two of you," Jack chimed in. "And that's saying something."

Peggy scoffed and gave the file one last look before tossing it on the floor beside her. She leaned her back against the filing cabinet she'd been sitting in front of and let out a long sigh. They'd been in here searching for any lead, including the crime syndicate, for so long that the sky was just starting to lighten outside the window.

"This is turning into a massive waste of time," Peggy said, looking between Jack and Daniel. "If we think this case is tied to that nonsense file on me that Jack got in London, then I think it's time we just go to London and do some investgating on our own. There's no guarantee of a lead on whoever shot Thompson in this files anyway, so we may as well go be on the ground following up on things ourselves."

Daniel sighed and set down his own stack of files. "I agree. We're wasting time and resources here, we need to go follow up on leads in person."

"Jack?" asked Peggy, turning to the unusually quiet Thompson. "What do you think?"

Jack didn't respond. Instead, he kept staring holes in the wall just over Peggy's head. She shared a brief, concerned look with Daniel, then turned back to Thompson.

"Jack?" Peggy prompted, leaning forward just enough to give him a light nudge with her foot. He cleared his throat and plastered on a smile that didn't convince either of the experienced agents in the room with him.

"Yeah, I guess we'd better book some plane tickets. Home is calling you, Carter."

Peggy frowned. "Thompson, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said with a shrug. "Other than being stuck in this room so long the sun's starting to come up."

"Thompson," Peggy repeated, a sterner, disbelieving tone to her voice. Jack looked between her and Daniel, finding the same steely, not-letting-this-go look on both their faces. He sighed and rolled his eyes, then stood.

"Knock it off, both of you," he said. "I'm fine."

Peggy scoffed, not budging rom her seat on the floor.

"That is clearly not true," she said. Jack rolled his eyes, but Daniel picked up right where Peggy's left off.

"You're not a bad liar, Jack, but I don't think you coulda sold Samberly on that one."

Jack shook his head, but he didn't leave the file room either. If he'd tried, Daniel was ready with his crutch in one hand to trip Jack up and make him stay and talk, if all else failed. Instead, he crossed to the window in the back of the room, looking out at the city as the morning crowd was just starting to wake up, the night owls finally heading for bed. Peggy just watched him, employing her favorite interogation tactic of leaving a silence for the other person to eventually fill.

Jack did not disappoint. He spoke after a moment, his voice quieter and free of the usual bluster.

"You just don't ever expect to come back from the war only to almost bite it at home, you know?"

Peggy glanced over at Daniel. They both knew how that felt.

Peggy got to her feet, moving to stand just a little closer to Jack. Enough for a more serious conversation, but not crowding him. She leaned against one of the now-empty file racks as Daniel also got to his feet behind her.

"None of us like to think about that aspect of our jobs, Jack," Peggy said. "And if we think about it too much, it makes us worse at our jobs. But knowing that doesn't mean much when we're forced to think about it."

"Exactly," Daniel agreed, coming to stand beside her. "I mean, I wasn't Krzeminski's best friend, but losing him hurt for more reasons than one. Being reminded we're still risking our lives on the regular always hurts."

Jack shook his head, still not turning around.

"I think I came closer to dying here than I did over there. Every time somebody knocks on my door I freeze, like it might be that masked son of a bitch coming back to finish the job."

"That's normal, Jack," Peggy said softly. "And it's worse in a way, to know that death can find you here, too, where we're supposed to be safe from the things we faced and fought in the war. But you're not alone in dealing with it, and it will get better."

"And besides, we're around now. Anybody who wants to take another shot at you will have to go through us first."

Jack snorted, but he finally turned away from the window to face Peggy and Daniel.

"Thanks, you two. I'm sure I'll be fine. It's just..."

"We know," Peggy said, stepping in as Jack trailed off. "Out of anyone, Jack, we understand."

He nodded, not quite able to muster a response as he looked between his two friends. They gave him tight smiles and nods back, sharing the rare serious moment between the three of them. Then, Daniel sighed and fixed Jack with a grin.

"You know, if anybody's gonna take a shot at you again, it'll probably be me or Peggy. Nobody else stands a chance, they'll have to get in line."

"Other than perhaps the next agent who needs to find something in here," Peggy added. She turned to scan the room as Jack snorted at them both, his usual swagger and confidence returning to replace the vulnerability. "That agent will likely be comeing for us all, and with good reason."

"Yeah, speaking of which, what do we want to do about all this?" asked Daniel. In their effort to find the file they'd first been looking for, they'd torn the room apart, leaving boxes and files in a more disorganized mess than when they'd started--which was really saying something. "I mean, do we want to do something about it? Like... organize it, finally?"

No one answered right away, the three agents instead standing in silence, shoulder to shoulder as they surveyed the destroyed space around them. Light from outside was just starting to creep through as Peggy and Daniel at last turned to Jack.

"You're the one who still works out of this office," Peggy said with a shrug. "What do you want to do."

Jack sighed, long and heavy, then threw his hands up in defeat.

"Screw it. It's not like it was that much better before, and we got along fine. Besides, if I'm still stuck in this room when the sun comes I'm, I'm gonna lose it. Let's get out of here and get some plane tickets and breakfast. Somebody else can deal with this later."

Peggy grinned. "I think that sounds like an excellent idea. Are you taking orders?"

"You know, Carter, I would, but I'd rather all three of us get the hell out of this office to go somewhere else instead."

"Maybe we can find a place that'll make us beans on toast, or whatever the hell you people eat over there," Daniel added with a look towards Peggy as the three headed out of the file room. She just rolled her eyes.

"Have you ever tried beans on toast, Daniel?"

"No, but-"

"Then I don't think you get to criticize it."

"I can tell you right now I'm not ever eating that," Jack chimed in. "If I've learned one thing from being shot, it's to not waste whatever time I have left on things like beans on toast."

"If the two of you are so determined to dislike everything in the UK, I can just as easily go without you," Peggy said, head high as she walked ahead of the men, the three of them heading straight out the doors of the SSR without looking back. Daniel chuckled and Jack scoffed.

"Just try it, Carter. You couldn't get rid of us if you tried."

Peggy turned to them both with a raised eyebrow as they came to a stop in the elevator. After a beat, Jack sighed.

"Alright, maybe you could get rid of us if you tried. But then we'd just have two investigations running at once, which is a waste of time."

"Luckily for you, Jack, the two of you have somehow convinced me I'd rather work with you than not. Despite the inevitable cracks about my home country."

"Really feeling the love, Peggy," joked Daniel.

"So sweet you gave me a toothache," Jack chimed in. Peggy just rolled her eyes and shook her head as the elevator doors swung open and she headed out into the city without waiting for either of the boys. She knew they'd be right behind her, like they always were lately. A little team that had each other's backs. And despite one memeber of the team being Jack Thompson, Peggy really wouldn't have wished for anyone else.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmells

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sexyleon · 2 years ago

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PLS TELL ME HEADCANONS

I HAVE SO MANY THERE ARE SO MANY!!!!! I'm going to use this ask to talk about what I think happened in the immediate aftermath of Resi 4 tho!!

Okay, first, I don't think Ashley's rescue was covert at all! Leon doesn't just get to jetski to a designated landing spot and fly off into the sunset without the Spanish government getting involved and causing an international incident BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE TOO EASY. It's a very public affair, and while Leon is protected and never really reaches the limelight, Ashley has to publicly defend herself and her father in a media shit show (my zine piece in @relentlesszine is about Ashley coping with this!)

Anyways, after the initial confusion/chaos of American/Spanish officials struggling to find a solution on what to do, Leon and Ashley are rushed to a Spanish hospital once it has been confirmed they were infected by an unknown parasite. They're both in shock, but Leon takes it upon himself to endure the brunt of it: the interrogations, the questionnaires, the stressful explain what happened parts. He's still in fight-or-flight mode, and his only goal is to protect Ashley in any way he can. Eventually, they're to be separated and put into isolation chambers where they will have no contact with the outside world until they've been completely assessed by a team of doctors. Leon doesn't take this well. It's too familiar, it reminds him of when they took Sherry, and he'll be damned if he lets the same thing happen to Ashley. He adamantly refuses until they allow him into the same ward as Ashley (he's not violent about it because he's very aware of the situation they're both in, but he's not exactly nice about it either-- he's not going to let Ashley from his sight until she's in her father's arms). They wind up in separate rooms next to each other.

The ward is the hardest part for Leon. The doctors won't just let Leon stay by Ashley's side since he needs to be evaluated too. They make him lie down, force needles into his arms, take care of him-- which he thinks is a waste of time. They need to focus on Ashley.

He can't sleep. He wants to go home. He wants to take Ashley home. He wants to be anywhere but in this hellhole of a hospital. Every time he closes his eyes it's a different flashback. The villagers, innocent people turned monsters-- people he had to kill, people he lost count of killing. Luis and Mike, watching good people, his friends, die. Ada...God, he doesn't understand why he keeps going back to her. He doesn't understand why he trusted her. Dying is better than dealing with this. He wishes he could ask for morphine, but it'll just be another chance for someone or something to hurt Ashley.

This is how Ashley finds him, sneaking away from her room one night after being repetitively told they can't visit each other. He sits up from his cot when he realises she's there, all the worry in his face turning to relief. He wants nothing more than her safety and happiness.

“Ashley?”

“Sorry Leon, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

He gestures for her to come closer, offering space at the end of his cot for her to sit. They stay like that for a little while, the silence washing over them with the unspoken knowledge of what they'd been through. Leon does not mind the companionship, but can't help to feel guilty about everything that had happened. If he was better, maybe they'd already be home.

“I.... I want to thank you.”

Leon knows he should acknowledge it, he knows he should respond with grace, but the sinking feeling in his heart deepens. He doesn't deserve her thanks. He could've, he should've done better.

He settles on a “don’t mention it” with a wave of his hand, no big deal. He hopes it is enough, he doesn't want to think anymore. He can't look her in the eyes.

“Leon, I—"

“I said don’t.”

It comes out firmer than he means it, and when he looks up at Ashley to apologise it's too late. She’s already crying, ugly sobs filling the room as she gets up to leave.

“I’m sorry I’m such a burden! You should have left me to DIE!" are the only words he gets before she leaves.

Leon feels awful, and he's so so angry. It's not her fault for being kidnapped. It's her fault for being used to control her father. It's not her fault only one man with no info and little help was sent to save her. It's not her fault a sick man destroyed the lives of hundreds of people. None of it was her fault, but he knows nothing he can say right now will change her mind. So he lets her be and lies back down with his nightmares.

Later, after the doctors have done their rounds, he sneaks out to find her. She’s curled up on her cot, the vision of a young girl who has gone through hell. He knows the feeling, he remembers it well.

“Go away.”

“Ashley, I just want to talk,” his voice is soft, resigned.

She hesitates before stretching out a little and sitting up, patting the cot next to her with a tiny "okay."

Leon sits down, the silence once again enveloping them as he works up the courage to speak. The words feel thick in his throat. He never expected to be here again, having this conversation again. It's all a little too much, but he knows it's his responsibility.

“Well?!” Ashley snaps at him. He flinches and looks down at his lap. She's angry too, he figures. Angry, sad, and scared.

“I guess I deserved that,” he frowns, nodding to himself. She's about to say something else when he cuts her off, “Look. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you earlier." Good. An apology is a good start. "We went through a lot. It's a lot," he pauses, the full weight of what has happened on his shoulders, "But we’re here now...Together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way."

It's then that he looks up at her, all the earnestness in his eyes. “You’re not a burden. Without you, we wouldn’t have made it-- I wouldn't have made it." He reaches for her hand, pulling her up so that she can look into his eyes. "None of this is your fault. Krauser and Salazar and Saddler did this, not you," he pauses for a moment, all the emotion welling up in him..

"I am happy you're alive.”

---

LSDJLKSDJFLKSDJLFJS anyways this ended up turning a little fic-ish?????? SORRY lksfjlsjfdslf this is how i think it happened tho and it lives in my mind rent free lsdfjlskdfjlsdfj

Leon loves Ashley the way he loves Sherry and they are trauma bonded for LYFE. He's been through what she's going through and he wants nothing more than to take all the pain away and give her a normal life, the only things he wishes for himself

@thebisexualmandalorian

#resident evil #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #ashley graham #resi #i just really love them okay #plz no sexyleon

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everygame · 2 years ago

Text

Battle City (NES)

Developed/Published by: Namco Released: 9/9/1985 Completed: 20/11/2022 Completion: Beat all 35 unique levels. Version Played: Switch Online Trophies / Achievements: n/a

[Apologies for interrupting, but before we get to the article I’d like to mention that you can pre-order a copy of exp. 2600, my brand new zine, right now and get more of–and help support–writing like what you’re about to read.]

There are iconic NES games–Super Mario Bros. and that. And then there are iconic NES pirate cart games. Battle City is the latter.

I have a funny history with NES piracy, actually. As most people know, the NES wasn’t really a thing in the UK for most people (I certainly didn’t know anyone with one as a child) and by the time I reached the age where my family were spending more time in Malaysia, I was already an avowed PC gamer. So even though I have so many memories of department stores with rows of pirate carts and knock off Famicoms… I wasn’t interested at all, and instead filled my boots with copied floppies (seeking out the stalls with the best reproductions of manuals and that sort of thing.)

In some respects, I regret this–so much of the video game culture of South East Asia in the 90s seems to be lost forever (see tweets) and now all I really have is snatches of memories–usually a gaggle of kids crowded round a pirate cart version of Street Fighter II in a Jaya Jusco–but I also know that games like Battle City squandered the chance to get me lugging a Malaysian famiclone home with a couple of 150-in-1 carts.

Let’s remember here I’m not yet a teenager and I’ve just discovered the glory of things like Wolfenstein 3D’s vibrant ultraviolence and Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis’ cinematic narrative. And while in Malaysia I’m putting the exchange-rate equivalent of pennies into big fancy sit down/ride cabinets of the likes of Suzuka 8 Hours or Rad Mobile. So when an uncle digs out a faimclone and a pirate cart and you boot it up to find you can play 30 versions of the dustiest-ass tank game for babies you’d ever seen…

(And what was the deal with every single pirate cart massively over-inflating the number of games anyway? Was anyone fooled when they selected “Fancy Excitebike” in the list and just got Excitebike again??? I have one of those snatches of memory of standing in a wee store with my dad, him saying “you can get another game for the house!” and me, unable to tell which cart offered any value at all–after all, 80 of the games would probably be the same ones on the cart we already had–going home empty handed! Empty handed! When do kids ever do that???)

Anyway. When I think of pirate carts, I think of Battle City. Maybe it isn’t iconic to everyone, maybe it’s only iconic to me because it was on the cart I had for one summer at least… but it’s such a pirate cart game that it almost feels weird to play it in an “official” way.

And I suppose, this many years later, it’s kind of weird that I put a bunch of time into it?

I’ll say this. It’s not surprising that at the time I gave it short shrift. It’s got horrible sound (a constant buzzing of engines) and feels extremely simplistic and limiting as you awkwardly move your tank around sans diagonals. It was, after all, based on a game from 1980 with a bit of a graphical touch-up–contemporary with the timeless Pac-Man, sure, but this ain’t Pac-Man. I’ll admit the tank movement feels better than I remember it (smooth, and perfect speed) but the game sort of doesn’t really feel like anything.

Look at it this way. The game has you as a tank trying to defend one poorly walled-in base, always at the bottom center of the screen, from being shot by enemy tanks. There’s some terrain, but it’s mostly brick walls that can be shot through. Enemies spawn from the same three spawn points at the top of the level, and there’s some variation between them (some fast tanks, some tanks that take a bunch of hits). None of the enemies have any real AI–they don’t seek you, or really seek the base, either. Sometimes there are power-ups; you can improve your gun to destroy steel walls; there’s an occasional smart bomb or time-stop which are must-grabs. Shoot 20 tanks to get to the next level.

It’s, you know… fine. It’s an alright game design. But when you actually sit down and play it, the game very quickly devolves into getting your tank as far up the screen as you can manage where you are able to shoot clearly to both the left and right boundaries without being shot from a tank spawning above, and then just… firing constantly left or right based on which side tanks are traveling down from most urgently.

There are a few levels where this is not simple to do (a total bastard of a level mostly with tree coverage, making tanks near-impossible to see) and you can’t consider this tactic a total slam dunk because if a tank does slip past, they’ll often destroy your base before you can get to them, leading to an instant game over (no matter how many lives you have!) which can be infuriating. But it’s not like there’s better tactics; on a level by level basis you’ll do your best to shoot your enemies straight paths to your base, so you kind of just have to accept the variance.

In the cold light of 2022, Battle City is… a half-hour or so of near-mindless blasting that you wish had any sort of twist, or spark, or even particularly interesting level design, to make it a charming bit of classic arcade action worth score attacking.

In the early 90s it’s a dusty-ass tank game for babies that is indirectly responsible for the total lack of preservation of south-east Asian game culture history. Probably.

Will I ever play it again? Nope but I’ve got 1991’s Tank Force waiting to be played which is a baffling (and obscure) sequel that’s maybe brilliant. I mean who knows.

Final Thought: One of the most annoying things about Battle City of course is when you’re shot from the side by a tank that’s turned on a dime before you could notice, and I have to admit I’d be interested to play this exact game but with real, slow-ass tank turning. Would it be better? Would it actually be even more annoying? I’m kind of imagining these situations where you watch your tank turn, watching another tank turn, thinking “oh god, I hope I get this shot off” like you’re actually in the tank, feeling it slowly spin around… [“That’s why tanks have turrets though. So they can shoot in different directions more quickly”--Ed.] Shut up!

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi, either via a one-off donation (pay what you like) or by joining as a supporter at just $1 a month. Supporters receive an automatic 35% discount off physical zines, like exp. 2600, which you can order now.

#video games #games #gaming #battle city #nes #famicom #pirate cart #switch online #text #txt #review #namco #namcot

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pearlsephoni · 2 years ago

Text

Stitched Together

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: T

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Asanoya (Asahi/Nishinoya)

Characters: Asahi Azumane, Yu Nishinoya, Original dæmon characters

Word Count: 3,355

Summary: A late night misunderstanding becomes a chance at something sweet for tailor Asahi Azumane.

A/N: Originally written for @asanoyahqzine! Thank you so much to the mods for organizing this zine, it was a wonderful time! Further author’s notes can be read on AO3.

Asahi Azumane was just a normal tailor. He worked his normal job in his smaller-than-normal shop, and stayed up late to work towards his bigger-than-normal dream of one day designing his own clothing instead of mending others’.

He was just…a normal, completely unremarkable person, with a normal, completely unremarkable hare dæmon. He deserved to have a normal night after his normal day. And bursting out of his store with a cardboard tube as a weapon against a possible intruder was not what Asahi would consider a normal night.

“Holy shit— wait, wait!”

The panic pumping through Asahi made him process what he was seeing a little slower than usual: a young man with brown hair and a shock of blonde at the front was sprawled on the ground, brown eyes wide as he held a placating hand up. His other hand held some sort of scraper, with bits of paper stuck to the edge, paper that matched perfectly with the poster that had been pasted to the brick of Asahi’s shop. And next to the stranger was his dæmon, a red fox that was crouched and ready to attack with bared teeth. Asahi wasn’t sure how Miyu wasn’t quailing under the fox’s fierce eyes—his little soul was sitting straight and tall at his feet, the closest thing to threatening that a wild hare could be.

“What…?” Asahi began, eyes flickering from the stranger to his dæmon to the partially-scraped off poster on the wall. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m trying to help,” the stranger scoffed, carefully pushing himself back into a normal seated position. “Unless you want competing stores to advertise on your shop?”

“Competing—?” Asahi squinted at the poster, and immediately felt his neck warm with annoyance. “Quick Stitch Fix!” the poster cheerfully advertised, “Buy and tailor your clothes in one easy stop!” The local department store had just opened a tailoring service three weeks ago, and Asahi was already starting to feel the effect of their large-scale, big-budget services on his little shop.

“Yeah,” the stranger agreed, pulling Asahi’s attention back to him. “Figured you didn’t want any customers to immediately see alternatives when they come here.”

“Well…I don’t.” Asahi frowned at the poster for an extra beat before turning his frown onto the stranger. “Wait, who are you? Why are you here so late? And why were you trying to remove it?” Why do you care?

“One at a time, man,” the stranger laughed. “My name’s Yu Nishinoya, today was a late day at work, and I was trying to remove it because…well, I just told you. Competition, advertising, all that. I also just…don’t like those guys. They keep trying to push the little guys out of business.” His dæmon was still watching Asahi with her fur on end, until Nishinoya laid a gentle hand on her back. Only then did she deflate, her tail still twitching against the ground.

“Nishinoya,” Asahi echoed with a nod. “Well…thank you, Nishinoya-san. Though maybe next time you could just…let me know. Instead of giving me a late-night heart attack.”

Nishinoya’s eyes watched him for a beat, his lips finally stretching into a smile when Asahi let a grin curve over his face. “Just Nishinoya’s fine, or hell, just Noya. Sorry about the scare, uh…”

“Oh! Asahi. Azumane. Um…you can just. Call me Asahi.” Something about that smile frazzled something in Asahi’s brain and suddenly made him incapable of normal…non-garbled human speech. Thankfully Miyu didn’t seem to be too badly affected—his soul was carefully hopping towards the fox dæmon, her nose twitching as she held herself close to the ground in a perfect picture of docility. With each hop she took, the fox slowly relaxed, until she was willing to touch noses with Miyu and murmur a few words.

“Asahi-san,” Nishinoya hummed. “I like that!”

��Ah. Thank you.”

“Well, Asahi-san, it’s been a pleasure.” Nishinoya pushed himself to his feet, only to freeze when he noticed the part of the poster that still clung to the wall. “Oh, uh…I should finish that.”

For the first time that night, Asahi felt a soft laugh bubble out of him. “Here, let me help.”

——————————————————————————————————

That was supposed to be it. Asahi really thought that would be it. He thought that Nishinoya would just go down in his memory as an odd but kind stranger who just so happened to drift through his life.

Instead, a week after they had worked together to take down the flier, Asahi looked up at the jingle of the entrance’s bell, ready to greet the new customer, who just so happened to be—

“Nishinoya?”

“Hey, Asahi-san!” His smile was wide and bright, like he was genuinely thrilled to see the random tailor he’d helped. He made an interesting contrast to his dæmon—Asahi remembered Miyu saying her name was Haru—hovering behind his leg. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Managing to stay afloat despite the new competition.” A shadow passed over Nishinoya’s face, and Asahi tried offering a sheepish grin to reassure him. “How can I help you today?”

“Oh, I’ve got these pants that I have to wear for work, and they’ve always been a little long for me.” Nishinoya brandished the pants, which were made of a pretty evergreen velvet with gold stitching down the sides. “But I can’t wear the next size down, because then they’re too tight. I’ve never been to a tailor to get them fixed, but then I met you and figured why not, you know?”

Asahi couldn’t stop staring at the pants, only distantly hearing what Nishinoya was saying. “Aren’t those part of the uniform at the Inazuma hotel?” he blurted as soon as Nishinoya finished talking.

His customer blinked. “Uh…yeah, they are. You recognize them?”

“You work there?!”

“Yeah! What, you thought I stole these?”

“I would.” Asahi didn’t realize what he’d said until he saw Nishinoya’s brows shoot up his forehead. “I mean! Not that I actually would, I just—”

His words were suddenly drowned out by Nishinoya’s laughter, and he fell silent as he watched him crack up, struck dumb by the bright notes and the way his head tilted back with the force of his own laughter. “Sorry, wow, that was funny,” Nishinoya finally choked out, wiping at his eyes.

Asahi’s cheeks felt like they could catch on fire, even as they were pushed up by his wide smile. “Um…let’s get those fitted.”

Usually Asahi dreaded this part, awkwardly making conversation with his customer as he hovered around their body and pinned their clothes for his future reference. The only reason they stayed somewhat relaxed was because of Miyu’s far greater success at making friendly conversation with the customer’s dæmon.

The opposite happened with Nishinoya. Asahi couldn’t remember the last time conversation flowed so easily, filled with laughter and warm cheeks and glinting eyes. Meanwhile, Miyu seemed to need a little extra time to get Haru to relax enough to really engage with her.

If it had been Miyu who was so nervous in a new place, Asahi simply would’ve stopped going. The same clearly wasn’t true for Nishinoya. Asahi was prepared, if a little saddened, to never see the spunky bellboy again after he handed off his newly-tailored pants.

But instead, Nishinoya just…kept coming. At least twice a month, if not more, he would pop in with another set of pants that needed to be hemmed, or, occasionally, a jacket with sleeves that needed to be loosened around his surprising muscles. If he was the only customer in the store, he would always linger after Asahi finished the initial fitting, hovering by the front counter and peering at Asahi as he started sewing at his work table that was just visible from the front of the store. By the second month, Asahi just invited him behind the counter, and soon Miyu wasn’t his only work companion.

“I don’t get it,” Asahi laughed as he worked on the fourth pair of pants Nishinoya had brought in, “how are all of your pants too long for you?”

“I guess these clothing companies never thought someone my height would have legs like these.” Nishinoya reclined in his chair and crossed his legs with a dramatic, goofy preen. Asahi’s laughter got stuck in his throat at the sight of those thighs straining just a bit in those pants. Nishinoya may have been kidding around, but he really did have nice legs. The observation made Asahi’s stomach drop just a bit.

“Y-yeah. Guess so.” His eyes drifted up, and he was horrified to be met with a wide, knowing smile. “Um!” he nearly squeaked, “So! You don’t have that problem with your shirts?”

“Nah, just my jackets sometimes.”

“Ah. Well, if you ever need any of them to be altered—”

“—then I’ll be happy for the excuse to come see you again!”

Nishinoya’s smile somehow grew even wider as Asahi’s cheeks somehow grew even warmer. There was a soft laugh badly disguised as a huff from his work table, and he blindly reached out to give a small tug at Miyu’s ear. Satisfaction smoothed away his embarrassment when he heard a soft squeak in response. “...I’ll be happy, too,” he answered in a steady tone that couldn’t quite conceal how terribly bashful he felt.

Asahi liked to think he knew colors well. It was a basic part of his work as both a tailor and a designer. But in all his years of working with clothes, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a color as pretty as the dusting of pink across Nishinoya’s cheeks.

Man. He had it bad.

——————————————————————————————————

“He likes you.”

The needle sank into Asahi’s thumb. “Ow, dammit— what?”

Miyu looked awfully pleased with herself, her ears up as straight as she sat. “You seem awfully surprised.”

“That’s not— Miyu, what do you mean?”

“I mean he likes you! As more than friends, in case you wanted to explain that away.”

“Miyu.”

“Asahi!”

He very carefully tied off his stitches, stuck his needle into his pincushion, and rewound his thread before staring down his dæmon. “Who told you this?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

“His dæmon doesn’t even like me!”

“Only because you introduced us to them with a baseball bat!”

“It was an empty fabric roll!”

“Same difference!” Miyu hopped towards him from her usual perch on his work table, dodging the sprawl of his tools with practiced ease. “She’s also nervous because, and I quote, ‘he hasn’t felt this way about someone in a long time.’”

Hope was an intoxicating feeling, one Asahi didn’t usually like to indulge. But it was hard to resist when it came thanks to something his own soul said. “Why did she…trust you with all this?”

“It’s a little difficult to hold a grudge when your other half is feeling smitten. I would know.” Her ears flicked at the warmth rising to Asahi’s cheeks. “Asahi,” she crooned, coming close enough to nudge her soft nose against his hand. “I have a good feeling about him. And Haru. And I think I’ve convinced her to have a good feeling about you.”

“But what if we’re wrong?” Asahi murmured, fiddling at his fingers. “I…I do like him. But I’d rather just leave things as is instead of scaring him off and…not having him in our life at all.”

“You met him because he was scraping off your competition’s flier in order to support the business. And he’s come at least twice a month since, all because of some pants that are suddenly all too long for him.” She nudged at his wrist, reminding him to stop twisting at his fingers. “That doesn’t seem like the sort of person who’d be scared off by one little confession.”

“...Miyu?”

“Asahi?”

“If you’re wrong about this, you lose table privileges for the next month. At least.”

Miyu let out a delighted giggle, craning her neck up to bump his chin. “I like those chances.”

——————————————————————————————————

When Nishinoya next came to pick up his pants, Asahi felt like he might vibrate out of his skin from sheer nerves. His late-night conversation with Miyu seemed to echo around his brain, and he ended up falling into autopilot, treating Nishinoya with the same polite friendliness that he showed to other customers as he double-checked the fit of his pants.

He only snapped back to himself when he finished ringing Nishinoya up and handed him his freshly-folded pants. Nishinoya took them with a small furrow between his brows, and somehow that was enough to make Asahi remember himself and soften his smile from customer service-politeness to quiet friendliness. “Here you go.”

Just like that, the furrow disappeared, wiped away by a smile that almost looked relieved to Asahi as he received his payment. “Thanks as always, Asahi-san! These fit like a dream now.”

God, would his stomach ever stop flipping at the sight of that smile? “It’s my pleasure as always, Noya.”

With a last smile, Nishinoya began making his way to the door. Asahi turned back to the table, ready to start on his next order…and instead caught sight of Miyu tensed in a crouch on the counter, ears flicking this way and that. He followed her eye line, and found Haru looking just as agitated, fur standing on end and tail snapping back and forth. “Miyu?”

“It’s supposed to be today! You said you’d say something today!”

“Didja say something, Asahi-san?”

Asahi snapped up straight, heart rate soaring. It wasn’t a taboo to acknowledge conversations between a person and their dæmon, certainly not on the level of touching someone else’s dæmon. But it was a bit unusual, if only because it shook the perception of privacy that everyone was owed with their soul.

Nishinoya was a trusting person—he wore his heart on his sleeve, open and honest in a way that was refreshing. For him to interrupt a conversation between him and Miyu…well, Asahi was beginning to suspect their dæmons weren’t the only ones who had expected a certain conversation to be had today.

“Yeah, I did. Say something. Um.” Oh god…how did people do this? He didn’t know how to ask someone out, especially someone he liked so much.

Something soft covered his hand where it rested on the counter. He looked over to see Miyu resting her head on his hand, gazing up at him with wide, dark eyes. He knew that look—she’d given it to him their entire lives, whenever he nearly backed out of something because of nerves. It worked now, as it always did. He moved his hand to stroke her back, and as it moved, he felt himself calm down. When he looked up at Nishinoya again, his voice was steadier, despite the way his heart squeezed at the fond understanding in those warm, brown eyes.

“Um…I just wanted to say thank you, for all of your support. The way you removed the fliers from the storefront would’ve already been more than enough, but then you continued to trust me with your clothes, and I just…I really appreciate it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this nearly as well as you do.”

“Ah…thank you. I actually, uh…I was wondering if I could treat you to lunch or dinner sometime? To say thank you?”

Nishinoya was silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as it flickered over Asahi’s nervous features. “Yeah, I’d really like that,” he eventually answered. “Just wondering though…and whatever you say won’t change my answer…are you asking me on a date, Asahi-san?”

Oh, god. “Um! Well!” He felt Miyu’s soft nose nudge against his ankle. “Well…would you like it to be a date?”

“I asked first.”

God, he was stubborn. Asahi liked him so much. “Then…yeah. I’m asking you on a date. But…but it doesn’t have to be, if you don’t want it to be.” It was a battle to keep his voice from shaking, and his cheeks were only growing warmer, but they were also being pushed by a shy smile.

Nishinoya wasn’t helping his nerves, not when he was watching him with such quiet focus instead of his usual bright, welcoming energy. His dark eyes stayed steady on Asahi’s as he leaned on the counter and finally let a grin curve his lips. He was magnetic, making Asahi instinctively mirror Nishinoya’s posture on his side of the counter.

Then, and only then, did Nishinoya finally speak. “Yeah. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Oh.” Asahi hadn’t been expecting a rejection, necessarily, especially after everything he and Miyu had discussed. But the acceptance still made his stomach swoop with excitement, and he felt his smile broaden across his face. Something about that made Nishinoya bite his bottom lip, and the next thing Asahi knew, there were fingers curling into his collar and tugging him across the counter. “Wha—?”

His confusion died on his tongue when he felt soft lips pressing to his cheek. If he’d thought his cheeks were warm before, they were on fire now. He never really understood the phrase “starry-eyed,” but he could guess it was something like the way he felt watching Nishinoya pull away.

“I’m free Friday,” he was saying now, his bright voice cutting through Asahi’s daze. “If you wanted to get out of the store after closing, we could get dinner. There’s a really good curry place a few streets over, with a terrace that Haru likes.”

“You like it too, Yu.” Asahi felt something in the back of his neck twinge from how quickly he looked down, but it was secondary to the shock of hearing Haru speak out loud for the first time. The fox dæmon’s tail was curled around Nishinoya’s ankle, but her ears were perked up as she met Asahi’s gaze. “It’s all lit up with candles instead of the anbaric lamps. Very…atmospheric.” One of her ears twitched as she let out a soft huff that Asahi immediately recognized as a quiet laugh, and he felt his lips stretching into another smile, especially when Nishinoya muttered, “Real subtle, thanks.”

“I think we’re well past being subtle.”

“That sounds great,” Asahi said before Nishinoya could respond. Delight sparked through him when he saw the annoyance drain from Nishinoya’s face as his eyes jerked up to Asahi’s, glittering like the starriest sky with a smile to match.

“Oh! Wow. I mean, great! Great…wow.” Asahi had fallen for Nishinoya’s bright confidence and eager kindness, but he could just as easily fall for his shyness, too. The way he raked his fingers through his hair was all bashful fondness, and it made Asahi’s own fondness bubble through him like champagne. “I’ll come by around closing on Friday, then!”

“Oh, you can come 30 minutes later. I need time to ring up the cashier and clean up.”

“I can help. It’d be worth it for the extra time with you.”

“...Ah.” Well. There was that confidence, as magnetic and disarming as that smile. “Then…I’ll see you at closing.”

“Great! I’ll see you then, Asahi-san.”

The rest of the orders Asahi worked on seemed to pass in a blissful blur. And when he locked up the store that night, he was lost in daydreams of dark eyes, bright smiles, loud words, and soft lips…until he felt a gentle nip at his ankle. He yelped, just barely keeping his keys from leaping out of his hands before he frowned down at Miyu. “What was that for?”

“I told you so!”

He should’ve felt more annoyed at the clear smugness in Miyu’s quivering nose and perky ears, but all he could feel was excitement and grudging gratitude. “Yeah. You did.” He didn’t say anything else, but after he tucked away the keys, he knelt with open arms. Thank you.

Miyu didn’t hesitate to leap into them with a soft chirrup, and as he straightened up and began walking home, he could feel her nestle under his chin. You’re welcome. I’m proud of you.

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tsukkismoonlight · 2 years ago

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yup! here so you don't forget it til your grave!! bloomic xyx and the song Courtside by Tim Atlas !!!!

Tysm!!!! Luckily i did not forget,,,, but i did have work hella this week so this is a little late 😭 but I've got the song on rn and 👀👀 here's what im thinking

So, xyx, not big on love, as we've learned, and if we go based off his route, boy does he fall HARD

Man is literally fighting his inner demons trying to deny feelings,, and you/reader is just like, oblivious cause there's a LOT goin on. You've got work, the server zine, random events here and there, but you /always/ make time to indulge xyx in video calls

He tries to learn about you in subtle ways, which he's very good at, lawyer and all, and you're not used to telling someone so much about yourself, and you're certainly not used to them being so interested in what you've got to say

And for this we will say that bloombot accidentally let some personal information slip past her filters, and it turns out, you/reader and xyx live in the same area

But rather than outright tell you how to meet up with him, xyx makes a bet

Who can find the other first? You've seen each other's faces, you've heard each other's voices, you know what his job is, and he knows some about yours as well

And you/reader take the bet, the cost of losing is one fancy dinner, and a chance to meet Cat

So, in your free time, you get out of the house,,you try looking up nearby law firms, and try to look at their staff pages, you look at those billboards that advertise help for accidents and other unfortunate events

Meanwhile, xyx does what he does best, he hits the books. He's researching the information on your vague company, easily finding the one that you mentioned a while ago over a vc

He goes through all the departments, taking time to make sure that there isnt any nonsense with the higher ups. He wants to know if this company that makes you work the longest hours is actually a good company and not some shithouse place yk

So then, when he finds you, he has to stop and question if he really wants to see this through, but he has been so over his head about you, like he has had dreams about you, he will get random thoughts while he is working about you, wondering how your day is going, wondering if you're working just as hard to find you as he is

So he works up the courage to go into your work, dressed in casual clothes, coffee in hand

And he greets you with the usual cheeky greeting of "hello little troll" and you're like ?! Who is speaking from behind my tall as stack of papers that i need to do, wait i know that voice,, xyx what the fuck why are you at my work, is thst coffee ???

And he would do that little smile that he gets and be all like, "guess who owes me dinner"

And ofc at the dinner it's pretty nice, and you guys are having a grand time, its hard to be awkard when xyx is just so smooth and charming

And a little ways through the dinner you guys get some drinks to go along with it, and like no one gets drunk or anything, just like i dunno a little tispy/buzzed and you/reader is just babbling about work and your interests and xyx is sitting there like ohmygodimactuallyinlove

And all he can think about is wanting to wake up with you each morning, by his side

And yeah,,, thats what i would write with xyx+courtside jdjeke i didnt wanna go on and on cause i def could omg

#bloomic xyx #ask game #note from tracer109lilith

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pssbtch · 2 years ago

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Somnocidal (from a zine i made)

When we are asleep, we are the closest we ever come to being dead without actually dying. To the outside world, we could have slipped right out of life and into nothingness, all while our minds are the most alive they will ever be. Dancing, enveloping, unraveling visions called dreams keep our consciousness cocooned away from the lucidity of waking life. Sleep is a chance to briefly escape the constant churning of the brain and step into a realm of defenselessness. My greatest, most intense fantasies have often been about having someone to fall asleep and wake up next to. I think that specific fixation comes from a longing to be allowed to be unguarded, defenseless, and intimate with someone else. At some points in my life, I thought I could have gotten close to and captured that feeling, but every time I’ve been proven wrong. I would like to not have to perform a version of myself for another person. I would like the choice to become purely my unguarded self with someone. It would feel so freeing to be able to let myself exist, raw and unedited. I want to have the level of mutual trust that Abe and Isaac can experience in my drawings.

Intimately touching another person feels like a Herculean exercise in trust and human connection. That response to physical, especially sexual, touch fills me with a lot of shame. I’m not proud of it, but I do sometimes feel isolated by conversations about hook-ups, getting off, and fucking around. I don’t want to try to connect with someone, and then look at them just to see sex and desire and a face that screams, “When will you give me what I want?” I know that I’ll never be able to please most of the people who would show me a face like that. I’m lacking a physicality and sexual freedom that I feel like I’m supposed to have. When the fuck is my sexual awakening supposed to happen, again?

It’s hard to describe how I feel, and it’s even harder to sit and watch the faces of people when I try to describe it. I see the one-word conclusions being written behind their eyes. Some of them even say it out loud: “So you’re [ ],” “Oh, you’re [ ],” “You’re just [ ].” I’m trying to convey this complex, knotted-up ball of yarn in my stomach that is my sexual freakout to them, and they think it can be easily unraveled with a single word, or label, or diagnosis. Is it easier to understand my complications when you can simplify them? When you can simplify me? I don’t want my feelings compressed, or cropped, or sanded down to make them easier to process. Please don’t take my paragraphs and make them into phrases.

One day, I won’t have to think about the ways that I become simplified by another person’s gaze. I will be complex, I will be a walking human hoarder’s room, and I will be allowed to just be. One day, I hope I can trust someone enough to experience an intimacy like the one I’m exploring in my art. I want to look into someone’s eyes and see me, myself, clearly reflected there, as I am. I hope to look back and reflect my partner’s visage in my gaze, giving them the experience of being seen as well. I want what I will try to give. If the feeling of love is like a dreamstate, one that ensnares and cocoons us in numbing, warm overstimulation, then I don’t know if I want to wake up the next time I fall asleep in that fantasy’s bed. I hope I can rest, fully, when I feel my eyes beginning to close.

#chuck writing #personal BS wow #vague somno stuff

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riallasheng · 1 year ago

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My Grandpa was a fan of the Gerry Anderson productions, in particular he was a fan of the Theydon novels and TV21 comics. Whenever I would visit, he would lend me the novels to read and when I finished the novels, he leant me the comics. (which I read alongside sci-fi novels, esp Burroughs and Heinlein an the og TMNT, Transformers, GI Joe, The Phantom, etc)

I didn't actually know there were TV shows until I was in my teens XD ^^;;

When I was 16, I was stuck in the hospital for a long time, and they wouldn't let me bring in books or comics, smart phones were a LONG way off... but they did have a TV and VHS I could use. By sheer chance, some friends from Scotland sent me VHS tapes of the full supermarionation series and I watched them!

Overall, I enjoyed them (although not as much as the novels or comics, as I prefered the more teen / young adult aimed works to the family focused puppet shows. But they were a lot of fun, and as time went by, I got involved in the zine and tehn online fandoms; even had my own geocities site that I posted my fanworks on.

When the 04 film came out, I initially hated it... but a few years later I decided to try and watch it from a neutral and unbiased point of view and ended up coming to actually be a fan of it.

new Captain Scarlet is easily one f my all time favorite shows, and I even took part in the funding campaign for it! I adore every episode of it, I love the characters (with one or two exceptions) both 'identical to the og' and 'new characters in all but name', the writing and plotting are stellar, and I ADORE the hard sci-fi of the setting. It's something I rewatch on the regular and could talk about for HOURS. It was also the first time that I found something I enjoyed as much as the og novels and comics ^_^

When TaG came out, I didn't watch it at first. Not because I thought I'd dislike it, but simply becuase RL tends to be chaotic and busy for me, and 2015 was around the time my dad had a TIA and my duties as live-in nurse essentially went from 'part time' to 'full time'. I did eventually, very recently, get a chance to watch TaG and did two full watch throughs and, for me, it's meh. It's not BAD by any sense, just not something I adore. I can TOTALLY see why so many people like it, of course ^^

Granted, this does mean - given how TaG centric much of the Thunderfam is - I'm often just sitting on the sidelines doing my own thing... casue my primary 'love', and default 'canon' is still the novels and comics, with nCS being a close second, then the original shows, then the 04 film and TaG Which means I'm generally the odd one out, and I don't want to drag others down by not being as hyped as they want me to be about what they like (so often TaG) so I just sit quietly, nod and enjoy how much they all love it, and futz around in my itty bitty corner ^_^

Hi Thunderfam!

Hey, so I know this will have been done MANY times before but for us newbies it would be fun to know how everyone got here!

So… I was a super fan of TOS in the 90s, tried and failed to build a Blue Peter Tracy island, pored through every annual and comic I could get my hands on. Saw small section of 2004 film and could not, so when heard there was another reboot I avoided it because I didn’t trust them not to ruin my childhood love.

Got into Nevermoor late last year, discovered tumblr, overlapped with @womble1 on Nevermoor things and followed a rabbit hole into a womble TAG fanfic which made me think… oh, maybe I should give that newfangled series a little look.

Sat down with 8 year old and said “there’s this thing that’s a remake of something I used to like, let’s see if it’s any good”. We were both hooked the moment Thunderbird 2 appeared out of the clouds - we’ve just finished our second run through all 3 seasons - and I realised there is a LOT of Thunderfam content to catch up on on here too which has kept me pretty busy :) at some point I’m planning to revisit TOS.

How did other people end up here?

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lale-txt · 2 years ago

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hi hi! I hope I’m not coming off as rude, if u don’t mind me asking, is there going to a possibility that you’ll reopen the dilf requests after the currents ones? :D please don’t rush btw ! i was just wondering hehe

hello! not rude at all, thanks for asking!

look, ideally i would get all the requests i received done within the next two weeks and then reopen requests again so everyone gets a chance to send one in. I know 24h was a very small timeframe to send something in and i’m aware some missed the chance.

fact is, i am a slow writer and i work full time, i’m also working on two zines and will be going on a 2-3 week long hiatus in September, so realistically i’ll be working on those requests for the next three months.

my priority is always to not burn myself out over writing! i want it to be fun for me because i believe this way others will enjoy it to the fullest as well. so, let’s see how i’ll feel about reopening requests for this event again once i worked through the ones sitting in my inbox! don’t want to make any big promises, but i hope you’ll enjoy the things that get written anyway :)

#lale.ask #2K3D event

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

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Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info I Instagram I Zine

A/N: I just felt like it, this is pretty self-indulgent tbh. also please buy my stickers on etsy. Please. I worked so hard and I'm so scared they're going to flop.

* Yo babe, this guy is like your #1 supporter

* Like there’s two ways he meets you. The first is probably like that romantic “it’s fate” type of way, and the second is one of his brothers sets him up with you

* The first one is sort of romantic- you meet him when you’re still young at some book signing or a poetry reading or something

* And he sits next to you, and you start chatting a little about the author and their work

* “You sound like a writer” Jason says, and you blush a little

* “I guess I am” you’re just starting out though

* “What kinda stuff do you write?” He asks

* “The bad kind”

* He laughs at that

* And there’s this sort of romantic mood over the scene, like he just knows you’re going to be special to him

* But then the reading ends, and he’s waiting for it- to give you his number or to you see again but he never does

* You just get up and leave

* He see’s you again years later, at a charity ball Bruce is forcing him to go to “public appearance is important” and “optics need to be good” or something

* And you’re there, one hand on Dick’s arm, and the other around a flute of champagne

* “Oh, (Y/N)- this is my little brother Jason, Jason this is (Y/N)”

* The hand wrapped around Dick’s arm unfurls to hold his own, Jason can’t take his eyes off of yours

* “Nice to meet you”

* And there’s no familiar glint in your eyes, this isn’t some inside joke-

* You really don’t remember him

* “Nice to meet you too,” Jason says giving you a firm squeeze back

* Your hand is soft

* He can picture it, desperately clutching a pen, flying across a page, and scribbling all the ideas in your mind-

* It feels like a writers hand

* “(Y/N)’s an aspiring writer,” Dick says, and Jason flinches.

* So you are still writing

* “I’m not an aspiring writer, I am a writer”

* Jason doesn’t miss the slight bite in your words, despite your expressionless exterior

* “No I mean like a real writer- a published writer”

* “I am a published writer” you sigh, and Jason guesses you’re exasperated

* “Oh really where at?” Dick asks, and Jason almost wants to strangle his brother. Here’s the person of his dreams, and Dick had the stupid dumb luck to date them first- only to say all the wrong things.

* But before you can answer Dick’s eyes light up as they hover over the bar-

* Then out of nowhere, he grabs your champagne flute away from you

* “You’re running low huh?” The flute is mostly full, Jason notices. “I’ll get you another”

* And then he’s gone, leaving just you and Jason

* “I’m going to take a wild stab here, and say you’re not dating my brother”

* You shake your head with a small smile

* “This would be pretty sad if we were,” you say, picking up a champagne flute from a nearby server

* Jason mirrors the motion

* “Dick said he wanted to make an ex jealous, it’s a mutually beneficial situation”

* You motion to the bar, and sure enough Dick’s chatting up a familiar redhead Jason knows all too well

* “What do you get out of this?” The question is punctuated with a sip of champagne and your lips quirk into a small smile

* “I’ve never been to an event like this,” your eyes sweep the room- marble columns and men with shiny cuff links and tuxedos and women in polished gowns

* It’s like something out of a tv show

* “I thought it might be good for my writing” you shrug, your editor is always saying that you need more romantic elements in your work

* “Well you don’t need Dick for that,” Jason takes a sip of his champagne “I’m right here”

* You grin, and Jason has to pinch himself to snap out of the way you dazzle him

* “What a gentleman,” you say, still smiling, though it’s dimmed

* “Anything to support the arts”

* Elsewhere at the bar-

* “Do you think they’re hitting it off?” Barbara asks, and Dick grins

* “Of course they are, they’re a writer- Jason loves to read, it’s a match made in heaven”

* Barbara rolls her eyes, but she’ll admit, you guys look good together

* Things move fast after that, the way they always seem to when people are happy

* First dates at the pier

* Second dates watching bad movies and smuggling wine into a movie theatre

* Third dates where you do nothing but kiss

* Bookstore trips, late nights where you do nothing but dream

* Jason knows you’re getting close when you open up to him about your art

* “I’ve had this idea in my head for months now but it just won’t come out”

* And you’re taking such a huge chance talking about this- how many times have you been told to quit while you’re ahead, or ridiculed, treated as an annoyance, or even laughed at for opening up about your work.

* So the pure joy Jason shows when you speak to him about it makes your heart skip

* “Tell me about it, what kind of a story is it?”

* And this is such a vulnerable moment for both of you- but Jason makes it seem like it’s the most normal thing in the world, like this is how it should have been with everyone before

* And honestly it’s healing

* This dork will buy any magazine or journal you’re printed in and ask you to sign it

* If it’s web-only, he’ll print out your story on high-quality paper and ask you to sign that

* “You know you didn’t have to buy one, I have like 12 contributor copies,” you say hiding your smile as you indulge him by signing the cover

* “I just happened to see it-”

* He didn’t just ‘happen to see it’ he preordered this copy a month ago

* “Besides I like supporting your work”

* And no ones ever loved you like this, so you hide your smile behind your hand

* “Anything to support the art right?”

* “Exactly,” he says with a grin

* If you write a book and add his name to the dedications/acknowledgments he’ll straight-up start crying

* “Jason-“

* You’re a little concerned, you didn’t even write anything mushy just ‘For Jason, my number one supporter’

* When he finally shows his face from behind his hand he’s smiling so wide with the brightest blush on his face

* “This is my favorite book,” he says hugging the copy to his chest

* And you just smile

* He buys two books, one to make notes in and the other to keep in a shadow box

* Speaking of books-

* If you guys live together you have a lot

* Like seriously almost TOO many

* Have you guys seen that tik tok of the girl whose parents are professors and they have a whole house just COVERED in books- like even the bathroom

* Yeah

* That’s your house!!

* Well, probably apartment, but yeah

* You have a “guest bedroom”

* But really it’s a library with a bed in the middle

* Your living room has every wall covered in bookshelves and one small empty spot so he could mount the television

* It makes perfect sense- one bookshelf Is yours, one is for reference material, one is to keep all the stuff you get published, one bookshelf is for Jason, another is for shared classics, another is books you guys share with signed books in it, another is just a display case really

* And so on

* “Do you ever think we have too many books?” You ask Jason one night over cups of chamomile tea

* He looks up from the book in his lap, reading glasses slipping down

* “I think we’re the only people who have the correct amount of books”

* You grin

* “Yeah I think so too”

* He would totally show up to all your readings and book signings

* Your manager/agent might start to get worried

* “You don’t think he’s a stalker do you?”

* “Nah that’s just my boyfriend” you say with a smile, blowing a kiss in his direction

* Just- supportive Jason who loves that you were born to tell stories

#batman imagine #jason todd zine #Jason Todd imagine #jason todd heacanon #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #Jason Todd #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #dc comics imagine #superhero--imagines #dc comics

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residentanchor · 4 years ago

Text

...Like A Hug

A Platonic fic I wrote for a cancelled Zine. It was originally MUCH longer but there was a limit and I had to cut most of it. But it gets the point across. Summary: Shortly after filming the Christmas Carol episode, Virgil had a thought he could not get out of his head... Enjoy some nice platonic fluff! Word Count: 1801

Sometimes, the thoughts nagging at Thomas in the back of his mind were left up to Virgil to deal with. More often than not, he’d worry over something until the next thing came along and distracted him. However, there was always that chance of it being something that he just couldn’t shake.

“Okay, so you can give me imaginary sheet music, but when it comes to a sweater, imagination’s not good enough? Got it. Auugh, I’m not bitter!”

It had been a few days since the Christmas episode was filmed. While Virgil had been mostly distracted by the weird line Roman had written for him, that’s not what was bothering Thomas. After hearing it again as Thomas thought it over, Virgil knew that this one was going to stick around for a while.

Why could Roman give Thomas a binder but not a sweater? Virgil tugged at the sleeves of the holiday sweater he still wore. It was soft and comfortable, something that was obviously given a lot of attention and detail to suit him perfectly. So why not Thomas?

Virgil glanced up, facing the door that led to Roman’s part of the mind palace. He didn’t want to sink in unannounced; Roman had a tendency to let his thoughts run wild when he was trying to come up with new ideas. It wasn’t dangerous necessarily, but you never knew what to expect, and for Anxiety? That was the same thing.

Just knock, that’s all he had to do. It was either ask the question or be plagued with not knowing for who knows how long? Virgil took a moment to take in a deep breath and then just knocked, not thinking about what he was going to say.

The door opened and Roman stood on the other side, wearing his holiday sweater as well. “Well, Virgil, what a surprise!”

“Heya, Princey. I, um–”

“I see you’re wearing your sweater!” Roman smiled and stood proudly. “I put a lot of work into it! Well, and Patton too, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s great, thanks. Um, I just...” Virgil paused, almost expecting Roman to cut him off again. He glanced over at the other side and noticed him watching patiently. Despite that, Virgil could feel the silence building up until he couldn’t hold his words in anymore. “Why can’t you make Thomas a sweater?”

Roman tilted his head in his confusion. “Because I can’t give him something that’s imaginary. Did I not explain that already? What’s this about?”

“But the binder!”

Roman jumped as Virgil spoke up, surprised. “Well, yes. I suppose I can see why that was a bit confusing.” Roman rubbed the back of his head and fixed his hair quickly, a nervous tick that he got from Thomas himself. “We filmed a few days ago. Has that been bothering you this whole time?”

“Kinda?” Virgil crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed at the softness of the sleeves. “It’s kind of stuck at the back of Thomas’ mind and, well, that’s kind of my area, so…”

“Well, worry not! The answer is simple.” Virgil looked up eagerly. “I can not give Thomas something he does not know exists. I gave you all binders first, correct?” Virgil nodded, thinking back to when they filmed. “Thomas didn’t know the words so he couldn’t see the lyrics, but he saw the binders, so he knew what they looked like.”

“So you can’t give him something he hasn’t already seen.” Virgil blinked as the missing puzzle piece began to fit in his head. Just like how Thomas didn’t know about some of his other sides, but didn’t really care to know about them either. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Is that all, then?”

“I suppose.” Virgil scowl turned into a frown. “But that’s not fair.”

Roman sighed and leaned against his doorway. “Well, what do you want me to do about that? It’s not like I have spare sweaters sitting around that Thomas knows about to give him.”

At the same time, Virgil and Roman’s eyes met with a knowing look. “You thinking what I’m thinking, Sir Stink?”

“We’re gonna need help with this one.”

--- Thomas knew he had to be working, that the break he had given himself has long since ended. However, his eyes were still locked onto the television while his laptop sat next to him on the couch, untouched.

“Thomas!”

“Gee minetti!” Thomas jumped and fell back on his couch, looking up at the figure that had suddenly appeared. “Logan! Warn a dude next time, will ya?”

Logan stared down at Thomas’ untouched laptop with a scowl. “You said it would be a short ten-minute break, Thomas. That was almost an hour ago and you still haven’t gotten back to work.”

Sitting up, Thomas ran a hand through his bangs before reaching to grab his laptop. “Yes, okay! Deadlines and work, I get it. You can go, I got the message.” Thomas grabbed the remote and shut off the television before tossing it behind him and focusing on his screen. He glanced through his browser to see where he left off before looking up once more. “You need something else there, buddy?”

Logan nodded and touched the side of his glasses to adjust them. “While I am glad to see you back to work, I’m afraid that’s not why I initially came here.”

Thomas looked puzzled as he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, so…. Why are you here?”

“To be a distraction.”

Thomas hunched over, a bit confused. Logan raised his hand and pointed just over Thomas’ shoulder. Turning, Thomas yelped as he came face to face with another side. “HI THOMAS!”

“Patton!” Thomas grabbed his laptop to make sure it didn’t fall before placing a hand over his racing heart. “What is going on here?”

“Well, it’s a long story!” Patton took a deep breath before counting on his fingers. “See, it started with the Christmas episode we filmed which was so much fun! But we couldn’t make you a sweater which I was super sad about but Roman said it just wasn’t possible so we worked on all the other sweaters first! Then when you got sad, it made me sad! But when Roman made the binder, you were confused because we had just told you we couldn’t make imaginary things so–”

“Woah, Patton! Slow down! Take a moment to breathe, buddy.” Patton let out a loud gasp and sigh. “There we go.”

Wiping the imaginary sweat from his brow, Patton smiled and let out a chuckle. “Sorry, I got a little excited!”

Thomas moved his laptop off of his lap and turned so he could see both sides without twisting around. “Okay, what is going on with you two?”

“I think what Patton is trying to say is that I am a genius!” Roman sank in with his arms up in his signature pose, smiling proudly. “Well, I suppose Virgil had the idea, but I did the hard parts!”

“Falsehood, you asked us to assist you in this endeavor.” Logan crossed his arms. “You said it would not have been possible otherwise.”

“Fine!” Roman threw up his hands, frustrated at having his thunder taken from him. “It was a team effort! That work for you, teach?”

“I’ll say!” Patton chimed in. “Teamwork makes the dream work!”

Thomas covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes. “Someone please just tell me what’s going on!”

“I can’t make you an imaginary sweater, Thomas.” Roman motioned to himself as he spoke.

“Yes, Roman, we’ve been over this. No sweaters, binders only.”

“I believe Roman is trying to state that he can’t create anything that doesn’t already exist in your imagination for you.” Logan turned to Roman, a smug smile on his face. “However, there is one thing we can do for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Thomas leaned back into his couch. “What’s that?”

Suddenly, Virgil appeared over on the side. Thomas didn’t jump this time, watching his anxiety personified fidget with something in his arms. Something black and soft. “Uh, here.” Virgil walked a few steps forward and flung out his arms, offering the bundle to Thomas. “Sorry, it’s not cool or original or anything.”

Slowly, Thomas reached out and took the object in his hands, holding it up so he could make out what it was. As it unfolded, Thomas let out a soft gasp as he identified Virgil’s old black hoodie in his hands. The fuzz on the inside was softer than he had imagined it to be and it was a bit heavy, almost in a comforting way. “I don’t understand. How…?”

Thomas looked up at Virgil, pulling the sweater into his lap. Virgil just gave an exaggerated shrug and looked away. “Princey said he couldn’t give you something you hadn’t already seen and I don’t need it anymore…” He trailed off, shoving his hands into the pockets of his newer purple hoodie.

“Roman explained it to us.” Patton took a step forward and smiled. “He can’t make things permanent and the bigger it is, the harder it is to make.”

“So,” Logan chimed in, “we worked together to make this appear for you. It won’t last forever, but together it should hold for a few hours. We can manifest it for you at any time you wish.”

“While I did do most of the work...” Roman nodded his head at Virgil. “It was Dark And Dreary’s idea entirely. He helped make sure it was just right. He kept nagging me that it was too heavy or not soft enough!”

“It’s our first gift to Thomas! I wanted to make sure you made it right!”

Not waiting a moment longer, Thomas flipped the hoodie around and thrust his arms through the holes and pulled it close. He pulled them down just slightly over his palms before rubbing his arms. “It’s like a blanket. This is so comfortable. I love it!”

“You do?” Virgil asked softly, watching from the side eagerly. “I mean, cool. Yeah, whatever.”

“Thanks, guys.” Thomas could feel his cheeks cramping from the amount of smiling he was going. “This is the best gift ever.”

“It’s like a hug from all of us that you get to wear!” Patton clapped excitedly.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” Logan cut in, breaking the precious moment they were having. “You have emails to go through and a draft to approve.”

“Right, back to it I go!” Thomas pulled his laptop into his lap and wiggled in his seat to get comfortable before letting out a sigh of contentment. “Logan, can you help me sort these emails? Roman, I’m gonna need you later for the script draft. These episodes are getting long and I want this to be perfect for our fans!”

---

@helloisthisusernametaken @entitydark @lightningbug04 @moonstone-fox @another-sandersidesblog @thesynysterunknown @roo-kangas @singingjo @unikornavenger @rememberfateau-nowoffical @sanders-sides-trasshcan-blog @sleepyssnail @jemthebookworm @spectralheartt @fandomsofrandom @johnlaurensadmirer-johnsenpaiowo @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @izzyfandoms @zaidiashipper @enbyamy @romanmustberomantic @daylnvale @that-one-sunfish-with-a-wig-on @squiddney69 @decayingfoxx @watchoutforthefanfics @pigeonsinatree @lynnthefander @k1ngtok1 @wewuzraw @lovelyisthesunrise @sparkedawg @pukingdraws @pixelatedrose @lovelyisthedawn

#Sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #my writing #platonic lamp #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts thomas #ficlet

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gryffindorcls · 4 years ago

Text

The Surprise Guest

Hello, lovely readers!

A few months ago I was asked to write a piece for the @mlpandemicreliefzine. It was such a fun project to be a part of, and now that it's been out for a while, I am happy to share with you the fluffy Marichat one-shot I wrote for the zine.

Happy reading!

---

SUMMARY: One Friday night, Chat Noir accidentally barges in on a "girl's night" sleepover happening in Marinette's room. After being encouraged to stay, Chat joins the group in a game of truth or dare during which Marinette reveals the name of the boy she loves.

LENGTH: 2972 words

AO3 FANFICTION

---

RAP RAP RAP

Marinette’s heart stopped.

“Is someone knocking on a window?” Alya pushed herself off the ground and padded across the room.

“N-no! I...uhh...it’s probably just the wind!” Marinette sprang out of her seat and tried to pull Alya back to the circle of girls sitting in the middle of the floor. “Don’t worry about it! Mario Kart is waiting for us!”

RAP RAP RAP

“There it is again!” Alya stood on her tiptoes and peered out the window next to Marinette’s desk. “That’s funny I could have sworn-”

The hatch above the lofted bed swung open with a bang. All heads turned towards the sound as a mop of blond hair poked through the opening.

“Princess, are you in here? Are you okay? I was knocking, and I didn’t see...oops.” Chat Noir’s eyes scanned the room. “Hello, ladies.”

“Oh, look!” Alya locked eyes with Marinette and gestured towards the hatch. “The wind has a face.”

Marinette groaned and buried her face in her hands. “This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, but it is, and I can’t wait to hear you explain your way out of this one.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Really? Because to me, it looks like one of Paris’s heroes is asking to come in, and judging by his cute little nickname for you, I’m guessing that this isn’t the first time he’s paid you a visit. How am I doing so far, Princess Marinette?”

“Unfortunately, you’re doing pretty well.”

Chat ducked behind the lip of the opening. “Did I come at a bad time?”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose. “I told you that I was busy today.”

“I forgot.”

“Obviously.”

“If he’s here, does that mean there’s an Akuma?” Rose smashed her hands against her cheeks. “Is it after one of us?”

Chat shook his head. “No Akuma tonight. Everyone is safe.”

“If there’s no Akuma, then why are you here?” Alix narrowed her eyes. “Are you two dating or something?”

“No!” Marinette raised her hands in front of her. “It’s nothing like that. He just visits sometimes.”

“Yup!” Chat chimed in, “Every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday night!”

“Not helping!” Marinette hissed at the boy through gritted teeth.

He sunk further behind the ledge. “Sorry.”

“You have scheduled visits!” Alya chuckled and placed a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Girl, I expect details.”

Chat cleared his throat. “Should I just leave the snacks and go?”

“Aha!” Alix exclaimed, pointing towards the hatch. “He brought snacks. They’re totally dating.”

“We’re not dating!” Marinette stamped her foot on the ground. “We’re just friends. I swear!”

“I don’t know. My brother always brings his girlfriend food, and he’s always talking about how in love with her he is.”

“Chat is my friend.”

Alya crossed her arms. “And tell us, how did you manage to become friends with him?”

Marinette looked at Chat, and after finding the silent look of approval in his eyes, she swallowed and took a steadying breath. “One night I was really upset, so I decided to sit out on the balcony. I may have started crying, and that’s when Chat found me. He told me he was also feeling down, so we talked for a few hours. He checked up on me the next day, and that’s when we realized that we enjoyed hanging out with each other.”

“Did you invite him to hang out with us tonight?” Mylene asked, cocking her head to the side.

Marinette sighed. “No, I did not.”

“You know, I should just go.” Chat tossed a canvas bag overflowing with snacks onto Marinette’s bed. “I’ll see you on Sunday, Princess.”

The unspoken sadness behind his words sent a pang through Marinette’s heart. “No, stay. It’s fine. Besides, I think Alya would kill me if I told you to go home before she had the chance to grill you at some point tonight.”

“You know it.” Alya chuckled and shot a finger gun in Chat’s direction.

“Wait.” He peeked the rest of his head over the ledge. “Really? I can come in?”

“Yup, and we were just about to play Mario Kart.” Marinette watched as Chat hopped onto her bed and scrambled down the ladder. “Did you want to play with us?”

“Do I?” He vibrated with excitement as she handed him a controller. “Is this what normally happens at sleepovers?”

“Have you never been to one?”

“No. I’ve only ever seen them on television and in movies, but those people are always doing each other’s hair and playing Truth or Dare.”

Alix’s eyes lit up. “Ooo, yes! We should play Truth or Dare.”

“No!” Marinette switched on her computer and loaded the game. “We are not playing Truth or Dare.”

“Ugh, lame!”

“We are playing Mario Kart, and then we are watching a movie.”

“I don’t know, Marinette. Playing Truth or Dare with a superhero sounds kind of fun.” Alya shot her a grin.

Marinette glared at her. “Video Games. Movie. Bed. That’s it.”

“You know,” Chat interjected, “I’ve never played Truth or Dare either.”

“Of course you haven’t.”

“It could be fun.”

“But you know what would be even more fun?” Marinette leaned in and flicked Chat’s bell. “Kicking your butt at Mario Kart...again.”

He chuckled. “That’s some big talk coming from someone who’s about to get crushed.”

“So says the boy who loses every time he’s played against me.”

“Oh, it’s on, Princess.”

“Jeez, if you two lovebirds are done flirting, some of us are ready to actually start playing,” Alix huffed, flopping onto the floor.

“For the last time, we are not dating.” Marinette crossed her arms and looked at Chat. “Right?”

“Yeah, we’re not.” She could have sworn that she saw his eyes dim when he spoke his confirmation, but surely it was just a trick of the light.

“See!” She said triumphantly. “We’re just friends.”

“Could have fooled me!” Alix held her stomach and laughed. “I’m just kidding. Anyway, are we playing or not?”

“Yes.” Marinette pressed start on her controller. “We are.”

As the first race began, she settled herself next to Chat Noir, accidentally brushing her knee against his. Her heart sank when she felt his body stiffen under her touch. Usually, Chat had no problem getting close to her. More often than not, they found themselves wrapped around each other under piles of blankets.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d done something wrong. Maybe he was upset that she’d said no Truth or Dare. Maybe she was too harsh. Maybe she should have said yes. After all, it was his first sleepover, and playing Truth or Dare wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

Despite the internal debate that raged through her mind throughout the gaming session, Marinette came first in almost every race. After her eleventh win, she leaned over and rested her head on Chat’s shoulder.

“Better luck next time, kitty.” She looked up only to see him quickly turn his head away.

He must really be upset with her.

Alix slammed her controller onto the ground. “Ugh, can we do something else now? I’m getting bored.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you’re not just getting tired of losing?”

“Actually, I also wouldn’t mind doing something else.” Rose set down her controller and smiled. “Marinette, didn’t you say that we were going to watch a movie tonight?”

“A movie would be cool,” Juleka mumbled under her breath.

Marinette looked at Chat Noir. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I thought that maybe we could play Truth or Dare...as long as we’re careful, that is! We’d have to promise to not ask Chat anything that could reveal his identity.”

Alix threw a celebratory fist into the air. “Yes!”

“Are you sure, girl?” Alya furrowed her brows. “You seemed pretty against it before.”

She nodded. “I’m sure. Besides, I think our surprise guest really wants to play. What kind of hostess would I be if I denied him the full sleepover experience?”

He met her gaze. His mouth rounded into a small “o” as a dusting of pink peeked out from underneath his mask.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked tentatively.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I would love to play!”

The rest of the group excitedly agreed and reformed a circle in the middle of the floor. The first few rounds filled the room with laughter as Mylene did the worm and Alya showed off her best Nino impression.

Once the giggles died down after watching Alix's reaction to putting ice cubes down her shirt, Alya adjusted her glasses and smirked. “Alright, it’s your turn, Marinette. Truth or dare?”

The last thing Marinette needed was for someone to dare her to kiss Chat Noir. “Truth.”

Alix rubbed her hands together. “First truth of the night. Let’s make it a good one.”

A wave of regret washed over her. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes! Who do you have a crush on right now?”

“I guess I should have seen that one coming.”

A pang shot through Marinette’s chest. She lowered her head and swallowed the heartbreak that threatened to resurface.

It had only been three months since she’d made the choice to move on from Adrien, and the wound still felt fresh. She’d done her best to bury the feelings she had for him, but her heart always circled back to the selfless boy who shines brighter than the sun.

However, she learned that as long as she didn’t actively think about Adrien, the hole inside her heart wasn’t as noticeable. Chat’s visits had really helped take her mind off of everything, but now it looked like it was time to face her feelings head-on.

“Oh, I know!” Chat blurted out, “It’s Luka!”

“No, it’s not.” Juleka’s hands covered her mouth while she spoke. “Marinette turned him down when he asked her out.”

“Wait, really?” He turned to Marinette. “Isn’t he the boy you’re in love with?”

Alya shook her head. “No, they had a connection, but I think we all know who really captured her heart.”

“Who?”

“You mean you really don’t know? She never told you?”

Hot tears welled in the corners of Marinette’s eyes. “I’m trying to move on.”

“Do you still love him?” Rose asked quietly, "Because it's okay if you do. Feelings like that don't just disappear overnight." “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter now. He’s with someone else. I lost my chance.” The words tasted bitter on her lips.

“No, you didn’t.” Juleka shook her head. “Don’t tell anyone, but I saw Luka kissing Kagami last weekend.”

A collective gasp filled the room as Marinette’s head shot up. “Are you serious?”

“Mmhmm, he doesn’t know that I know, but she comes over a lot.”

Alya nudged Marinette’s arm. “I think you just got your second chance.”

“But he and Kagami were so close!” Marinette grabbed her pigtails. “I could have sworn that they were dating.”

“You know, I don’t remember him ever saying that they were dating.”

“I guess I just assumed. I thought I saw them kiss.”

“I don’t think they did. I know he didn’t tell Nino that he kissed her, and those two pretty much know everything about each other.”

Chat held up his hands. “I’m sorry, who are we talking about right now?”

“It’s a boy from our class. You might know him. He was in that fragrance ad that seems to be on every billboard in the city.” Alya pointed to the class picture hanging on Marinette’s wall. “His name is Adrien.”

“Hold on.” The intensity in his eyes startled Marinette. “You have a crush on Adrien Agreste?”

“Um, yeah?” She shrugged. “I thought he was dating Kagami, so I tried to make my feelings go away. It didn’t really work.”

“But why?” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “Why him?”

Marinette thought back to her encounter with Adrien in the rain–the day love became more than just a word in the dictionary. “I accused him of something when we first met, but instead of getting angry and brushing me off, he reached out to me and asked to be friends. Is he one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in my entire life? Yes, without a doubt. But it was his kindness and selflessness that made me fall for him.”

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“With all my heart.”

“Is that why you were crying that night on the balcony?”

“Yes, but you made me feel a lot better. Thank you for that.”

Chat pushed himself off the ground and began pacing around the room. “I...he made you cry! You’re so sweet and kind, and he hurt you. How are you not mad at him?”

She reached up and grabbed Chat’s hand as he passed in front of her. “It’s not his fault! I never had the courage to tell him, so he doesn’t know. He’s a wonderful person.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Chat…”

“He broke your heart, Marinette.”

She shook her head. “No, if we’re being honest, I kind of broke my own heart. I never told him how I felt.”

He took a deep breath. “You should tell him.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“What if I’m not the one for him? He deserves to be happy!”

“I have a hunch that things will work out pretty well if you tell him.”

“Look, it’s not that I haven’t tried before.” Marinette buried her face in her hands. “But all of those attempts ended in disaster. How would this time be any different?”

“Easy.” Alix pointed to the cell phone on Marinette’s desk. “I dare you to text him.”

Marinette crossed her arms. “Nice try, but it’s not my turn right now. It’s Chat’s.”

“Fine. Truth or dare, Chat Noir?”

He plopped down on the ground. “Dare.”

“Excellent.” Alix grabbed the phone and handed it to Chat. “I dare you to help Marinette send a text to Adrien.”

“No!” Marinette snatched her phone out of his hands and held it against her chest. “Why?”

“Because it’ll be hilarious.”

"But it's my phone!"

"And it's his dare."

Marinette grabbed Alya’s arm. “Help.”

“No can do, girl.” She shook her head. “Alix is right. He got dared.”

With a sigh, Marinette reluctantly handed her phone over to Chat. “Please don’t do anything too embarrassing.”

“Trust me, Princess. I’ll make sure you get that date.” He took the phone and got to work.

“You may have to spell it out for him. Adrien’s a great guy, but he’s a little dense in the love department sometimes.” Alix’s laugh rang through the room.

Chat glared at her. “Rude.”

“If you knew him, you’d agree.”

“Unfortunately, I have a feeling that you’re right. Rude, but right.”

Marinette didn’t know if she should scream or run away. “Please don’t tell him that I like him in a text. That should be something I tell him to his face.”

Chat ran his fingers through his hair. “I know. All I did was write out a message asking him to meet up with you in the park tomorrow.”

“Did you already send it?”

“Yup.”

“I...but...what if he’s not free?”

“Oh, he’s free.”

“How do you know?”

“Uhhhh.” Chat scratched the back of his head. “I read somewhere that his father is out of town for the next week. I guess I just assumed that Adrien had nothing on his schedule.”

Marinette did her best not to hyperventilate. “Okay, yeah...this is great. Goog...I mean doog...I mean...oh, no, I’m stuttering again! It’s been weeks since I’ve done that. I’m going to make a complete fool out of myself tomorrow!”

“No, you’re not.” Chat rested a hand on her shoulder.

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re amazing, Marinette, and he’d be crazy to not like you back.”

His smile melted away her fears and calmed the restless beating of her heart. It was amazing how safe he always made her feel, both in and out of the mask. Marinette knew she was lucky to have him as her partner and her friend.

“I know everyone didn’t get a turn to go, but I really don’t think we can top that round.” Alya walked over to Marinette’s computer. “How about we watch that movie now?”

“Works for me!” Marinette leaned against Chat. “Want to sit next to each other?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

While Marinette set up the movie, her guests made a cozy nest of blankets and pillows on the floor.

When she was finished, she took a seat next to Chat. She soon found herself wrapped in his arms with her face against his chest.

Although sitting like this had become a regular occurrence between them, tonight felt different. Instead of the loose hold she was accustomed to, Chat held her as if she’d slip away if he let go. To her surprise, she really enjoyed the change.

As the movie droned on, the steady beating of Chat’s heart relaxed every fiber of her being. Reflexively, she reached her arms around him, snuggled closer to his side, and reveled in his warmth.

All too soon, Marinette gave into the heaviness of her eyelids. Still vaguely aware of the world around her, the whispers of an oncoming dream beckoned her further into the depths of her subconscious.

She felt a gentle pressure against the crown of her head before a hazy voice etched its words onto her heart. “You make me happy every single day. You always have, and now it’s my turn to make you happy. You’re the perfect girl for me.”

And for the first time in months, Marinette was at peace.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow, Princess.”

That night, she had the sweetest of dreams, and the next morning, she woke up with Adrien’s response in her notifications.

#miraculous ladybug #my fic #marichat #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #one shot #ml pandemic relief zine #I just want them to be happy #ml fanfiction

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ducklettwrites · 3 years ago

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DST Zine Tryout Fic: “Caught in the Rain”

Now Available on Ao3

Fandom: Don’t Starve (Together) Characters: Wormwood, WX-78 Pairing: Wormwood & WX-78 (meant as platonic but can be read as romantic I guess) Description: Wormwood is a good friend. Author’s Notes: My tryout piece for the next Constantly Obsessed Don’t Starve Zine. I’ve been wanting to write something sweet between Wormwood and WX-78 for a while. My headcanon going into this is that System Overload must be pretty overwhelming, and can lead to some not so great effects if the sanity gets too low because of it. Minor trigger warning: there is depiction of a panic attack and minor self harm. Don’t worry, it all turns out okay.

Springtime was the closest Wormwood got to being on his lonesome again. He sighed. The ceaseless rain pelting against his tent. The small makeshift camp was illuminated slightly under the glow of a lantern. He wasn't sure if being in his tent meant the darkness monster couldn't get him, but he wasn't willing to take that chance either. At least this isolation was voluntary he supposed.

He knew how he got during the Spring. His bloom cycle didn't make him the best company. The buzz bugs became attracted to him and weren't exactly friendly to the friends he had back at the camp. A minor, though painful, nuisance to most, including Wormwood. They were a bit more fatal to the newest friend he had made this past Winter season; and he wasn't keen on being the reason for any of his friend's death. So he settled a deal with them to tend the farm further away from camp. They'd come every few days to pick up the fruits of his plant friends and bring him supplies. He'd be able to come back around Summer, when he'd be needed to keep the plants friends at camp from succumbing to the heat. He hoped book friend would be able to take care of them until then.

A crack of lightning shook the tent and Wormwood blinked into the starless sky. Rain batted against the budding flower at the tip of his stalk. He wouldn't be gone from his friends forever, just for a while. Still, it didn't mean he didn't miss them, quite a bit actually. For this reason, when he started to hear the somewhat familiar sound of metal clanking against metal, he thought it was just in his mind. When his head began to hurt, he could have a whole lot of things just happening in his mind. But his head didn't hurt; he felt fine. So, why did he still hear it?

He stepped from the tent, grasping the lantern tightly with his leaf hands. "Hello? Who there?" He called into the dark.

The sound of rain and the continued clanking of metal was his only response.

Wormwood moved closer to the sound. From between the shadows of the rain and dark was a glow. A halo of light accompanied by two glowing eyes peered directly at him. He blinked, confused. "Robot...friend?" He questioned why, of all his friends, would the robot come to him, this late, and in the middle of a storm.

But he was correct in his recognition. WX-78 caught Wormwood's gaze and returned the look with the same wide blank eyes they usually had. Except, something about them seemed... off. They glowed from head to toe and extra special light came from their eyes. There was a noticeable hum to them now that Wormwood stood closer to them. Though their face betrayed no emotion, every fiber of his being screamed that something was wrong with his friend.

At first he moved to hug them, embrace them and make it all better. But then he remembered that robot friend had explicitly told him that they hated hugs. He stopped before touching their casing. There was a sensation of electric energy pulsing off of them. A moment of silence passed between them, where he was frozen, too scared to make a move.

Then a shudder of electric energy worked its way up the robot. Wormwood jumped back with a start. A pained screech indicated that it was anything but painless. WX-78 was shaking now, gripping their head and shuttering their eyes.

"Let's get friend back to dry." Wormwood was careful not to touch the robot, instead using his arm to try and lead them back toward his camp.

They reluctantly followed. The trek back wasn't long, just wet. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and WX flinched at the noise.

"Not far now..." Wormwood said sympathetically "almost there, friend."

WX nodded with a creak.

The camp was in sight. Wormwood led the trembling robot to his tent. They eased their way down, sitting in front of the entrance. He set the lantern in front of them outside and moved to rummage through a nearby chest. For once he was happy that choppy friend and his friend killer had stopped by. He pulled the hunks of dead trees from the chest and tossed them onto the firepit. The resulting blaze made Wormwood jump a little. He returned to the chest to pull out an orange vest before walking back to the tent.

With the fire going, WX was settling at the entrance of the tent. They stretched out, sparks flying from their joints where water had seeped in. Wormwood settled next to them and handed over the vest. He watched as the robot donned the outfit silently. By far it was their silence which worried Wormwood the most. He had known WX long enough to know that they should’ve been complaining by now. They had always been outspoken.

"What happened to robot friend?" He wasn't used to having to make the first words in their conversations.

They hadn't stopped shaking completely. Their fists clenched and unclenched as they had to force the words to come out. It looked like quite the struggle. "LIGHT...ING." was all they could manage.

Wormwood nodded, trying to force down his own feeling of unease for the sake of a friend. He did remember that there was something about lightning that robot friend talked about; and he assumed that must've been what they were trying to tell him now. "Do you hurt?"

Another struggle, this time they could barely manage more than a few sputters and creaks. Their expression darkened. Metal fingers clawed at the side of their temples and Wormwood could now see noticeable scratches begin to form in their casing.

It was a quick reaction. He reached out and grabbed their hands away from their head. A jolt of electricity stung him but he maintained his hold. He could feel their shaking continue beneath his grasp. He looked them in the eyes and they returned the gaze. "Does head hurt?" He tried to sound firm, hoping they didn't notice how scared for them he really was.

They didn't even try to speak this time, just nodded and dropped their gaze to the ground.

Wormwood squeezed their hands gently to get them to look at him again. "It okay, friend." He said softly. He wished he hadn't used that green mushroom in the crockpot today, but at least he had one other way to fix his friend's low sanity. "Sleep." He gave the order gently, but was clearly not to be disobeyed.

WX didn't seem to be in the mood for arguing as they obediently lay down next to the plant. He settled himself in. Sitting up to watch guard until his friend woke in the morning.

"SHOULD...T...NEED...HELP…" The voice was barely above a whisper, an unusually low volume for the robot.

Wormwood patted their back gently. "Is okay, friend. Don't need to be ashamed for needing help. Everyone need help sometime."

There was a creak as they nodded, then the sound of a buzzing snore as they drifted to sleep.

#don't starve #dont starve #ds wormwood #ds wx-78

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kumeko · 3 years ago

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A/N: For the @fe3hmonthly (on twitter) Goddess Messenger zine! I wanted to write a smattering of pairings I haven’t explored as much as I’d like.

…

Everywhere Claude looked, it was white. The grounds, the roofs, even the sky were this dreary shade of eggshell, as though even nature couldn’t muster up any energy. It was Great Tree Moon, the starting of spring, and yet Fódlan still felt like it was in the throes of winter. He shouldn’t have been surprised; even his textbooks had told him that Fódlan’s winters lasted longer, were colder, and were gloomier than anything he’d experienced in Almyra.

Still, it was one thing to read about it, another to experience it. Claude laced his hands behind his head as he strolled through the interconnecting passages between the academy buildings. All in all, it wouldn’t have been too bad if the buildings were just a little festive. At this point, Almyra was in the middle of spring preparations, the buildings decorated in bright papers and the people in even brighter clothes. The academy? Even the new year decorations were down now, leaving this depressing sight.

Claude hadn’t expected to feel homesick over something as trivial as this. He hadn’t expected to feel homesick at all.

“Hey, Claude!” Hilda waved as she fell in step beside him. Her pink hair bobbed as she walked. Clasping her hands behind her back, she leaned forward and asked, “So, what’s your take on the new professor?”

“Byleth?” Claude raised a brow, looking at his right-hand woman. Another thing he hadn’t expected: finding a partner in Hilda. Her slothful attitude hid a brilliant mind, one almost on par with his for mischief making, and he had plans.

“Who else?” Hilda laughed, shaking her head. “Gosh, you’re so silly sometimes.”

He didn’t bother to reply to that. Instead he hummed thoughtfully as he considered her question. “Byleth…huh…”

“I mean, she must have really impressed you if you asked her to be our teacher.” Hilda straightened up. Tapping her chin, she mused, “I don’t think I could handle Hanneman-levels of strictness. It’d be nice if she was relaxed like Manuela.”

“Neither, I think.” Claude shrugged. Even now he remembered the ease with which she’d protected Edelgard, her confidence as she fought—it put her head and shoulders above the other two teachers. Add in her ridiculously blank face and he had found entertainment for the rest of the year. ��She’s real quick on her feet. Strong too. And unlike Hanneman and Manuela, she has a lot of experience.”

A mercenary who’d seen the continent, who’d travelled from town to town, untouched by the church…part of him wondered just what change she could bring to the academy. To his classmates. To himself. What was her view on things?

“Well, that’s good and all, but…” Hilda groaned. Her long pigtails brushed against him as she hunched over. “She’s totally going to give us a lot of work.”

“Probably,” Claude agreed, patting Hilda on the back. “Especially considering the Battle of Eagle and Lion are coming up. I wonder if she’ll be ready for it.”

Hilda groaned again, leaning against him. He wrapped an arm around her to steady her as she dramatically sighed. “You should have just let us take Manuela.”

“Nah, Teach is perfect for us. Trust me.” Their pace was slower now, his arm still wrapped around Hilda’s waist. Oddly, he didn’t mind. “Though….”

“Though?” Hilda glanced up at him, raising a brow. He didn’t miss the spark of interest in her eyes.

“Well, maybe we could give her a test of our own.” Claude grinned, eyeing the endless snow. This would solve both of his problems. “Something to make sure she’s ready for the Battle of Eagle and Lion, and maybe have a little fun while we’re at it.”

Hilda furrowed her brow, her expression distrustful. “Fun?”

“Back in…” Claude caught himself. “Back at home, my family has this fun tradition every spring. We throw colourful powders at each other.”

Her distrust turned into confusion. “You threw powderat each other?”

“Well, we usually wait till it’s a little warmer too. Trust me, it’s better than it sounds. It’s kinda like a free-for-all tag.” Claude shrugged. If there was one good thing about the border situation with Almyra, it was that no one in Fódlan knew what he was describing. As far as they were concerned, he was just describing an event from a backwater town. “We’ll make it a mock battle. Maybe we could do it with snowballs? Or fill thin waterskins with coloured water?”

The more he spoke, the more enamoured with the idea he became. Their class, just barely acquainted, could properly learn about each other. More importantly, it’d be the first Almyran thing he’d done in a year and he tried to hide his rising enthusiasm. “Maybe it can be all of us against Teach.”

Hilda, however, was on the opposite side of the spectrum. She grimaced. “That sounds like a lotta work.”

“Just a little.” When she still shot him a baleful stare, he tightened his grip on her waist and rested his head on her chin. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You’ll like it. Besides…you can always rope in the others to do the work.”

“I’d do that anyways,” she replied bluntly, though she didn’t pull away or object further.

Claude chuckled. He should have expected that answer. “Fine, you can watch during the game?”

“Let’s just say you owe me one,” Hilda replied, smiling cunningly as she pulled out of his arms.

“Blackmail?” He clutched his heart. “To think you’d stoop so low.”

“Please, like you wouldn’t do the same to me,” Hilda retorted before breaking into laughter.

“True.” Claude shrugged. There was no point in denying it. “Let’s see if Anna’s willing to cut us a deal on some supplies.”

Hilda snorted, hooking an arm through his. “Like she’d let you have a penny.”

“Oh, she’ll give me more.” When Hilda turned to him, bemused, Claude winked. “Blackmail material, remember?”

ii.

The library was quiet. Not in the way Claude was used to, where you could still hear rustling paper and erasers hitting the floor, or the soft groans of students as they tried to finish exams. No, this was the silence of the uninhabited, where only the wind blowing in through the cracks broke the silence.

It had been a long five years since the library had last been used. Holding up his lamp, Claude slowly slung it from side to side, checking the cobweb-covered shelves for intruders. Not even a rat scurried out of his sight. “I guess I can’t tease Lysithea about it now.”

Lorenz didn’t reply as he checked the other half of the dark library. The light flickered, casting shadows on his face and Claude couldn’t read his expression.

Curious, Claude tried again. “Even I feel like a ghost can pop out at any moment.”

“Yes,” Lorenz muttered non-committedly, falling in step with Claude as they exited the room. Everything about him was unnaturally stiff, from his shoulders to the way he jerked at every sound. Grinning, Claude leaned closer and blew in his ear.

Lorenz yelped, jumping. Covering his ear, he glared at Claude. “What is wrong with you?”

“Just thought you needed some help relaxing.” Claude held his hands up in surrender. He hadn’t expected this much of a reaction. “Scared?”

“It is not fear.” Lorenz rubbed his arm, looking away. “It’s just…”

They were passing the courtyard now. Half it was still covered in rubble. “It’s not?” he asked as he stepped over a pothole.

“This place…it’s a graveyard,” Lorenz whispered.

“Oh.” There really wasn’t anything else he could say to that. It was. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but it was.

They rounded the corner to the great hall, where they’d temporarily set up the patrol camp. It was the best place to keep an eye on everything. Lorenz added, “You don’t think my father…our lands and people, will end up like this?”

“What’re you talking about?” Baffled, Claude raised a brow. “We’re fighting this war to prevent that.”

“I know, I know, it is just…the Empire will know my father’s decisions. If we fail…” Lorenz gestured around them. “They will not let us off lightly. Everything could disappear.”

“Oh.” Maybe he should have expected this, considering how they were planning to visit Lord Gloucester. Lorenz’s homeland straddled the border of the battlefield, and while his father had managed to balance its duties to the Leicester Alliance with treaties to the Empire, it couldn’t last much longer.

In the dark night, it was easy for old fears to resurface. They were surrounded by ghosts and the silence only made them louder. Even the few merchants that had returned didn’t make enough sound to echo through the great hall.

Lorenz almost seemed to shrink into himself. “I know it is a little late to say all of this.”

Claude studied Lorenz, taking note of how pale he looked in the faint light and how his fingers shook as he held the lantern. If Lorenz couldn’t convince himself, how could he convince his father? Donning a reassuring smile, he shook his head. “It’ll work out.”

While he didn’t pull away, Lorenz looked at him doubtfully. “How?”

“Because we’re here!” Claude squeezed Lorenz’s shoulder, winking. “A Reigan and a Gloucester? You think anyone can stand up to this combo?”

“I…” Lorenz bit his lip as he slowly nodded, looking utterly unconvinced. “I suppose.”

This wasn’t the Lorenz he was used to; he hadn’t even considered it a chance to best him. Claude sat down on a bench as they exited Great Hall and patted the spot beside him. “Come on. Sit.”

“We haven’t finished our patrol,” Lorenz pointed out, eyeing the bench.

“We can have a little break.” He set down the lantern at his feet. “Come on, it won’t harm us.”

“Until we’re attacked.” Despite his grumbling, Lorenz sat down beside him.

“You can keep me warm till then.” Claude slung his arm around Lorenz. He squawked, his ears a bright red, but he didn’t move away.

As usual, a Lone Moon night was a chilly one. On nights like this in Almyra, Claude’s family would gather, telling stories as they warded off the cold. Winter’s claws desperately dug into spring, but a warm night was enough to chase it away.

“What’re you looking forward to?” Claude asked, staring at the lantern. It didn’t take much imagination to see a bigger flame in its stead, to imagine blankets and hot drinks in their hands. In the last several years, he had learned how to sneak in his customs into life, to keep his Almyran memories alive.

“What do you mean?” Lorenz asked, hesitantly leaning closer.

Claude laughed, pulling him close enough so Lorenz could lean on his shoulder comfortably. This time there wasn’t even a squeak, though Lorenz’s ears were an even darker red. “Well, we’re going to your home, right? Tell me about it.”

He didn’t so much see Lorenz’s frown as much as he felt it. “I suspect your intentions.”

“Completely honest and pure,” he replied easily. Resting his chin on Lorenz’s head, he added, “Just think of it as a way to pass the time.”

For a long moment, Lorenz was silent. Then, slowly, he replied, “There’s a rose garden that I’ve hand-planted. It won’t be much in the spring but come summer…you won’t find bigger blooms anywhere else.”

Claude hummed encouragingly, letting Lorenz’s voice chase away the ghosts.

iii.

Byleth’s hand was in his. There were many things Khalid could have been focusing on, like the fact that they were strolling through an Almyran marketplace together. After the war, he hadn’t thought it’d only take a year for him to return to her side, that he’d make it all the way to king so quickly. Absence didn’t only make the heart fonder, it seemed, but his ambitions stronger too.

Or he could focus on what he was saying. Ever since she’d rode into Almyra’s capital, Khalid had taken it onto himself to guide her through his home. Everything was new to her, and while her expression was still hard to read, it wasn’t impossible anymore. Her eyes widened at the brightly coloured stalls, her lips parted at the scent of sizzling meat and fried vegetables, and her grip tightened every time some new, strange sight caught her attention.

Yet, it was hard to care about anything except for the fact that she was here, next to him, her fingers intertwined in his. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying right now, his normally fast mind frozen as he drank in the sight of her. Her hand was just as rough as he’d remembered. Even months as the ruler of Fódlan hadn’t changed that. Calluses and small cuts littered her palm, and his thumb unconsciously brushed a scar on her thumb.

“Why are there so many?” Byleth asked.

“Because—” Khalid stared at her blankly before realizing he had no idea what she was talking about. Or even where they were. At some point they’d passed through the market and reached the start of the residential section. “…sorry, so many what?”

Byleth glanced at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he replied immediately, squeezing her hand. “The exact opposite.”

She raised a brow, not buying it for a second. Serious as she was, she more often than not saw right through him and Khalid wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Especially when she was still a mystery to him, one he had yet to unravel. He’d probably spend the rest of his life figuring her out.

He oddly enough didn’t mind.

“The kites,” Byleth finally asked, pointing above them. “There weren’t nearly as many yesterday.”

He followed her hand to the bright blue sky, speckled with dozens of colourful kites. There had been a few in the marketplace as well, but now that they were near the homes, the kites were everywhere. Children laughed and shouted as they stood on the flat rooftops, tugging the strings of their kites as they tried not to tangle one another. Their parents kept a watchful eye, ensuring no one fell off as they played along as well.

Khalid had been so busy planning everything, he’d actually forgotten that spring started today. For once, he wasn’t going to spend it in the cold snows of Fódlan, or their dreary hallways. He wouldn’t have to make up a story on old family customs as he convinced his fellow deer to bring his traditions to life and ease his homesickness a little.

No, it was all right here in front of him.

And yet, he couldn’t help but turn to Byleth. It was the first time he’d seen kites dance in several years and all he wanted to see was her expression as she studied their ribbon tails.

“It’s to celebrate spring,” Khalid replied softly, watching her quiet awe. “Nothing as stuffy as Fódlan’s customs.”

“It is different,” she agreed, turning her head slightly to follow a bright red one as it swooped through the air.

“It’s more fun to join in than to watch.” He let go of her hand, scanning their surroundings for a vendor. They weren’t hard to find; almost every shop was selling kites today.

The closest vendor held out two kites, one teal green and the other golden them. Shaking them, he called out, “For you and your consort, Badshah.”

His people were nosy busybodies. Khalid missed the anonymity of his youth, a time when no one cared about who he was or where he went. Still, he was the king now. It wasn’t surprising they were all watching him now.

“I’ll send payment after,” he replied, resisting the urge to sigh as he gently grabbed the two kites.

“No, there is no need—”

“I’m not that cheap,” Khalid replied, grinning as he returned to Byleth’s side. She cocked her head curiously at the kites. “Now let’s—”

“You can fly them here, Badshah!”

Khalid did sigh now. Busybodies, the entire lot of them. Oh well, it was a nice spring day, with a constant, gentle breeze, and Byleth was at his side. He’d save the complaints for later.

The offered roof was two stories off the ground. From here, he could make out the maze of buildings that made the capital, the rooftops he used to dash across as a mischievous child. Byleth brushed back a stray lock as the wind blew. “We fly them up here?”

“Yeah, best spot in the city is one of these rooftops.” Khalid grinned as he handed her the teal kite. Busying himself with unwinding thread for his kite, he added. “There’s a lot of kites here, so you’ll have to keep a tight hold of yours.”

“Why kites?” Byleth stared at her kite, rotating it in her hands. Noticing what he was doing, she imitated him and started to unravel her thread.

“They’re colourful? Fun?” Khalid shrugged. Almost all of his childhood was filled with mundane things that amounted to just cause. He’d spent so much time looking at Fódlan, that he’d never really considered Almyra. Maybe it was time he changed that.

Byleth held her kite awkwardly in one hand, her string in the other. Tossing the kite in the air, she watched as it immediately crashed in front of her. “Huh.”

Immediately, Khalid burst into laughter. “What was that?”

“Flying a kite,” Byleth replied evenly, picking up the kite. Once more, she tossed it in the air. Once more, it crashed right in front of her.

It was even funnier the second time and Khalid wrapped his arms around his belly as he guffawed. “That’s not flying.”

“How do you do it?” she asked, giving him a baleful look.

“You’ve never flown a kite?” He straightened slightly, rubbing the tears out of his eyes.

“No.” Byleth turned the kite in her hands one more time, but her bemused expression didn’t change.

“I don’t know how you always manage to surprise me.” Khalid shook his head, still laughing as he put down his kite and picked up hers. He held it up, waiting for the wind to push against it. Once it did, he grabbed the line, slowly releasing it into the air. As he moved toward Byleth, he released more and more wire, sending the kite high into the sky. “There you go, one flying kite.”

Byleth scrunched her nose as she observed. “I see.”

Unable to help himself, he broke into laughter. “You don’t have to concentrate that hard. It’s easy.”

Her expression didn’t change as she gingerly took the kite. She looked like a wooden doll, square shoulders, tense arms, stony expression as she glared up at the kite, daring it to fall.

“Seriously?” Khalid snorted. There’d come a day when Byleth ceased to either impress him or amuse him, but it wouldn’t be today. “Here, let me show you.”

Standing behind her, he pressed his palms on her shoulders and forced them down. “Relax.” He leaned forward now, his dark hair mixing with her green locks as he guided her arms into a more neutral position. “The wind does most of the work, you just have to guide it.”

“This is harder than it looks,” Byleth muttered, still looking like the kite had personally wronged her.

“Only for you.” Khalid grinned, tugging on the string slightly so the kite swooped. “If you get really good at it, you can even cut other kite strings with your kite.”

Byleth frowned. “Why would you do that?”

“Kite battles. Though, with your stance, you’ll lose every time. Didn’t think you could be bad at something.” Khalid sighed blissfully, feeling utterly content and warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so complete, without something he needed to strive for, without pushing for yet another destination. They could just stay here for the rest of their lives. “You know, I really missed this in Fódlan.”

Byleth didn’t say anything, but he could feel her lean back into him, encouraging him to continue.

“I didn’t think I’d get homesick of all things.” Khalid chuckled, feeling soft at the memories over the years. “I’d find excuses to worm in traditions into whatever we were doing.”

Byleth stiffened slightly. “Is that why you attacked me with coloured water back then?”

“That…yeah.” Khalid had almost forgotten about that incident—it’d been almost six years ago for him, but for Byleth it had only been last year. “You had fun.”

“Fun…” she trailed off doubtfully.

“Well, everyone else did at least.” Khalid grinned. “The actual festival’s going to come up in a few weeks—you can see what the real thing’s like. That is, if you aren’t homesick by then.”

“…I don’t think I’ll be,” Byleth replied easily.

Somehow, that answer didn’t surprise him. “I bet you’ve never felt homesick, huh?”

“No, I have.” Byleth tugged on the kite string, pulling it lower before releasing it back up. “When you were gone.”

Of all the answers he’d expected, that wasn’t one of them. His voice cracked. “Did you now?”

“Yeah.” Byleth concentrated on the kite, as though this were just an idle observation, as though she hadn’t said anything important.

Khalid wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. Despite how stoic she was, she saw everything so clearly. Suddenly, everything clicked into place for him—he’d been feeling homesick too. It didn’t matter if he was in Almyra or in Fódlan, the sights around him meant nothing if she wasn’t by his side. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Byleth hummed, pressing her cheek on his head. “Me too.”

#claurenz #claudeleth #hilclaude #claude von riegan #lorenz hellman gloucester #hilda valentine goneril #byleth eisner #fe3h #i want an easy way to find ship names #fanfic

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archester-creations · 3 years ago

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Pussywillow

Here’s my piece from the Offline Miya zine!

Not every day, but some days after school Miya would help Shadow at the flowershop. Initially, he hadn't planned for it to become a fairly common thing. He'd just wanted to bother Shadow. Poke fun at him, maybe talk to that manager he'd seemed to like so much. But when he went, an older lady had assumed he worked there and didn't even ask if he didn't before she shoved two flowers at him and asked for his opinion. It'd thrown him off enough he actually answered. Then the manager- Arisa, he eventually learned- shoved a bouquet into his hands and he could only blink as she shoved him toward someone at the counter, apparently deciding he would be an employee that day. Later he had learned Shadow’d called in sick and she was alone. Telling her that he was Shadow’s little sibling the first time he'd come here bit him in a way he hadn't expected, since she seemed to think he'd been sent to take Shadow’s place. (Of course, he didn't correct her. Not that he'd really had a chance to. It was busier than he'd expect a flowershop of all things to be. She'd paid him a little after, though. Which was nice.) After that he'd just kinda… started ending up there. More and more. The flowers smelled nice and it was a nice escape from school and the professional side of skating. Especially when he was busy. And when it was empty, it was fun to heelie around the shop with the shoes he'd convinced Kojiro to get him, making random bouquets. One of which he was even able to bring home. (It was his favourite- pink carnations and white lilies and ferns and lilacs and pink hyacinth.) It was… nice. More nice than he’d ever thought it’d be, though he’d admit he hadn’t exactly expected to end up here the first time he snuck over with Reki and Langa to bug Shadow into taking them to the onsen. Or any of the other times he came over to bother Shadow. Whether alone or not. What could he say, Shadow was fun to make fun of.

“Okay you little runt,” Shadow came toward him, a large bucket of flowers in hand, “move over.”

“Isn’t there a magic word you’re supposed to use?” Miya asked. When Shadow only glared at him and moved past anyway, grumbling something about cats and always being underfoot as he went, Miya stuck his tongue out. Even without the ‘please’ he rolled enough out of the way so Shadow wouldn’t trip. If a mess was made, they’d have to clean it up. Something he learned after an unfortunate accident almost had Arisa revoke his heelie rights. Thankfully his pleading face did wonders, even if it never fazed Kaoru. He followed Shadow outside, where the older skater filled the bucket with water. There was a low, wooden fence out here that really felt like it separated the back area from the outside world. A vine traveled up it, dotted with small yellow flowers. The shop didn’t really use them. Most of what they sold were bouquets or singular flowers and they weren’t really suited for either. But they fit the atmosphere of a flower shop. Sometimes Miya would catch Shadow taking care of them. Especially after dealing with especially trying customers. Or sometimes the day after a beef that went badly. About the second time Miya caught him, he figured Arisa put them there specifically for that reason. Next to the fence was a wooden box, which Miya rested his feet on when he jumped up to sit on the fence.

Shadow looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Shop is almost closing. Do you… need me to take you home?”

Every day Miya worked there, Shadow would ask that. And every time, he’d get the same answer.

“Nah, I have my skateboard.”

There was silence, filled only by the hose in the bucket. Before Shadow could ask a second time just to make sure- something that also happened everytime. The things Miya learned about Shadow. The blackmail . If he ever had the desire to, he could probably do some serious harm to Shadow’s S reputation. … He wouldn’t . Because he at least sorta cared about Shadow. But he could- a small, almost pitiful noise filled the air. A noise that immediately had Miya’s ears peaked. Was that-? It came again.

Mr-oow .

He turned to Shadow. “Did you hear that?” The look Shadow gave him, half worried and half concerned was all the answer he needed. He jumped down, making a meowing noise of his own in the hopes the cat would answer. It did, with the slightest delay. In a call and response, Miya kept it up until he found the cat. Bright blue eyes looked up at him from a bush. A small mouth opened wide. Me-roow? With a delighted gasp, Miya lifted the kitten from the bush. Dirt clung to short black fur and its toe beans. The hose turned off and Shadow walked up behind him.

“Oh no, we are not keeping a cat.”

Miya turned on his heel to look up at the older skater. “You’re right,” he smirked and held the kitten out to him. “ You are.”

“What?-”

“ I can’t keep it,” Miya interrupted him. “Much as I’d love to, Joe’s allergic. I’d never get it in the door.”

“Then we’ll take it to an animal shelter!”

“And leave it to fend for itself??” Miya gasped, all fake dramatic and half fake anger, as he pulled the kitten close to his chest. This was the closest he’s gotten to actually owning a cat. He was not passing up this opportunity. “Who knows what kind of people might adopt it! If it even does manage to get adopted. I can’t leave this kitten’s fate up to chance.” And he pulled out his best pleading eyes, even jutting his lower lip out in a pout.

“Why don’t you just use those on your dad?” Shadow mumbled quietly before he sighed. “Alright, alright, I’ll take the fuzzball. Just put that away already.”

Miya lit up pleasantly, just barely keeping his smile from being too smug. “Thanks, Shadow!”

“Yeah, yeah, you little monster,” Shadow said with a flat look.

Luckily they didn't have to worry about the kitten in the shop. Arisa took one look at it and cooed. “Are you gonna take care of it?”

“Dad’s allergic so big brother said he would!” Miya quickly nodded. No backing out now.

“That's so sweet.” Arisa smiled and petted the kitten between its ears. It let out a loud purr as she did. Miya smiled as its little chest rumbled beneath his fingertips.

For once, at the end of their shift, Miya let Shadow drive him home. After they did some shopping and stopped by Shadow’s apartment, in that order.

(“Do we even need all this stuff?”

“Of course! Have you never taken care of a cat before?”

“Have you?”

“ My dad’s allergic to cats, it doesn't count. Plus I've done a lot of research.”)

Shadow grumbled on his way up the two flights of stairs, carrying the litter and cat food (canned and dry). After he got this stuff inside he'd head back down for the scratching post, fluffy bed, and cat toys. Because there was no way he was going to be stupid enough to try this in two trips. In front of him, Miya jumped up the stairs carrying only the cat and the keys he'd filched. So far the kitten seemed content in Miya’s arms. It just laid there and purred. Every so often Miya would scratch between its ears and the purring would briefly increase in volume. When he unlocked and opened the door he turned slightly so the kitten could get a look at Shadow’s apartment. “This is where you'll be living,” he said and bright blue eyes slowly blinked open. They looked around the apartment from his arms as Miya toed out of his shoes. This was actually the first time Miya’d been there, too. The apartment was smaller than his- a one bedroom-one bathroom compared to the two bedroom-two bathroom he lived in- though Miya assumed that was because Shadow lived alone. Of course that meant he'd need less space. There was a small balcony, too. Dark orange curtains were open, allowing light to enter the apartment.

“Thanks for the help.” There was a thud as something hit the ground. Probably the litter.

“Of course,” Miya said, not even looking back at Shadow. Something had caught his eye. A rectangular box outside on the floor of the balcony. Miya tilted his head and went to check it out.

It was wooden and full of dirt, with two very green, leafy plants. One of them was basically a bush and curled at least partly around a short metal stick that stuck up close to where it came out of the dirt. He was pretty sure it was a tomato plant. The second was close to the ground. This one he didn't recognize. Both plants had very similar yellow flowers, though. Miya knelt next to it. There was a green watering can with white flowers painted onto it next to it that made Miya snort, but he didn't touch it. “You grow vegetables?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I just didn't expect you to be that much of a gardener.”

“I have plants at the store,” Shadow said.

“Yeah, but I figured those were just to impress Arisa. Guess that explains why none of them have died,” Miya said.

“What do you mean by that, you little brat?” Shadow grumbled. Miya ignored it.

“So what kind are they?”

“What?” The glass door slid open further.

Miya poked at one of the leaves on the assumed tomato plant since it was closest to him. It was sort of fuzzy. The kitten shifted in his arms and he adjusted his hold so it couldn't jump out. “What kind of vegetables are they?”

“They're tomatoes,” Shadow said from much closer than before. Miya looked up to see Shadow’s jaw. When Shadow moved, he looked down again to see him point at the second plant. “And these are zucchini.”

“Neat,” Miya said. So he was right. He moved the kitten closer so it could sniff at the flowers. As it did it opened its mouth to bite at a petal. Before it could, Shadow grabbed it and set it inside.

Despite not helping him bring anything in, Miya does help Shadow set everything up. Of course. He needed to make sure everything would be good for the kitten. And needed to make sure Shadow knew how to take care of a kitten- though, out of the group he definitely trusted Shadow the most with this. By the time Miya is ready to go, the kitten is sniffing around Shadow’s apartment and being generally nosy. Miya can understand.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Shadow asked.

“I’m fine . I have my skateboard,” Miya held it up as if to say ‘see?’ and Shadow rolled his eyes, with his arms crossed.

“Alright, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you at work, big brother!” Miya chirped and left out the door before Shadow could even protest. He thought about possible kitten names on his way home.

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #miya chinen #chinen miya #shadow sk8 #higa hiromi #hiromi higa #fluff #this was fun

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