#i'm too tired to articulate why it felt like such a good place for her to go after being freed but it's just right

[msommers]

i can now legally share iggy's board and playlist

[skyloftian-nutcase]

"Shouldn't he rest, though?"

"If he stays in bed too long, he'll only grow weaker."

Link turned his face away from the voices, eager to slip back into the peaceful inky black of slumber. His head was hurting too much for this.

"Wake up, little hero."

A hand shook him slightly, pushing his shoulder further into the comfortable mattress. The movement sent a spike of pain up his neck into his skull, further articulating the headache he was desperately trying to ignore. With an angry, sharp inhale, he opened his eyes.

When he turned to view the person in question, he remembered his situation.

Huffing, he rasped, "What do you want?"

"I don't need your attitude, kid," Nabooru quipped lightly. "This is for your own good. You need to get up, and you need to eat and drink."

Link came up with a few snarky responses but found he was too tired to argue the matter. He let her pull him into a seated position, and he shifted his feet to the edge of the bed hesitantly. The last time he'd tried this he'd nearly passed out. He wasn't even sure how long ago that had been at this point - the exhaustion finally seemed to have won out over his will to escape.

Did that make him pathetic or intelligent? Zelda had always pushed herself so hard and never seemed to stop. He should do better.

Gritting his teeth, the captain pushed himself to stand. Nabooru had steadying hands on him, helping him shakily take a few steps towards the door.

Alertness came to him an instant, alongside hope. He was moving! He could survey his situation better if he let her guide him outside, he could find a way to escape the Gerudo stronghold, perhaps even retrieve the Triforce that Ganondorf had stolen!

Air moved on his other side, the only hint he had of someone moving beside him before an unsettling face invaded his personal space.

"Oh, so the wretched Hero is up and about now?" Ghirahim purred, lips curling in an unsettling smile.

"You're in the way," Nabooru said flatly.

The demon lord huffed, straightening and crossing his arms. "Must you ruin the moment, woman? You don't understand how long I've waited for this."

"Your rivalry is with the spirit, not the child," Nabooru said firmly. "Leave him be."

Link blinked, confused. With the spirit?

Oh. The Spirit of the Hero. The same person Cia had fallen into an obsession with. The same person who Zelda looked to with hope and conviction and dedication. The person who was supposed to be him, the person he strove to be every day.

Why... why were they talking about it like it was someone else?

Link scoffed. "I'm not a child. I am the bearer of the Hero's Spirit. If it's a fight you want--"

The rest of the captain's statement was cut off with a yelp as Nabooru swatted at Ghirahim and dragged Link away. "That's enough of this nonsense. I took you out here to get fresh air, not pick a fight with the first idiot you find."

"Idiot?!" Ghirahim repeated, affronted, though he was left behind by the pair as Link was practically carried outside the compound.

It was evening outside, Link realized, making him feel all the more disoriented. How long had it been since his capture? How long had been asleep? It had certainly been brighter when he'd encountered Ganondorf.

As he was guided to sit in a pile of cushions, a waterskin placed into his hands, Link saw a group of Gerudo women dancing and laughing. Others were playing music, and a crowd was clapping along. On a raised platform sat their king, also enjoying the festivities, though much more solemnly than his warriors. Ganondorf's eyes flicked over to the captain a moment, studying him, and Link felt his skin crawl. He glared defiantly in return.

Ganondorf returned his attention elsewhere, and Link's brooding was interrupted when Nabooru snapped her fingers in his face.

"Drink," she ordered.

Reluctantly, Link complied. There was no point in not hydrating; he needed strength to find a way out of this place. After a few sips, his body suddenly registered just how utterly dehydrated he was, and he emptied it in a heartbeat.

Glancing to her left, Nabooru said, "Watch him."

Link looked to his right and saw another Gerudo warrior walk up beside him, sword drawn and held erect against the ground while her hands rested overtop the hilt.

"What do you people want from me?" he asked, his voice gaining some strength now that his throat wasn't quite so parched.

"I wanted to kill you," the woman grumbled, and Link recognized her as the last thing he saw before he was knocked out in battle. "But our king had other plans."

The captain once again glanced at the perpetrator of this entire mess, feeling himself shiver a little. What did such a monster want with him? He already had the Triforce, after all. Was Link needed for some kind of ritual?

Was he going to capture Zelda as well, then?

Wait... was Link bait?

He had to get out of here.

Nabooru returned quickly, a bowl of curry in her hands. She held it out to the captain, who hesitantly took it. The guard walked away silently.

"I don't suppose you can tell me why your king wants me alive," Link muttered, staring at the curry. He didn't really know how to feel about any of this at this point, except that he was most certainly on edge and wanted to get the hell away from here.

Nabooru watched him a moment, seeming to make a decision in her mind, and sat beside him to watch the dancers. The lively music didn't quite reach the cold atmosphere Link's dread generated, but the Gerudo woman at his side was a steady presence, somehow less intimidating than the others.

"You are the Hylian Hero," Nabooru said. "The Spirit of the Hero travels with you."

"I am the Hero," Link emphasized, feeling his ire rise. He had drawn the Master Sword, he had led troops into battle time and again, he bore the Triforce of Courage, and he was the one Zelda had chosen to wear the legendary garb.

"Our king is quite interested in you," Nabooru continued, ignoring his interruption. "I must confess, I didn't expect you to be so... young."

Rolling his eyes, Link looked away. "Many say that. Most don't live to regret it."

Nabooru laughed at that. "Spoken like a warrior filled with spirit and a thirst to prove himself. I admire your ability to fight, child. Don't doubt that. I started fighting around your age too. But don't forget your place. You are still young, and you know very little of the world outside of a battlefield."

"Am I going to learn about wartime strategy and politics here, then?" Link prodded, glancing back at her. "Am I being held hostage as a bartering chip?"

"My understanding of it is that you're being held to keep you safe," Nabooru answered unexpectedly, looking him in the eye with a seriousness he wasn't expecting. "But only the king knows his own plans. I just happen to be the leader of the Gerudo."

"I thought the king was?"

"He wasn't here until a few weeks ago," Nabooru replied, looking away. "Our people were mostly wiped out by Hyrule."

Link felt his throat go dry, and he had no words to say while simultaneously having so many in his mind.

What did she mean that Hyrule had wiped out the Gerudo? Had they attacked Hyrule in the past? A war between the Gerudo and Hyrule could explain why Link barely knew of their existence, and why that other guard wanted him dead. But what about the other statement, about keeping him safe? What kind of nonsense was that?

Ganondorf needed him for something, clearly. He needed him, and he knew Link was too powerful a soldier to keep in play in the war. He was crippling the Hyrulean army and preventing Link from dying so he could utilize him for something.

This had to do with the Triforce, didn't it? Link knew so little of the artifact, except for its origin story.

He wished Lana was here to explain the situation. He'd even take Impa.

Sighing, Link stared at his curry, his stomach growling but his appetite disappearing as his musings clouded his mind.

[farity]

Let's Pretend, part 10

"I would not wish to send you away, Aemond," Viserys said. "Mostly for selfish reasons. I have just come back to my family, and I should wish to get to know my children again."

Aemond's face gave nothing away, but he was glad of his father's words. Not necessarily because he believed his relationship with his father would be a good one now, there was too much cynicism in him to believe that, but because he felt as if he had just become settled and did not wish to begin again somewhere else.

"Very well, father."

"Marriage seems to agree with you." The king's eyes bore into him. "Is it true what I have heard? That it all began as a pretense?"

Without missing a beat, Aemond replied. "It began unexpectedly, because I had low opinions of marriage, given everything I have seen. But we are well suited and I am very glad to have found someone like her."

He saw the look in his father's face. Viserys didn't necessarily believe him, but he could tell he was getting nothing else from his son, so he nodded. "I am glad of it. Although she does not seem to entirely understand her new status - your mother has mentioned seeing her talking and laughing with one of the servants."

When Aemond said nothing, Viserys raised his hands. "I do not care, either. Go, I need to speak with Helaena."

Aemond tensed. "Helaena?"

"Aegon tells me it is his wish to no longer be married to her, and that she agrees, but I wish to hear what Helaena wishes going forward." He shook his head. "Why can't they just pretend-"

"Maybe we're all fucking tired of pretending," Aemond snapped.

Viserys glared at him, but said nothing for a few seconds. "I shall take your most articulate opinion into account."

Aemond shrugged. "You do not have to. But you keep saying you want a new beginning, so why proceed as you did before?"

* * * * *

He passed Helaena on his way out of his father's rooms, and as usual, she went to him, pressed a kiss on his cheek. "My dear Aemond."

"Sweet sister," he replied, kissing her forehead. "Do not be afraid of speaking your mind, you deserve everything you wish for."

He left her, a small smile on her pretty face, and went towards his rooms.

To his surprise, he found his niece sitting on the floor with his wife, and Jaehaera's nurse sitting a few steps away.

"Pretty!"

"And if you make these little Vs over here, it looks like birds," his wife was saying.

Jaehaera laughed and he felt something tugging at his heart. "Aemond!" she exclaimed, standing up and rushing to him, arms up for him to lift her.

"How is my sweet niece?" He lifted his niece and walked over to where his wife had stood and placed a kiss on her lips. "And my delightful wife?"

"We're painting!" the little girl said. "Want to see?"

He put Jaehaera down and she ran to get her latest masterpiece while he ran a hand down his wife's hair. "We are staying here. I hope that is agreeable to you."

"Look!"

He took the piece of paper depicting a field of flowers, everything so colorful that he had to smile. "Very pretty, Jaehaera!" he said, kissing the top of her head. He exchanged a smile with his wife, who was watching him closely.

Jaehaera ran out, followed by her nurse, who closed the door as she left, and he turned to his wife. "My heart," he said as she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. "As I mentioned, father wants to keep us around to renew our familial bonds." He couldn't help the trace of sarcasm that slipped into his words.

She wrapped her arms around him. "You know, being that close to death might have scared him into making a change or two," she said gently. "I'm not saying he's going to be a completely changed man or it will be easy, but maybe give him a chance."

"You are sent by the Seven themselves, I swear." He pulled her in for another kiss, his hands lowering to cup her ass. "Although my thoughts about you are often anything but holy." He kissed her neck, felt her hips press against him and he hauled her up to take her to their bed.

Before she could undo the laces on her gown, he'd pushed her skirts up and begun to kiss the inside of her thigh. While he nipped at her skin, he ran the back of one finger ever so gently between her legs, and she whimpered. He began making small circles, his knuckle rubbing against the knot of nerves that could undo her.

"Oh," she whispered while he pushed her down onto the bedcovers. "That is, oh, that is wicked."

He laughed, going higher up on her thigh, until her could replace his finger with his tongue. "What is wicked," he said, "is my wanton wife spread like this in the middle of the day," he swept his tongue over her and she trembled. "So beautiful wet for me," he continued, "so ready for me. Do you think you would be this wet for anyone else on your damned list?" He pushed two fingers in and she gasped. "Answer me."

"Aemond," she breathed, and he spread his fingers inside her, making her whimper again.

"You will answer me, sweet wife."

"Only you. There's only you, Aemond."

He hummed against her, curling his fingertips. "Shall I make sure you remember that, my heart?"

"Yes, please," she panted, reaching down to grab his hair.

He tasted her, devoured her, until she swooned, going limp with pleasure, her body wholly his. Beyond her beauty, beyond her wit, he loved her heart, and that she had chosen to give it to him.

After, he held her against him, smiling as he remembered the day he had first read that slip of a note that had changed his life.

END

* * * * *

Tagging:

@arryn-nyx   @girlwith-thepearlearring    @greenowlfactif  @hydrationqueensworld    @megzdoodle   @melsunshine  @queenofshinigamis     @throughgoeshamilton   @travelingmypassion    @watercolorskyy  @zillahvathek

@hb8301   @kaemond-zafiro​    @arcielee

Tagging for this fic:

@shros3b  @malfoytargaryen @fedeffy @randomdragonfires  @issshhh  @opheliaas-stuff   @brianochka    @devils-blackrose​  @wolflinkpaws​  ​   @fangirlninja67​   @dahlias-and-marigolds​  @fedeffy  @smailaway   @wasntpriscilla

[sincelastsession]

I think what hurts the most is that I have love for him and I see his love for me. Everyone has told me he was wrong...and he was. He probably still is. He is probably sad and angry. I'm sad and angry. I feel like I screwed up. I feel like he screwed up as well though. I don't understand why I held myself accountable for whatever I did that hurt him. I don't understand why I fawned. I don't understand why he couldn't understand me. I was getting there. I didn't need him to treat me like sex needed to bed had. I understand he misunderstood me. I'm not like him. He seemed to want me to act like someone I'm not.

Even if I did tease him. A woman teasing a man is not thing she needs to apologize for. "Oh I'm so sorry I turned you on and you assumed I immediately was wanting to jump into sex.

Romance exists. Tact exists. Being a fucking man and being brave enough to admit that you're a very wrong fuckface and I'd love to call him an idiot but he's not stupid.

He didn't like my nature that made him feel like he couldn't be himself. All I asked was for my boundaries to be met with understanding and to be respected.

It hurts because sex is not everything in a relationship. Not everyone in a relationship has sex and not everyone in a relationship needs it to be happy. I don't think it would have been sex less once I was comfortable. I was looking forward to it. But I kept getting turned off.

What makes me angrier is that when he actually shuts the hell up and just doesn't bring up sex and talks to me about other things I find that attractive.

He had a problem with me bringing up other partners and even Travis my chosen brother. He had a problem with me talking to other people other than my therapist about how things were going. He was so worried about me talking to Travis about how something inappropriate he did because I didn't know how to articulate what to say to him about it. "I don't want him to think I'm some creep" Did he think about how I felt or how I thought it was odd to want to show me his dick even though I said no. That's I believe some form of harassment.

I chose to be kind to him today. He'd apologized for making me cry. "Hope your day is good, didn't mean to make you cry" I began to call him to accept his apology but then I said "Thank you for the apology" "But I think I need to process therapy so we can have a chat tomorrow I believe that will be a good time to talk."

I don't want to talk. I hate him and I like him at the same time but I know it wouldn't end well. It would be like self harm. I'd hurt him too. I'd break his heart.

I didn't want to admit to him I'm not over my ex. But why does it matter? I'm poly. I can be in one relationship and grieve another and date other people. That doesn't make me unfit to love someone or unethical.

I'm so conflicted feeling.

I want Matt to shoosh me. I want his domination and affection. I don't want him to be busy. I don't want to be alone. I'm tired of being alone. I've done that most of my life.

I want my ex. I miss him in my life as well. I miss what we had. I am so mad at him for fucking that up. I don't know how to explain it other than when I first met him and spent time with him I felt I knew him from somewhere, another time, another place, some weird shit like that. I can't shake any of if even if he's acting like a twat.

I'm not so excited about Hannah. She's not terrible so far but I don't even know if I want her in my life right now. I don't know how to explain.

The person I wanted most in my life is dead. I can't even remember his voice. I can't remember how the guitar sounded when he played. I will have to go listen to Coldplay Yellow and Nirvana and Hendrix and Marvin Gaye now. That was love. It was young love but it was real.

[perfect-fourth]

What was visible of his knuckles beneath the sleeves he wore had begun to whiten under the vice-like grip of his fingers against his knees, intentionally keeping them locked in place. If he didn't, he couldn't promise to keep them to himself. In those moments that he spent listening to the elder man advise him, all he wished to do was lay a palm against his thigh in a show of unneeded comfort, or perhaps even some semblance of solidarity. Jericho Swain wasn't the sort to let his emotions get the better of him, but hearing his poignantly articulated speech was proof enough to the artist that despite the soulless entity that ravaged him, there was still something in there that was a good man. He could understand why there were people so heartfelt on following him to an early grave. He himself had been seduced by the politician, even now, his unblinking, shining eyes set forward on the curve of his lips, hanging off every word that left them.

Though it might not have appeared that his words had struck the one who he consoled, the enchantment Jhin felt from experiencing such grace from someone who was usually so keen to chide and demean him didn't circumvent the wisdom in those words, even if they were spoken in his 3rd language. If anything, Khada Jhin, ever the poet, found the metaphor in his story even easier to grasp than he might a blunt declaration of truth. The steady tone of the Noxian settled his sorrow, if only a touch, and only for the moment. But that moment meant something, and it gave him brief pause to think on what he said.

When he finally did speak again, it was with a weariness that laid heavy in his lungs. He was tired, too.

"I accept my lot. That doesn't make it any less gut-wrenching." He pointed out, too exhausted to really thrust any bitterness into the statement. He wouldn't have wanted to anyway; it was rare to catch the General in such a mind frame. Twilight always carried the barest truths on her wings.

"Your conviction. I admire it-- truly. I wish that-- I could be like you, really. So steadfast and unyielding, no matter what lurks on the horizon." A soft chuckle, though there was nothing humorous in his words. It was more to lessen stress.

"I knew that passion, not long ago. But it seems so distant now. It was much easier to lie to myself about my motivations and desires with my eyes closed." He hushed, eyes visibly shutting when he stated that-- and remaining as such.

"When I die, they believe it could end catastrophically. A violent magical backlash of undetermined magnitude-- or transcendence into actual demonhood. That's the only reason I've been allowed to live so long. The only reason they sought to try and 'rehabilitate' me. They don't think I know that, but I do. If not for that, then for my skill set. I'll leave my mark in this world. It's inevitable. I trust that you, if anyone, would at least allow me the freedom to choose how I meet my end." He let that linger a moment before he'd keep on, his voice at first more steady, though it was difficult to push away the warbling of impending tears again as he spoke on. He probably shouldn't have told Swain of all people these secrets, but he trusted him. He knew it was stupid for him to do so. But he did.

"It was so simple before I met you, to maintain that cognitive dissonance. I knew well enough back then that such trivialities like love and affection weren't meant for me. Even if I did somehow manage to-- overcome it all, my death would still be an expedited promise from those I've scorned. I ... I suppose, in a way, I should thank you. Even if we'll never be what I want-- even if we-- if I can't--even though it still burns-- you still gave me a taste of something I never thought I'd be able to experience. Thank you, for that. I'm sorry I've been so difficult to deal with. But you're right. I just need to...accept it. And focus on my own vision." There was something dark hidden in that last line, sorrow aside. They were the words of a man who only wished to watch the world burn to ashes.

HIS EYES TRAVELLED over the other; head to toe he examined him in silence as he spoke. And the more Jhin opened up, the more wrinkled features filled with intrigue. The narration brought him back to those over-dramatized novels he would devour in his youth. Come to think of it, the virtuoso was reminiscent of those characters; so accentuated in his every move, tragicomic in his history. Perhaps that was why he tolerated his presence; perhaps all of this had been naught more than a pathetic final attempt to revive the joys of youth.

Or, maybe it was getting too late for this conversation. He had been on his way to rest when he took note of the other, after all. But then Khada Jhin's graphic introspection offered a rare chance to share the tranquility of a calm conversation. So, his shoulders sunk beneath his night gown & legs splayed lightly as he settled into his seat.

"Hm." He browsed the ceiling for an answer. Stars could scarcely be spotted in the capital's sky; the arch-mage council had concluded that their decrease over the ages was a matter of magical pollution. Momentarily, Jericho's thoughts spiraled to addressing that issue; but he regained composure just as soon as a sting sizzled the top of his spine, suggesting he should readjust his posture.

"Not particularly, no." Lowering his chin, he leaned his head against the wall to face his guest. "But happiness is an ephemeral thing. All sentiment is. At the end of the day what truly matters, in my opinion, are deeds." Brow arched; the fires in his eyes slowed to a simmer. His response, however curt, had been delivered effortlessly; without a trace of bitterness.

"Deeds last. History lasts. I do not live to be happy. I live to serve my vision; my hope is that, when my time comes, I will leave knowing I left this world a little more orderly than how I found it." He turned to face straight ahead, then, lips pursing thoughtfully.

"In Shurima, there exists a kind of sinking sand. When my party back in the day arrived to one of the oasis where such a thing exists, a veteran of mine..." His head dropped, licking his lips as if to contain a soft chuckle. There was genuine amusement, and a nostalgic tone. "...he was not the bright type, if you follow; the poor bleeder walked into the thing and started sinking. And, as you can imagine, he started writhing too..."

"The more he was struggling, the more he sunk. All dozen of us were not enough to pry him from that thing. That hole became his grave. And then, when he had finally stopped struggling, we watched as the sands unearthed his frozen body." He nodded, moreso to himself as he could not be sure that Jhin was following in his narration. His point was a metaphorical one, after all.

"The more you struggle, the deeper you sink. Once you begin to accept things; only then can you muster your way out."

[nincompoopydoo]

LOVE IS STRANGE

PAIRING: Poe Dameron x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k SUMMARY: The union of Ireca and Mohash may seem a typical cliche of love in comparison to your depressingly lonely state, but when a certain poster boy pilot emerges during the celebration, you wonder if love works in other underlying ways. A/N: I found this in my google docs, first written about a year ago. so, wohoo i present to you my first ever poe dameron content, i think? he's so charming and carelessly beautiful. please leave a comment and tell me what you think or what else you'll like to see from me 💖 gif by @john-seed from this gifst WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, space swearing. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

Love is strange. Delicate yet fierce. So forceful that it manages to seep through the cracks created by bombs and gunfire of war. Unexpected at times, appearing out of nowhere. Yet, it’s beautiful because it brings those with beautiful hearts and minds together, entangled in the constant dance of intimacy and devotion.

It’s what Ireca and Mohash have.

Ireca was from the Logistic division, a mechanic herself and your colleague. She was to be married to her long-time lover, Mohash, a flight engineer for the Cobalt Squadron. As far as cliches go, wartime love falls along the lines of a romance cliche. Yet, war was all you’ve known. It’s what everyone has ever known. It’s common to develop some kind of a feeling other than the constant emotions during battle—fondness, the feeling of falling in love with someone. It’s truly what we stay alive for.

Maybe that’s why you hate it so much. The absence of the feeling that everyone describes as so fucking amazing that it completes you. You feel empty most of the time. It’s definitely the reason why you put all your effort into fixing things you can rather than complicated problems and issues that continue to reside in your mind, especially in the wake of midnight.

You find yourself sitting by the makeshift bar, tucked away from the crowd of friends and colleagues. There’s music playing, the sound of drums, and the seven-string hallikset reminds you of your brief visit to Naboo three cycles ago. You’re nursing a warm cup of something that tastes closer to acid water than alcohol.

Ireca emerges from the crowd with flowers in her braided hair. She approaches you with a bright smile and calls out your name wistfully. You shoot a strained smile her way, feeling the bags under your eyes weigh a little more. “What are you doing here all by yourself, huh?” she asks, leaning against the bar with a gentle pat on your shoulder.

“I’m just really tired. Last night was rough. Plus, I’m behind schedule.” you sighed heavily, running your fingers through your hair. She flashed you a smile of sympathy as you continued, “I’m sorry, Ireca. Don’t let me ruin your night. Go, have fun.”

She raises an eyebrow as you take another sip from your cup.

"Go. I'm sure you don't want to miss Mohash's special performance." You gesture to a drunk Mohash, who seemed to be searching for the woman. Ireca merely laughed. "Oh, it sure is going to be special." With a gentle touch to your back and wave, you watch her make her way into the swarm of bodies. You're left alone once again.

You’re still trying to figure out how Mohash even got hold of any sort of alcohol and managed to smuggle it into the base. Someone must have nicked it during one of the previous missions in the Mid Rim.

You rub your eyes, half-awake at this point; your cup is placed beside you as you rest your head against your folded arms on the table. Your mind is in a daze and incapable of irrational thought, deciding it would be best to just camp out here, by the makeshift bar, for the night. You were too tired to drag yourself all the way to your quarters, which felt like miles away, in the first place.

As sleep began to weigh heavy upon your eyelids, you suddenly felt a sharp tap on your shoulder. A soft groan escaped your lips as you shifted your head, still resting on your arms, just enough to peek at your sleep intruder.

It’s Poe Dameron. Commander and Black Leader. Incredibly talented, confident, and effortlessly handsome.

Ugh, you hate this guy.

Yet, you don’t feel so tired anymore.

“Are you drunk?” There’s amusement in his voice with a tinge of mockery. It made you realize the stun you were pulling. Classic Dameron. It was supposed to be a happy ceremony, but it was truly Ireca’s fault for manipulating you into coming tonight. Parties, events, and social gatherings were never right up your alley. You prefer spending time with machinery and your greasy hands.

Poe’s eyes are gleaming under the fluorescent lights, filled with concern, but you spot the smugness in his emerging smile. A flash of a thought, you kind of want to feel his lips on yours. The image immediately stings. You want to gag.

Poe is irritating, arrogant, and careless. Not charming. Nope, definitely not charming.

You straighten yourself, trying to shake off the burning image, shoving it to the back of your head. You lift your head, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on the heel of your hand. “You actually think I’ll even touch that bantha shit?”

Tearing your eyes away from Poe, you reach for your cup only to realize it was empty. He casts you a look. Your eyes shoot daggers with an extended pointer finger his way, “Don’t you dare say anything, flyboy.”

Poe raises his palms in defense, lips pursing. “Wasn’t going to.”

You catch a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, one hand discreetly reaching under his tawny leather jacket. Then, a bottle of Corellian whiskey emerges, shining under the lights of the Resistance hangar. Your face lights up at the recognition of the bottle, memories of your rare trips to Corellia, sharing whiskey drinks with your colleagues. It was the only planet you’d been to ever since you joined the Resistance.

You’ve only tasted Corellian whiskey once because of how expensive it is. You’ll happily get drunk to that in a heartbeat. Drink the worry and sorrow away with the lingering taste of frankly exorbitant whiskey.

Like a child with grabby hands, you reach for the bottle, but as your fingers brush his, Poe quickly lifts it to the air and away from you. He smacks your hand away. You whine, feeling a little lightheaded. The contents of the mysterious drink are starting to kick in.

What the blinkin' mradhe muck was in that drink?

“What do you want from me? It’s not like I have a drinking problem.”

He’s giving you that look like he’s judging you, but with a hint of amusement at the slight tug of the corner of his mouth. “You definitely have a drinking problem, but... i'll let you drink this on one condition.”

“For kriff’s sake,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, glancing away. “I’m not doing any weird wacky favors for you, Dameron.”

He scoffs, expression bewildered. “Hey, I don’t ask for weird wacky favors,” He articulates his words with a defensive tone, index finger stretched to your face. You simply smack it away as Poe clicks his tongue and continues to clarify his proposition. “All I’m asking is for you to fix my ship.”

Your wide-eyed gaze flies to him, shaking your head furiously. “Oh, no, no. No. Never in a million cycles. Never in a million millennials. Nuh-uh—”

“Hey, quit being dramatic. It’s a simple job.”

Your eyes grow even wider, voice raising. “A simple job? You fly that ship of yours like we have hundreds of spare ones. I’m not putting all my time and effort into fixing a lost cause.”

“But you haven’t even—”

“No. I’m not fixing your ship, and that’s final.”

Poe blinks and you’re back to fussing over your empty cup. The chatter of the crowd grows louder as a group of pilots of the Cobalt Squadron began rendering verses of an unknown traditional drinking song to your ears. You steal a look to only find Ireca and Mohash amidst a dance, tangled in each other's arms.

He eyes closely, noticing the turn of your lips, trained eyes deem melancholy. He knows the face of a loner very well—usually recruits with lost family and homes. They enlist in a mass community of freedom fighters for the restoration of good in the universe, and to finally feel a sense of familiarity and belonging. He doesn’t know much about you but he knows you don’t truly have anyone to depend on but yourself. It’s the reason why you’re constantly fierce.

Poe clears his throat, shifting closer to you as he watches the way you carry your gradual gaze to hold his. They then flit to the space between the two of you, raised eyebrows acknowledging the weird close proximity of his presence to yours.

“Look, you’re the best mechanic there ever was and probably ever will be. So, fix my ship, and you get to have this Corellian beauty. All of it.” He sways the bottle in the air, but you don’t look at it.

“You know, that’s bribery.”

“Yes, and it’s working.”

You scoff. “No, it isn’t.”

Poe laughs. “Yes, it is. I can see it in your eyes.”

Another scoff, you look fully aggravated. “How dense do you think I am?”

“Oh, very, but let’s not get into that.”

Bickering was the only language the two of you spoke fluently when you found yourselves tangled in a conversation with one another. Thrown insults were spoken lies—saying you hate each other when you know that isn’t true. Well, at least you don’t mean it and you hoped Poe didn’t either.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. For once, kindness and acceptance seem to be the easiest route.

A sigh passes your lips as you blink up to the ceiling, sending a silent prayer for blessings from the Maker above. “You’re right. I am dense. Truly dense. So, yeah. Okay. I’ll fix that stupid X-Wing of yours.”

Poe blinks, dumbfounded. “Wait, really?”

With a roll of your eyes, they meet his very own wide ones. “Yes, really. Only because you complimented me. Now, hand me that Corellian whiskey before I change my mind.”

He then makes a sound that resonates between a cough and a pleasantly surprised laugh, eyes crinkling with delight. Poe happily and absentmindedly passes the whiskey to you, still reacting like your agreement is some sort of object of ridicule in the best way possible.

“Wow—Maker, you have no idea what kind of trouble you’re saving me from. If the General ever found out—man, pfft. Thank you. Thank you so much—”

A swift and unexpected motion, he is reaching you, palms clasp and either side of your face, and plants a quick peck on the side of your left temple.

Poe isn’t thinking straight.

There you are, mid-swig, lips so close to the rim of the bottle with eyes so wide. You steal a steady glance at the pilot whose expression seems to reflect yours. His hands are still on your cheeks. He’s unbelievably close to you and he’s staring with that stupid look of his.

‘Maker, preserve me.’

A cheer erupts from the crowd from across the space and just like that, the moment is gone. Whatever the moment even was. His touch is no longer on yours and his gaze shifting away.

The tension, however, is still very present.

You finally take a swig of the whiskey, wanting to ease the sudden tightness in your chest. You hum at the stinging sensation on your tongue. You catch a glimpse of Poe from the corner of your eye who busies himself with tapping his fingers nervously against the surface of the bar.

Then, in an awkward motion, you stretch your arm to him, offering the drink.

A beat. His gaze shifts between you and your hand. When he finally gives in, a smile curves upon his lips, fingers brushing against yours. They’re delicate and you smile at him. It's small, but it makes his heart skip a beat and you wonder to yourself about the strangeness of love.

[jisungsmochi]

somebody to you - hrj

somebody to you - renjun

behold,, the FINAL part of my nct dream x the vamps songs series! leaving y’all with something really wholesome and fluffy bc i’m inlove with renjun 

word count: 2.8k 

summary: huang renjun didn’t like relationships. he thought they were messy, and honestly, a waste of time. he had his whole life ahead of him, so why would he need a significant other to be happy? that was all until he met you, and thought to himself, maybe it wouldn’t be all bad...

read the rest here! 

//

I used to wanna be

Living like there's only me

But now I spend my time

Thinking 'bout a way to get you off my mind

renjun scrolled through his endless instagram feed, swiping through threads of his friends with their girlfriends. he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him

borderline sick. he was always a realist, never really seeing the point of having a serious relationship at such a young age. in his life so far, he’d probably say he’s only had one girlfriend, and it was a random girl he asked to prom so he wouldn’t feel left out. renjun was never opposed to love, he just wasn’t actively seeking it.

“dude i reckon you’re gonna like her! she’s super cool from the sounds of it, and she goes to our university!” haechan insists as the four boys sat down for dinner in their shared apartment.

“i don’t need you to set me up on a blind date. i’m capable of finding someone on my own, thank you very much” renjun rolled his eyes, fed up with the continuous discussions of his single status.

“yeah, and how’s that going for you?” jaemin chimed in, causing jeno and haechan to chuckle in response. renjun just scoffed, shoving his mouth with more food to avoid speaking further.

“give it a chance. the worst that could happen is that you don’t vibe with her and you never talk to her again” jeno tries his best to convince the stubborn boy. renjun just shrugs, his mind contemplating the idea.

“okay fine, one date. if you guys really think she’s soo good for me, let’s see how accurate you guys are” renjun snickers. he was not confident in their matchmaking skills at all, but he loved seeing them fail.

“perfect, i’ll set it up for you. just sit back, relax and be your boring self” haechan grins, tapping away on his phone. renjun ignores the cheeky boy’s comments, finishing up his dinner. his first date in over two years, this should be good...

I used to be so tough

Never really gave enough

And then you caught my eye

Giving me the feeling of a lightning strike

renjun was regretting this date already. all he knew about you was your first name and your uni course, nothing else. the boys had refused to show him any photos of you, claiming that it would be more ‘romantic’ if he fell for you at first sight...what a cliche, he thought to himself.

“how will i even know it’s her, if i don’t know what she freaking looks like?” renjun groaned, nerves slowly building up as haechan pulled up to the date location.

“i’ll point her out, okay? just trust me” renjun let out a short sigh, hands slightly jittery. why the hell was he nervous? it wasn’t like he was going to see her after this one date.

as renjun stepped out of the car, his eyes scanned the scenery.

“jeez, you guys really went all out for this date” he was amazed by the view. it was a restaurant that was by the water, multiple little boats sailing across it and the sounds of birds humming.

“of course, you only deserve the best” haechan winked, eyes looking for renjun’s date.

“dude what if she doesn’t even show up. does she even know what i look like?” renjun was slightly panicking at this point, drifting from his tough exterior.

“haechan?” a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. renjun’s eyes diverted to the owner of the voice. he felt stunned by the sight of you, dressed neatly in some jeans and a flowery blouse. you had slightly curled your hair, hands clutching to your purse as you greeted the two boys infront of you.

“hey y/n, this is renjun, your date for tonight! see you kids later, don’t get up to anything crazy” haechan chuckled to himself, shoving renjun to meet you. renjun almost clashed into your smaller frame, catching you off guard. you gently held his arms, keeping a small distance between you both.

“o-oh my bad, i-i’m renjun” he stammered, eyes meeting yours. you were slightly blown away by his looks...he was really attractive. well done, haechan.

renjun would say the same about you. even though he didn’t have a particular type, (as he found it kind of dumb tbh) he believed you could fit it perfectly.

“i’m y/n! nice to meet you” you widely smiled, renjun returning your expression as he pulled out his hand for you to shake. maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Look at me now, I'm falling

I can't even talk, still stuttering

This ground I'm on, it keeps shaking

you were currently trying to hold back your laughter as renjun recounted the story of how he caught jaemin with his girlfriend...doing the nasty, during their first week of university.

“oh my goodness! were you scarred for life?” you slammed your fist on the table, causing others around you to glare. but renjun couldn’t even focus on them, attention solely on you.

“of course! it was the first week! like couldn’t they have just waited until midterms?” renjun chuckled at the memory, proud of himself that he made you laugh so much. he must be doing something right.

“you’re really funny, renjun. some of the other guys that haechan tried to set me up with were lowkey boring. i guess he sees me as boring too” you slightly frowned, watching as renjun piped up in his seat,

“y-you’re not boring at all! you’re funny! and pretty too” he muttered the last part, not wanting you to have heard. but you did. you decided not to linger on it much, afraid to make him too flustered.

“you’d be the first guy to say that” you shrugged, taking a small sip from your glass of water.

“have you had boyfriends in the past?” renjun suddenly asked, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“i-uh i’ve had a few. nothing too serious though, how about you?” you curiously ask in return, watching as renjun looked down to his lap. he hesitated before answering,

“i’ve only had one girlfriend before. i’m not really an avid dater” renjun admits to you, hoping that you didn’t find him lame.

“oh neither am i! we have another thing in common! i feel like relationships can get really difficult to manage, especially if you aren’t in the right headspace, you know?” you started rambling, renjun stringing along to your every word. he found such beauty in the way you articulated your words. he was so entranced he almost forgot to respond.

“i totally understand how you feel, i’ve always thought that i should live my life to the fullest before i consider settling down” he commented, causing you to nod along. you really liked his answers, it seemed like you were both on the same page about relationships. you didn’t expect to enjoy his company this much, initially agreeing to go on the date so that haechan would stop teasing you for not having a boyfriend in uni yet.

you walked alongside renjun, waiting for your roommate to pick you up.

“i had a really good time tonight, renjun. thankyou” you kindly complimented, causing renjun to become more shy (if that was even possible).

“no thankyou! there were times i felt kind of awkward, but you really know how to carry a conversation” he smiled, watching as you started to get shy.

“are you flirting with me, huang renjun?” you teased, nudging his arm gently.

“so what if i am?” he nudged you back,

“well i don’t think i’d want you to stop” you smirked. before renjun could say anything back, your heard the familiar voice of your roommate urging you to get in her car.

“oh that’s my ride. i have to get going. this was nice, i’ll see you around renjun!” you hurriedly embraced the boy, placing a gentle peck to his cheek before rushing to your roommate’s car.

renjun still didn’t say anything back to you, his body frozen from your touch.

‘no no no’ he thought to himself...he was falling for her.

All I wanna be, yeah, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah

Is somebody to you

Everybody's tryna be a billionaire

But every time I look at you, I just don't care

“so are you gonna tell us about the date or do we have to call and ask her instead?” haechan teased as the rest of the boys sat in their living room. renjun has a book in his hands, wanting nothing more than peace and quiet after his long night.

“gosh, will you let me finish this chapter?” renjun huffed, causing jaemin and jeno to snicker. haechan pulled out his phone, holding it to renjun’s face,

“oh would you look at that? it would be a shame for my finger to slip and dial y/n” before he could continue, renjun hurriedly tossed his book to the side, tackling the pestering boy onto the ground, holding him down firmly.

“holy shit, did you get stronger?“ haechan could barely speak, still in shock from the sudden attack. renjun slowly leans back, letting out a tired sigh.

“you two are ridiculous, let’s cut to the chase, did you like her or not?” jaemin rolled his eyes, ready to hear all the tea.

renjun looked from side to side, not liking all the attention that was on him.

“i-she was really cool. honestly yeah, i did like her. but i don’t think she’s looking for anything too serious at the moment” renjun shook his head, thinking back to your heated discussion about relationships.

“okay that sounds like a cop out excuse. i think you’re just scared” jeno chimed in, the two other boys nodding along. renjun glared at them, trying his best to maintain his composure.

“yeah, i mean, did anything happen aside from good conversation?” jaemin continued to push, renjun now becoming more reserved. of course he trusted his friends, but they never really openly spoke about their feelings like this, it was quite new to all of them.

“she kissed me on the cheek before she left, does that mean something?” renjun muttered, watching as haechan tips himself over, now laying on the ground.

“you’re an idiot, must we spell it out for you? she’s totally into you as well” jeno groaned in frustration.

truth was, renjun wasn’t sure how to properly ask someone out, nonetheless be in a proper relationship with them. he was in desperate need of help...but all he had were his three idiot friends.

“i know i don’t know her well and all, but after she left, i couldn’t stop thinking about her. is this what it’s like to fall for someone? oh god...i’m falling” renjun started rambling to himself, jaemin and jeno now rested against him, shoulder touching either of his.

“the answer is pretty clear, man. go for a second date! make the move, she might be thinking the exact same thing” jeno shrugged, trying his best to advise his friend, the best he could. renjun bidded, actually agreeing with jeno for once.

suddenly, renjun felt his phone ringing. he immediately picked it up without looking at the caller ID.

as if you were listening in on their conversation, your voice rang through renjun’s ear.

“hello? is this renjun?” you nervously stammered, waiting for a response. renjun was completely frozen, his mouth hung wide as jeno pressed his own ear closer to the phone.

“y-yes this is him” renjun finally spat out, hands slightly shaking.

“oh great, this is probably coming as a surprise to you. but i uh, wanted to know if you’d be interested in going on another date” you were able to finish, heart racing as you held the phone tightly. renjun felt his heart stop after your words, jeno shaking him gently to snap out of his daze.

“o-oh yeah, i’d be really interested” renjun replies, mentally face palming himself for sounding a little too eager.

“amazing, i’ll keep in touch” you smiled to yourself, trying your best to contain your excitement. eventually you hung up, screaming into your pillow, kicking your feet up and down. was this how it felt to actually like someone?

“there’s your chance, don’t blow it!” haechan teased, throwing a cushion over to renjun who was still frozen well after the call had ended.

‘holy shit’ he mumbled.

//

the date you had planned for renjun, involved attending the local food markets they held once a month. you thought it would be a social enough setting for conversation to not get too awkward, as well as enjoy a variety of food. renjun met you at the bus stop, dressed in baggy jeans and a blue wind runner jacket. his hair was slightly styled, some strands gelled back. it really accentuated his facial features, making you admire him even more than you did before.

“you look really good today, i mean, not like you don’t look good everyday i’m sure you do..” you shook your head at your rambling, wanting nothing more but for him to laugh it off. renjun just smirked at you, planning another witty comment to respond,

“not as good as you though” he gently guided you to walk with him, his hand travelling to the small of your back. you slightly froze at the contact, but aimlessly followed him. he surely had his way with words.

as you both tasted some amazing food, renjun found him standing quite close to you. if you were trying a sample, he would stand behind you, his chest touching your back occasionally. it seemed really natural to him, and you didn’t mind it at all. he would often touch your shoulder gently to grab your attention, or pull you along by your waist. it gave you massive butterflies that you could shake off.

“did you want to start heading home? we can walk to the bus stop together” renjun offered kindly, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you slowly made your way out of the large crowd. just as you were about to respond, rain started sprinkling from the sky. renjun quickly moved you to stand under some shelter as the rain came pouring.

“how the hell are we meant to walk in this?” you half shouted, clutching onto renjun’s side. he couldn’t bear moving you away from him,

“let’s just run, we can’t wait for it to pass” he suddenly took your hand, pulling you along as he bolted to the nearest bus stop.

“you’re so crazy, renjun!” you shout at the boy, giggling at the entire situation. before you knew it, renjun span you around, pulling you close to his chest.

“the only thing i’m crazy about is you” he confessed, catching you completely off guard. he had a habit of making such flirty comments, but this time you felt he wasn’t trying to joke around.

“w-what?” rain was washing over the both of you, your clothes completely soaked at this point.

“i really like you, y/n. i really freaking do. i didn’t want to admit it at first because i was scared of the idea of dating. but i want to be with you. i want to be somebody to you. everyone is out here trying to settle down and start their lives, but i feel like with you we can go at a steady pace. i don’t want to rush things, incase it gets messy, and difficult. but i just needed you to know that i really like you, and i hope it’s not all in my head that you like me back” renjun firmly confessed to you, eyes never leaving yours. you slowly raised your hand to wipe some rain drops off his face, watching as he smiled into your touch. he held you tightly in his arms, awaiting your response.

“renjun, i think i made it really clear that i like you back. i was also nervous about how you’d react, considering you weren’t really looking for anything serious at first. i think we should give it a shot, we can worry about all the stress and possible fights later on. all i know is that right now, you’re the only person i want to be standing in the rain with. now can you please kiss me?” you couldn’t contain your smile as renjun leaned into you. his lips pressing gently against yours. your fingers now running through his wet hair as he held your waist firmly. the kiss started getting deeper, the atmosphere really playing into the romantic nature of it all. eventually you both pulled away, foreheads presses against eachother, softly giggling.

that was the beginning of your relationship with renjun. despite having ups and downs (as expected) you both persevered and tried your absolute hardest to make things work. renjun finally admitted to himself: falling inlove wasn’t so bad...especially when it was with the right person.

[quietpoeticheart]

The Coffee Shop: Part Four: Part One

Summary: Bucky is a retired military veteran suffering from PTSD. He meets Avelyn, a headstrong entrepreneur, one day at her cafe with Steve and then everything changes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black! OC

Word Count: 1.7k+

Warnings: None

A/N: This is just a brief little fluffy filler which is half of the original chapter 4 that I couldn't finish because I just finished school exams and I'm probably going back to school just now despite Covid-19 so I haven't had much time to write. The next half of chapter 4 should be up in a week hopefully and it'll be a whole lot more interesting than this

PREVIOUS PART

Later that evening, an hour before closing, while Avelyn was taking a nap, she heard the bell for the shop go off and a knock at the door because she wasn't stupid to leave the door open. It was New York after all, she'd get robbed or worse kidnapped, not like her mother would mind if it happened.

"I'm coming." She yelled walking towards it. As she unlocked the door, a familiar figure bounded inside. "Were you sleeping on the job?" Morgan said.

Avelyn shrugged, "I'm my own boss. Why are you here?"

"I said I'd pick you up." Morgan stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah at nine. Its five."

"Well its nine somewhere, plus I remembered that I can't trust you to get ready on your own." Morgan wasn't lying, if left up to her, she'd go to the club in a pair of jeans. She was really over her socialite days but Morgan didn't exactly care, if Avelyn was going out with her, she'd look damn good.

Avelyn was grateful to have a best friend that cared about her wellbeing as much as Morgan did but at the same time, it did get a little frustrating and tiring because Morgan was pretty high maintenance at times.

"Fine, just lemme close up."

"Oh, so this is what it looks like when it's open, could've fooled me."

Avelyn rolled her eyes, "You're lucky I love you." As she moved behind the counter to organize her stuff, Morgan took a seat at the same stool Bucky was on earlier.

"So what are we gonna do about lover boy?"

Avelyn's eyes widened in panic, there was no way in hell she was letting Morgan get involved. She'd scare the boy off because the Starks weren't exactly known for being the most subtle people ever.

"There's no we in this Morgs unless you're speaking French."

Morgan glared at her, "Avelyn, you gotta stop shutting me out like this. All I ever do is try to help you and you just push me away. You've gotten away with the excuse of being busy with the shop for too long now, when the truth is, you're just like Bucky, everytime someone tries to care for you, you push them away and I'm getting tired of it."

As much as it stung to hear, Avelyn knew what Morgan was the truth. She felt like a hypocrite really, judging Bucky for the same thing she'd been doing for over a year.

Avelyn sighed, "I'm sorry Morgan. You're right, I shouldn't push you away like that. It's just hard with everything that's happened."

"Lynn, we've been friends for almost our entire lives. I know you better than you know you, it shouldn't be hard. Instead of  making excuses, take accountability."

"I hate it when you're right." Avelyn said. Morgan rolled her eyes, "Ever since we met, I've always been right."

Avelyn thought back to the day when she first met Morgan.

It was the first day at her new kindergarten and Avelyn was incredibly nervous to be going to a new school. At school, she was called up to the front of the class by her teacher Ms. Birch to introduce herself.

"Hi, I'm Avelyn." That's all she could manage to get out in front the class. Ms. Birch had smiled gently at her and pointed to the only free seat, a red chair next to a pretty brown haired girl, "Go sit by Morgan."

Avelyn clutched her yellow backpack to her chest and reluctantly took the seat next to Morgan.

Morgan had smiled widely at her, "You were scared, weren't you?"

Avelyn nodded. Morgan was surprisingly articulate for her age but you couldn't expect less from the daughter of one of the smartest men in the world

"You don't speak much, do you?" Morgan asked.

Avelyn nodded again. To her, Morgan was intimidating, she was bold enough to start a conversation with someone she didn't even know. Oh, how she wished she could be like her.

"Well I talk enough for the both of us." She said, extending her hand, "I'm Morgan Stark and you are?"

"Avelyn Forsythe." Avelyn shyly took her hand and shook it.

"I think you and I are going to be great friends Avelyn Forsythe."

After that day, Avelyn and Morgan were practically inseparable. Her mother had been excited when she found out that Avelyn had made a friend, until she found out whose daughter Morgan was.

When she did, she tried everything to break up the friendship but the bond formed that day was inseparable and while Ava wasn't pleased, she ignored the friendship and avoided all unnecessary interaction with Morgan and after several very uncomfortable encounters at her house, Avelyn decided that it'd be best if she went to the Starks instead of letting Morgan come over.

Tony and Pepper, on the contrary were excited that Morgan had made a friend, because most of the other children were scared of her. Morgan had a tough shell but underneath that exterior, she was a total softie but most people didn't stick around long enough to find that out but Avelyn did and over the years, the Starks began to regard Avelyn as their own child, even letting her call them mom and dad.

When her own parents weren't there for her, Tony and Pepper were. For every fight with her parents and school dance, for her first date, boyfriend and heartbreak, for every birthday and Christmas, for every single event in her life, the Starks were there. Ava and Adam might have been her biological parents but Tony and Pepper were the ones who raised her into the woman she was.

"You're thinking about it too aren't you?" Morgan asked.

"About what?"

"The day we first met."

Avelyn had to admit that Morgan's sense of perception was annoyingly uncanny, "Yeah, I am. How'd you know?"

"Because I was thinking about it too." Morgan's voice was wistful and longing and in that moment, the air was thick with nostalgia. The memories of childhood innocence and naivete, of the happier days before the heartbreak and pain swirling around them and for the first time in a while, the coffee shop didn't seem so gray.

It was like the cloud of hopelessness and broken dreams surrounding the place had been lifted and Avelyn felt something in her chest, that hadn't been there in a while: the joy and hope she'd had the day she'd signed on the line to buy the shop.

The moment left as quickly as it came but Avelyn knew that something had changed.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled at Morgan, "Let's get out of here, we got a club that's calling our name."

"Now, that's the spirit Lynn." Morgan clapped her hands excitedly.

When Avelyn stepped around the counter, Morgan wrapped her hand in hers and began pulling her towards the door and despite all the craziness of the world, right then and there, it was like she and Morgan, were just two little kids running hand in hand on the playground, like they used to years ago.

"Thank you."

"Always."

When Morgan parked the Porsche in her driveway, Avelyn had never been more happy to get the hell out of a car. Morgan, just like her father drove like a maniac, she was pretty sure they'd committed at least fifteen driving offenses. The fact that they hadn't been pulled over was nothing short of a miracle.

"Now I remember why I don't get into cars with you." Avelyn gasped clutching her hand to her chest.

"Don't be such a baby Lynnie." Morgan rolled her eyes.

"I'm not a baby Morgs, you're just crazy."

Too caught up in their argument, they didn't even realise that Tony was walking towards them.

"Well, I see my car made it back in one piece."

Morgan shrugged, "I learnt to drive from you daddy."

"Which is exactly why I'm scared. Avelyn looks like you nearly killed her." Tony said taking in Avelyn's shaking form.

"Dad, I'm telling you she's a psychopath." Avelyn wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Tony smiled as he held her, "I missed you around here kiddo."

"I missed you guys too." In Tony's familiar arms, she felt at ease.

"Then maybe you should come round more often, you've always been my favorite child." Tony teased.

"Hey!" Morgan objected.

"I'm just joking Morgan, I love you both equally. Now why don't you kids run in and see your mom."

Walking into the Stark mansion was like coming home. The walls were covered in pictures of Tony, Pepper, Morgan and her, unlike her house where if you didn't know that Forsythes had a fifth child, no one would know about Avelyn.

As they walked towards the stairs, they heard the familiar clack of heels on the marble tiles and turned to see Pepper running towards them.

"Lynnie it's so good to see you again, I've missed you." Pepper squealed pulling Avelyn into a hug.

"I missed you too mom."

"How's the shop going?"

"Its honestly a mess." Morgan piped up. Avelyn turned and glared at her. Morgan shrugged innocently, "I'm just being honest."

"I wish you'd let us help you. We're more than willing." Pepper said gently.

Avelyn sighed, maybe it was time she put aside her pride and take the offer because if she didn't start making money soon, she'd lose the shop.

"I'll think about it, I promise."

Pepper smiled, "Good, do you girls want snacks or anything?"

Morgan rolled her eyes, "Mom, we're twenty six and going drinking, we do not need snacks."

"Lynn just make sure that she eats something. You know how she gets when she gets drunk on an empty stomach." Tony says walking into the room and pulling Pepper into a hug.

After holding back Morgan's hair in various club bathrooms for years and putting up with the crying and the extreme hangovers, Avelyn knew better and she mouthed a yes to Tony over Morgan's protests.

The familiarity of going out with her friends and just being back here with her family made Avelyn the happiest that she'd been in so long and internally she committed herself to having fun tonight because she deserved it. She swore not to think about her family or the shop or even Bucky but just to let loose and enjoy her first night out in over a year.

—————————

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and my taglist is open if anyone wants to be tagged for this story or all of my fics.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

I Am Not Living, I Am Surviving Hug Me Michael x Reader

Warnings: this theme deals with depression and thoughts of suicide which could be triggering for some.

A/N: as someone that deals with depression I felt compelled to post this. Michael helps Y/N during her depressive episode, the reader (much like me tends to shut people out especially when things get difficult so I feel this on a personal level). Hope you guys take the time to read this as it is kinda personal for me, thanks guys and please let me know what you think. Note the lyrics used are from Britta Phillips version of the song Drive

//who's gonna tell you when

it's too late

who's gonna tell you things

aren't so great

you can't go on

thinking nothing's wrong

who's gonna drive you home tonight//

I was not alone, that there was someone somewhere who was able to articulate the seething, jumbled, brutal, pre-linguistic, thrashing, writhing, hazing, dulling pounding in my head. It wasn't just me. That single thought was the most important thing in the world to me, sometimes the one thing that kept me alive – a single false note of optimism would have shattered it all for me, left me thinking yes, it really is just me – the words people offer me really are just that, words, the hope they contain utterly irrelevant because they relate to an experience that is not mine.

‘I put on a brave front' it had been so easy to hide how I truly felt, laugh, joke act like I was completely fine. But truth was I knew deep down inside I wasn't masking it would only work for so long. I was rapidly sliding deeper and deeper into a very dark space. My symptoms got worse and soon I found it too difficult to even get up and out of bed in the morning.

‘You feel nothing. You shut down completely. There is no happiness, no sadness, nothing. You feel zero.’ Depression is not something that can be brushed away with a smile, or shooed away with a pat on the back. It’s something more deeper and profound. There’s no gadget to test which person is suffering from what type of depression, and there’s no instrument to measure the extent of depression.

Statistics say that as many as 1 in 4 of us will experience a mental health problem at some point in our lives. That means you know someone—probably several someones—with depression, anxiety, an eating disorder or something else. Isolation can have a crushing effect on a lot of people. Some people thrive on it, but humans on the whole are a social bunch and need to interact with others. When that isn’t possible, it’s easy to feel that the walls are closing in. But honestly all I was good at doing is pushing people away, I am afraid if they get to close if they see really see what I am going through that they might abandon me because it may end up being way too much for them.

I kept a diary somehow it felt safer to write down my thoughts, the one person I should be honest with is Michael but I honestly couldn't bring myself to do it. Would he be hurt? Would he hate me? So many thoughts in the back of my mind I pushed them away. I scribbled furiously in the journal and tossing it aside. Normally I hid it under a loose floorboard in our bedroom but on this night not giving it so much as a second thought I feel asleep journal wide open. Y/N didn't hear Michael when he walked in, he looked at you you were fast asleep. He noticed the leather bound book that laid open by your sleeping form. He didn't want to invade your privacy but something alerted him that something was on deed wrong. He looked at the small paragraph scrawled on the page, his face froze in fear at the words before him.

Dear Michael.

I've been thinking about ending my life. I don't know why I can't talk to you in person, so I bought this Diary in the case that I do end up killing myself you will know why I did what I did and that you cannot blame yourself. Michael you are the reason I am still here. for now. But the voices in my head are so strong and the pain that it is inflicting on me everyday, one more thing and I feel like I won't be able to hold on, but I will for you Michael  I will try my best for you.

Yours Truly,

Y/F/N Y/L/N

Depression is a hole and I'm slowly falling in trying to claw out and everyone I love is just standing there watching. Honestly I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep 'acting’ like I was ok when deep down inside I wanted to end it, quiet the voices leave the pain behind that quite frankly I felt like I was drowning in.

I opened my eyes I don't know how long I had been asleep or even what time it was. I looked to see Michael's concerned expression his piercing blue eyes felt like they had penetrated my soul. There my journal sat in his lap, Michael let out a breath attempting to steady himself. “Why won't you talk to me Y/N, tell me that something was wrong?” I couldn't even open up my mouth to speak it was like I lost all nerve to even respond. My first instinct was to bolt, I sat up quickly turning my body away from him. I wasn't able to even make it to the edge of the bed, Michael grabbed my arm “Y/N please talk to me don't shut me out!”

Michael's breathing started to get heavier as his eyes started to well up. Y/N  looked at Michael, saying nothing. He wondered what she was thinking. Finally, after a few moments, she started sobbing, and she leaned into him. Michael immediately pulled her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder, and struggling not to cry himself. ‘I was tired of feeling helpless. I had to do something, anything.’ ‘I remember that exact moment as the one where I started to feel good about myself again, I just wish it could've lasted longer…

There was another moment of silence, this one longer than the last, "I tried to tell myself that you'd get better, that you would get back to normal  but the truth is I didn't know that. I didn't know if you'd get better, you can't keep doing this to yourself Y/N, what if I never see you again! And the thought of everyone else just going on with their lives made me sick! So yeah,I am angry, and I am scared…  I didn't know what the fuck I am supposed to do!" Michael's voice finally broke as tears streamed down his face. Y/N, with tears in her own eyes, finally stood up. She pressed her forehead against Michael's and placed her hands on the sides of his head. ‘But most of all, I knew, come what may, I had at least one safe harbor.’ I looked up at Michael the look was unmistakable.

‘I'll never forget what I saw at that moment, looking into Michael's eyes.’

‘He loved me. This sweet, perfect man… loved me.’

After staring at him for another moment that seemed to last forever, she finally leaned in and kissed him. He quickly began kissing her back. The two of them continued this until it started to grow more heated, with the two of them running their hands over each other, and Michael kissing along the side of her neck.

He pulled back after a minute and looked at her.

"Are you… are you sure this is okay?" he asked, breathing heavily.

Y/N gave Michael a smile.

"I'm sure," I  said.

‘That wasn't entirely true. I wasn't sure, or rather I wasn't sure if I was sure.but I didn't know if that made a difference. I knew I wanted it to be okay this time.’

The two of them resumed, even more passionately this time. They began removing clothes and letting their hands roam over more of more of each other…

‘More than anything, I wanted it to be okay this time. I remember thinking, please, please, let it be okay this time.’

Michael continued kissing Y/N, who leaned her head back as the feelings came over her…

‘But it wasn't okay’

I inhaled sharply…

‘It was perfect.’

2 weeks later…

"How is Y/N?" Gallant ask, suddenly looking at Michael with concern on his  face.

Michael hesitated. He  came here to help Gallant with an issue with his salon , not unload his  own worries onto him. Still, lying to him didn't feel right either.

"I don't know, really," Michael  finally said. "She just doesn't seem to want to open up. I know she's been having a really hard time." Michael gave Gallant  a slight smile. “I think it's just going to take time.” Gallant responded softly.

‘The day were getting... bearable.’

‘So were the days after that, and the next after that.’

‘Michael found me a new doctor. A bit further away, but worth the trip. I was able to open up to her a little.’

‘Still, I couldn't shake this feeling that there was something I was supposed to do, but at first, I couldn't figure out what it was.’

‘But gradually I started to notice something…’

‘...something I couldn't shake once I noticed them.,

‘The signs.’

‘The ones most people didn't see. The ones no one saw in me until it was almost too late.’

Michael  wiped one last tear rolling down his face and closed his eyes.

“Please live for me Y/N," he said, softly. “Stay with me, I love you."

Y/N sighed in relief.

‘All I could do after that was live.’

Michael pulled me close to him tightly I could hear his heartbeat, a steady reminder to live

//Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.//

Mahatma Gandhi

[canmom]

i caught up with bocchi e8 (the big turning point in the narrative arc) so I can finally read this post. (also, for anyone else who's wondering, the @centrally-unplanned post it's referring to is here.)

kb your analysis is precise and thoughtful (as ever!). the broader synthesis is a nice complement to the very credits and techniques-focused sakugablog writeup. I want to write something a bit more substantial about bocchi than I did yesterday, and this seems like a good place to jump in. This segment being the key part:

Both musically and socially, Bocchi's character development, in this metaphor, is just cashing in on skills and traits she already has. There's a happy Bocchi with fulfilling social relationships ready to be actualized the same way that there's a baller fucking lead guitarist waiting to kick ass. Something something "SHOUJO YO, SHINWA (GUITAR HERO) NI NARE!"

That sounds kinda weak. Like really? Her problem is that she's already awesome and just needs to show it to the world? But people who identify with Bocchi love the show, and they seem to love it in a similar way to how they loved Watamote.

Just what do people want from representation anyway?

Is it really as simple as being able to point to a character and say "SHE'S JUST LIKE ME FR FR?" I mean, maybe. Obviously the answer is "different things, different people," but that's just as obviously a non-answer to get around the fact that I don't even understand why I've felt the way I do about different people and characters at different points in my life. In my case it's not social anxiety, but the contours of the problem are obvious in any context.

I feel like this inspires some thoughts, but they're not entirely cemented until I start writing them down, so if you'll forgive a slightly meandering post...

This question about "representation" is a worthwhile one, especially since in the current era it's treated as the overriding value of fiction. Usually in the kind of weak criticism that Ash was talking about, it's parsed in terms of some kind of label or trait: this character is trans/autistic/butch/whatever and the star of the show ergo, good work. I've gotten tired of this kind of way of approaching 'trans rep' but apparently I'm all too happy to write words like 'autistic girl mood' when attempting to articulate the appeal of this show so, welp. There's probably grounds for such a framing - she dislikes making eye contact, she has intense special interests, blah blah, closes DSMV with a snap - but...

...but rather than capturing the specific experience of a specific demographic, Bocchi's experiences in the show are exaggerations of circumstances that probably the majority of people have felt. For example, in episode 7, entering a room in which people are having a good time in a way you're not really accustomed to, and not feeling sufficiently confident to smoothly insert yourself... that is probably one of the basic problems of being a social creature isn't it? It's a skill you have to learn and it will come back to haunt you every time your confidence has taken some knocks. The degree may vary, but it's not exactly an experience that only socially anxious/autistic/etc. girls ever experience, even if it's particularly associated with that label.

Then, apply extreme exaggeration and visual humour - which is just getting more complex with elaborate pastiches of 90s anime and nausicaa and etc. - turns it into a symbol, so if you have any social anxiety at all you probably can get a bit #relatable from Bocchi. Indeed, probably many people I see as enviably confident and social will look at Bocchi and think 'mood'.

(Also as an aside - Bocchi's parents fucking suck lol. No wonder she's like this if they bully her for bringing friends over.)

Probably a big part of the value of turning into a drama like this is it gives you a way to view these problems externally with a bit of distance and humour without the cringe vulnerability of actually spelling it out to another person. Bocchi's world is a pretty comforting fantasy - as you observe, she really does have the potential to be both a skilled musician and a valued friend. Her lyrics are more appealing when she writes what's in her heart than attempting to appeal to what she thinks is popular. Her friends do find her foibles charming rather than annoying.

And there's likely some truth in all that, it's probably a message worth receiving, for people who are poised to assume the opposite. People are shockingly bad at knowing what other people are thinking about them and frequently poised to assume the worst, so a 'best case' scenario is worth presenting. The tricky part is getting around the "well, bully for her!" feeling of resentment.

I think in a way the show talks about its own function, in the segment where Bocchi is writing lyrics. She's put off by overly positive songs about happiness and success. When she writes lyrics, she first assumes she should write a fairly generically encouraging song (although as usual, anime highschooler hypercompetence applies - I don't imagine a lot of real kids Bocchi's age could )...

Official subs (not sure exact source, I assume crunchyroll) render this...

Can't do it anymore You say as you give up on moving forward On a road that seems to go on forever It feels like you'll never arrive anywhere And that's got you worried, doesn't it?

But hey now, listen up Don't forget you're not alone, that we're all here We're sending you this cheer just as your heart's about to break

Your dreams will come true Don't give up until the very end! Your dreams will come true Believe in yourself the way you are Believe in yourself and get walking again!

Glory awaits you ahead, I know it For everyone around the world trying hard, <Go for it!>

Ryo persuades her she'd be better off writing the 'bitter, social-outcast lyrics' that she naturally wants to write, ([根からて]どんよりな歌詞 is my best guess but i'm really struggling with that first word) because...

Warning, the memesubs have breached containment.

But later more sincerely, she says to write them because even if they pass most of the audience by, they'll mean a lot more to the few specific people they do 'hit'.

Is that what Bocchi is doing, though?

"Character at the start of career overcomes difficulty and succeeds by dint of pluck and offscreen hard work" is a pretty standard anime plot, especially for a music anime. I find it charming when done well, but it can easily feel like a sentimental cliché. Much as Bocchi needs to write lyrics relatable to someone in her particular situation, if it's going to sell us on such a plot, Bocchi the Rock has to convince us that Bocchi really is struggling as much as (we feel) we are. And that's where the creative humour comes in to really underline that point.

Now, having hopefully determined that the setup is fully loaded, we fire the payoff where Bocchi starts to break out of her shell, her secret gets out, etc. etc. Not sure what they'll do in the remaining four episodes of the season (episode 9 just came out so I guess I'll find out soon) - this is one of the toughest parts to write through, where you've resolved the first main conflict. Perhaps we'll take a minute to focus on the other characters, perhaps Bocchi will snap back to old ways? Idk, regardless...

Watching episode 8 of Bocchi - well, perhaps I was just attuned to this by reading kVin's comments on storyboarding, but I was really conscious of how it was constructed. We establish a conflict: there's a typhoon so turnout is low, and the girls are discouraged, so they perform badly. It's hard to tell from actually listening to the music whether the girls are supposed to be doing well or badly (for me anyway), so in addition to the character animation doing its level best to sell their mental state, we establish a few indicators: the expressions of Nijika's sister and the comments of the two NPCs at the back of the hall who have never heard of Kesshoku Band, and in case that's not enough, Bocchi's voiceover tells you what to look at. All clear setup.

Despite this, or perhaps because of all this setting up a tension, when Bocchi's moment comes, it does feel great. Then we have the extended dénouement at the izakaya to cement the transformation we've seen. (I could apply the kishōtenketsu template here but it's probably obvious.)

(Now I'm kind of thinking - if the show has sort of asked us to think about how people relate to fiction, if the increasing number of genre-pastiche jokes where the visual style changes then draw extra attention to dramatic conventions, where will it take it?)

Anyway, returning to 'representation' - I kind of think anime girls in these shows exist as a kind of asymptotic extension of experiences. Combine that with the otaku 'database' thing where a character exists as an instantiation of traits, and it's like, ok, this character has an intense niche passion for x, which is most effective if you like x (for me that means Eizouken is the ideal form of this sort of anime) but more generally if you have any sort of intense niche passion, it hits a point of connection.

So what you get is... it isn't exactly that Bocchi is like me (I am not a Japanese highschooler with pink hair and a passion for rock music - shocking admissions, I know), but that she's an extreme and readily parsible iteration of both quite common but strongly felt and more niche sets of feelings, and then by setting up the affective link - "yes, you get it, that's exactly how it is mr. clover works" you can roll out the narrative arc, so you get to, ok, here's some vicarious relief from that struggle. now go get em tiger etc.

I guess at this point I've just made it sound like a more subtle version of a Disney-renaissance film, with its "I want" songs whose yearnings are all neatly resolved by the end with the happy hetero couple embracing. Or a Facebook cartoon about having a cat or some shit. Those Disney films ring hollow, of course, and a more modern cartoon attempts to draw a character whose conflicts are a bit more substantial. And, to be fair, all I've really described is having a narrative conflict and resolving it, stuff that's pretty universal.

What would an alternative be? How to drop that arc altogether?

You mention WataMote, but I haven't seen that so can't common rip. Instead I think of a prompt-driven webcomic called Prequel, which at least in its early arcs (I haven't read that far in) presents a character who really does just fail at every turn. And it's kind of brutal to read. That might be what a less hopeful Bocchi would come across like; but it would be too 'relatable', perhaps, because well, that's how it already is, or rather, how it feels like it might be. There exists a desire to be told it's not as futile as all that, and that's what Bocchi serves. There's enough overlap between various kinds of social difficulty that you can read into her whatever your brain stuff is, but still with a hint of aspirational relief.

At this point it probably sounds like I'm trying to dismiss Bocchi and I'm really not >< Honestly, it is a relief to watch these stories which both speak in an idiom I recognise, and can tell me that things could turn out kinda OK, even if it's really absurd like Pompo the Cinéphile. (I remember watching that and turning to @schizsune and us both going 'I love anime'). A lot of anime turns on making things, learning a craft, getting good at something, and that's the way I want to imagine myself, on a course to becoming a confident artist who has something worthwhile to say, even if it seems increasingly hard to see it as true. Perhaps somehow the combination of a familiar 'want' with a type of distance (it's in another language, the characters are drawings not actors) makes it easier to find that narrative in anime than other media? Hmm. I think of something that @iridescent-mud-dauber wrote in a story once:

I can see the appeal, it’s easier to ignore the brainwash and cultural baggage that something is soaked in if it’s not the brainwash and culture that you’re used to seeing. It’s novel.

Back to Bocchi...

Kesshoku Band worry a lot about being 'band-like'. They're attempting to step into a certain prescribed social role, sold to them via sites like Instagram - sorry, Isstagram - and they're doing their best to sell it in turn. As such we glimpse the idea of 'a band' rippling along the human substrate and evolving. If that sounds somewhat dismissive and above it all, I could equally say the same of 'webgen animator' or 'sakuga fan'. Each of these cultural practices holds a promise - it is a site to build connections with people and break through the general atomisation. In this period of capitalism, and perhaps many other times in history I would not know, that is how you are supposed to construct yourself.

So will Bocchi rest here, and continue to tell of Bocchi coming out of her shell and succeeding at music? Or will it try and drive further? Is the loneliness that drives Bocchi still waiting the minute she steps out the door? Will the encouragement via parasocial bonds she's just starting to discover start to mean less and less, while criticism remains just as devastating? Will she start more and more desperately chasing that 'high' of being with people, and will it turn out that she loses that sense of confidence right when she thinks she's finally cracked it? Will it turn out that having fans in a stadium means about as much as having a big following on youtube to answer her struggle with depression? If the Bocchi can capture that set of feelings, or some other spin beyond 'Kesshoku Band are duly rewarded with success and fame', it really will be interesting.

Anyway probably a lot of Bocchi's success just comes down to like... craft stuff. You could easily imagine an anime with the same premise and structure that sucks, but visual inventiveness, expressive and consistent character animation, a strong sense of cohesion and confidence in its creation... it all comes together instead. A simple concept done well, rather than a complex concept done poorly - that's enough!

In the end, I'm not sure I said anything that wasn't there more succinctly in the original post. But whoops, that's hedging. Like Bocchi might. Ha. Thanks for reading ><

@centrally-unplanned wrote earlier that Bocchi isn't really thematically complex, and that seems fair on the balance, but there are a few things I'd note.

Courtesy Read More:

(but first here's a bocchi so this post doesn't show up as just one (1) paragraph of text on your dash)

The first episode makes a big point of the fact that even though Bocchi is an accomplished guitarist with a fanbase under her guitarhero activities, this doesn't translate to immediately being a great guitarist in the context of a band. A criticism I hear sometimes of anime like Carole & Tuesday is that they're immediately able to collaborate fruitfully (read: not suck) in a way that could never fucking happen. Bocchi sets up a dynamic where to flourish musically is to flourish socially, and in a way which has a hard, grit basis in the firmament of reality. Score one for Bocchi, but this fades into the background pretty quickly.

-but not entirely, and not forever. The idea returns in EP06 with the street performance. Bocchi notices (and tells the audience) that Hiroi's bass provides a firm basis for Bocchi to play however she feels. Hiroi, being a Touhou oni, is a very open, honest person with a good heart and no social inhibition. It's a joke that her proposition to Bocchi to play a duet sounds like a proposition to make love, but it's part and parcel of how "naked" she is in general. As Kyouray points out, Hiroi is subtly erotic. This is about as supportive a musical relationship as Bocchi has in the whole show to that point, and she manages a breakthrough of a sort as a result. I guess only an otaku would make the idea of physical intimacy a signifier of a social safe space. This is why anime rules btw.

It's a lot weirder than that though. When Bocchi is preparing for the concert, it intercuts with the rest of Kessoku Band (which I will not be abbreviating as KB) talking about how Bocchi has no friends because she's so damn shy and unapprochable – "but Bocchi's so fun!" It's true: Bocchi has a funny, kind, distinct personality under those pink bangs – the same way that Bocchi also happens to already be a crazy good guitarist. Both musically and socially, Bocchi's character development, in this metaphor, is just cashing in on skills and traits she already has. There's a happy Bocchi with fulfilling social relationships ready to be actualized the same way that there's a baller fucking lead guitarist waiting to kick ass. Something something "SHOUJO YO, SHINWA (GUITAR HERO) NI NARE!"

That sounds kinda weak. Like really? Her problem is that she's already awesome and just needs to show it to the world? But people who identify with Bocchi love the show, and they seem to love it in a similar way to how they loved Watamote. That's interesting, because Kuroki in the beginning and through the part of the manga which the anime adapts has jack shit going for her – I mean nothing. She's sorta the anti-Bocchi. I don't say this because I think one of these is the right approach and the other is wrong, but because maybe thinking about this fact will get us closer to the ultimate question:

Just what do people want from representation anyway?

Is it really as simple as being able to point to a character and say "SHE'S JUST LIKE ME FR FR?" I mean, maybe. Obviously the answer is "different things, different people," but that's just as obviously a non-answer to get around the fact that I don't even understand why I've felt the way I do about different people and characters at different points in my life. In my case it's not social anxiety, but the contours of the problem are obvious in any context.

In EP08, Bocchi does actually "become the legend (guitar hero)" and provides the rest of Kessoku Band with a charismatic lead to follow so they don't tank their first concert. Again, this is the fungibility of musical capital with social: Bocchi is able to bring her guitar skills to bear to solve the musical problem (not sucking) with its social basis (everyone is terrified and no one has both the musical skill and personality to do something about it). By doing so, her identity as guitarhero becomes obvious to anyone who knows her work – especially Nijika.

In their conversation outside the izakaya, Bocchi frames it in super literal terms: she doesn't see herself as a "hero" and didn't want to tell anyone until she gets her shit together – especially because Nijika respects "guitarhero" so much. On the other hand, Nijika thinks that Bocchi is the key to everyone's desires for the band, musically, which Bocchi will solve socially – and one may infer that as a result the band will become better friends. As may be seen, Nijika is secretly the most unhinged of them all. I think we should understand her having come to this conclusion after the concert, but I think we should also understand Nijika having already pegged "guitarhero" as the sort of person who could make her dreams come true. This hints at the idea of a parasocial musical relationship, which isn't that odd to me. My kamioshi is Pomu Rainpuff. I can claim to know some things about her as a person, but I also feel like there are some things about her as a performer that I get in a way which I wouldn't if I didn't do live programming myself.

In this way, everyone's naïve expectations at the start of the show turn out to be 100% correct. Learning guitar really did let Bocchi connect and become popular. Not only that, but she's positioned as an almost messianic figure whose destiny it is to bring about the hopes of every member of Kessoku Band. The girls have dreamt it – so it shall be! The key to self-improvement is the right mix of chuunibyou and special interests. This moral is unironically based.

It's worth noting that Bocchi's music is what attracted Kita too, but also that she derives some of her own strength from the two fans she made at the street concert. I think it's the least surprising thing in the world to say fandom of a musician can be a sort of parasocial relationship, and in this case Bocchi has a parasocial relation with them in turn – deriving some small amount of strength from their existence and their support, which obviously has a real basis but is necessarily partly extrapolated. This isn't really that interesting or novel, but it fits into the mesh.

Unrelatedly, director Saitou said this in an interview translated on sakugablog:

That's another thing this anime is good at. It reminds me of the very strange but interesting episode of K-ON!! where Mugi is low key jealous of the physicality that Mio and Ritsu have, and that Yui just sorta asserts through her lack of inhibition. Houkago Tea Time are all very close, but there are different kinds of closeness.

I had more to say, but I should probably go to bed.

[noodleswithsoba-blog]

A Silver Whirlwind Chapter 3: Midnight Eyes and Starry Eyes.

The S.S Kengan, a luxury liner! A massive palace for the war-weary fighters of the Kengan Annihilation tournament. But, for young Ichiban Tokita, a place for relaxation. Chiba was proud of his young protege. Yoshiro was practically aglow with joy. Yet…

Ichiban had never seen so many fancy things all in one place. He was quietly shocked, hovering near his master's side and looking out at all the people in fancy suits and ties and pretty dresses that he didn't get. He was wearing one of those suits and hated how much it constricted his movement. It was sharp and white, but he didn't like it. Why were the dresses so skimpy? Why was everyone treating this like it was normal?! The room was MASSIVE. He'd never seen the crystal chandeliers or the spread of food from all over the world. He didn't feel hungry at all.

"Oh? I see you're a little shell-shocked, don't worry!" Yoshiro dismissed, "Just let it all flow,"

"Flow?" Ichiban asked, "Like… my style?"

"If you'd like to think of it like that," Chiba commented, "Just follow my lead," Ichiban nodded, seeing so many things he'd never would if he stayed with Ohma. Either that or he would just not be as strong as he was now. Chiba noticed his student's discomfort and tapped him on the shoulder.

Ichiban dropped into his stance, "Whoa! It's just me, Ichiban, calm down," Chiba soothed, "How about you go outside and get some fresh air?" he suggested. Ichiban nodded and left the overly-opulent room, going out to the balmy veranda with a sigh of relief. He sighed and looked out at the faded purple robe of the sea.

Then, he saw a girl around his age, wearing one of those dresses but with odd leg-wraps on her legs, her long black hair was a high ponytail and she took off a pair of high heels. She looked at him with startling black and white eyes. Ichiban blinked mutely, he'd never seen someone like her. Someone with those oddly haunting eyes. She was sizing him up and he was sizing her up, his eyes inexorably pinned on hers. She ditched the heels.

"Fwahhh…! It's so good to be out of there!" she commented with a bright smile, making Ichiban's heart go BOOM. The eyes were on him again and he felt something burn up his cheeks.

"Yeah…" Ichiban mumbled, "You're tired of it too, right?"

The girl nodded, stepping closer and peering into Ichiban's eyes. She smiled and Ichiban looked down at his formal shoes in embarrassment. He remembered feeling those eyes on him before… a few months ago.

"Aw! You're blushing! What, have you never seen a girl before?" she taunted a little.

"Well… uhm…" Ichiban's articulation was dying, his master's lessons died in his mind, "I'm sorry for staring! I'll… I'll just… g-go," he stammered. The girl tilted her head to the side, the long swath of hair swinging a little like a hypnotist's charm.

"Back into the breach, huh?" she asked.

"W-well… no. I… just don't want to keep my master waiting! Yeah, yeah… that's it!" Ichiban exclaimed, "That an' I… I uh… have to…"

He was searching for an excuse to get out of this. He'd never seen such a pretty girl before. Of course, Ichiban had no idea who she was connected to. Not many went far in the underworld without hearing the name of Kure. Ichiban was one of the lucky few who didn't. Yet, someone was watching them. Ichiban couldn't shake that feeling but the girl took his wrist into her deceptively strong hand and led him away. He didn't even know her name.

"Okay! We're alone!" she exclaimed.

"Is… that a good thing?" Ichiban asked. The girl smiled and winked at him. She sat down on one of the deck chairs and Ichiban couldn't help but feel tense. She looked up at him with her white and black eyes, letting her hair loose.

"Depends. If I was an assassin going after the new challenger, I'd wait until they were alone," she said, "Besides, that's low,"

In the shadows, a figure darted out towards Ichiban, "And that… my dear fighter is a newbie assassin," the girl said, feeling the uncertain and undefined aura change into a fierce one and those dull silver eyes flare with starlight, he backhanded the unlucky assassin with a fist, making the guy stumble backward.

"Underestimation is common," the girl stated, "You have to prepare,"

Ichiban snarled, "Listen, Bright Eyes, I don't need the commentary! So shut up! TAIYAH!" he finished the guy off with the Steel Claw. The girl grinned widely up at him.

"I see now…" she breathed, the next two assassins were still amateurs. Ichiban was caught off guard and got nicked by a blade, he thumbed the cut and looked down at his hand. It was stained a little red.

"Heh, you got me!" he exclaimed, "But now I got you!" He rammed his knee into the assassin's gut, the second one smashing his fist into Ichiban's face. He stumbled back and the two assassins ganged up on him. He slid between them, acting woozy before slamming their heads together while ducking. He popped back up, "I did it! Hell yeah!" he squealed, pumping his fists in excitement. The girl smiled.

Ichiban's eyes dulled, "Man… Did I knock 'em out? Aw! But I wanted to try out my improved Steel Claw!" he sighed, "Dammit…" The girl was a little surprised about how normal he sounded when he just snapped at her earlier. Then it hit her… This was the boy she saw with the oddly undefined aura, she didn't exactly pay him any attention… but now? He was getting her full attention. Something about him screamed that he was strong, other than his oddly ever-changing aura and fighting style. His overly-long nails were a testament to the level of dedication he had.

The girl shook, shooting up and hugging him, catching the poor boy unawares and they landed on the deck, "I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!" she squealed, "Give me my children! No, no, marry me! Then let me have your children!"

"Uhm… sure!" Ichiban exclaimed. He was so confused. One second the girl was staring at him and the next she pinned him?! What the hell was happening?! The girl kissed him passionately, pulling away at just the right moment to stare into his pretty silver eyes.

"My name's Karla Kure… It's nice to meet you," she sighed, kissing him again, "You're so powerful…"

"Uhm… great? I'm… Ichiban… T-Tokita," he mumbled.

"Ichiban… cute…" she sighed, "Such a cute name…"

"Uhm… can ya get off me?" Ichiban whined a little, trying to wiggle out of Karla's hold.

"No… I don't wanna leave my love…" she sighed, "I just met my soulmate…"

Ichiban wiggled and squirmed, being vice-gripped by the cute girl with those strange eyes. He had to break free, so the only way he could was… doing the mouth thing that she did to him. She was surprised, but leaned into it, with Ichiban rising and setting her down, running away with his fear on overdrive.

'Gotta find somebody! Master Chiba! Mister Yoshiro Yoshitake?! SOMEBODY WHO I KNOW!' he thought, still running until he slammed into his cabin door, yanking it open and shutting it tightly, shuddering. 'What… was that? Why did I… like that?' he thought.

In the morning, Lihito noticed the little Tokita eating alone with his eyes darting around. He sighed and sat down next to the poor kid. Ichiban jumped and almost beaned the superhuman on the head with his tray.

"Whoa! Calm down, Lil' Man! It's me! It's Lithito!" the man yelped, the kid blinked and smiled.

"Oh! Lithito! S-sorry… for a second there I thought you were… her," Ichiban determined. Lithito's eyes widened at the mention of a her, 'Did he run into that Rino chick? Or maybe one of those creepy-ass Kure Family members?' the man thought, seeing that Ichiban's food was annihilated when he swung his tray in a desperate attack.

"Wow, the pressure's already setting in…" Lithito sighed.

"No, you don't get it! Last night, I met this girl, right? And one second I'm fighting assassins, and the next she's on me and did some sorta weird mouth thing that made my pants feel weird and my cheeks got all hot an' stuff!"

Lihito snickered, "Go on," he said.

"And she was CUTE and I don't know what to do and her eyes were weird but also hot in a cool way and she was talking about babies and marriage and I agreed because I was scared!" Ichiban fretted, "Now I gotta worry about fighting on top of that little chestnut!"

Lihito grew serious, "Did she have white and black eyes?" he asked.

"Huhn? What's that got to do with anything?" Ichiban wondered, "She… well… she…"

"Answer the question," Lihito said flatly, "Because I don't wanna see your body turn into… kid, don't turn around, don't even think about moving,"

Ichiban felt someone's arms lock around him, "Good morning, Ichi! Sleep well?" Karla asked cheerily, leaning over him to stare right into those silver eyes of his. Ichiban looked impassive, but inside he was the epitome of freaking out.

This couldn't get any worse, Karla swung around and plopped herself on his lap, cuddling up with her new boyfriend, "Hmmm? What were you two talking about?" she asked.

"Uhm… GUY THINGS! Lithito, you saw that action movie on TV last night?!" Ichiban snapped, panicking.

"Oh yeah! That movie was awesome!" Lithito played along, the two men were nervous, and Karla could tell, she was an assassin after all. She pouted a little.

"You were talking about me, weren't you? Don't worry! I haven't told my grandfather about us yet…" she assured her reluctant boyfriend. Ichiban flinched and Lihito started to whistle idly.

"Gr-Grand… father?" he mumbled, "Why… why did she… have to… uuuurrrrhhhhhh…" Ichiban laid his head on the table, he was trying to keep a low profile, but of course his acquaintance Lihito and One-Sided Girlfriend Karla had to shoot that down.

"Ichiban!" a familiar voice snapped him out of his slump, seeing the familiar eyes of Kazuo Yamashita and seeing the middle-aged man waving to him. The silver-eyed and silver-haired boy sighed in relief at seeing the timid man run up to him with his former master Ohma and Miss Akiyama in tow.

Ohma looked at his former student, brown eyes scanning him, 'Hm. He's grown… but… that girl's… making him uncomfortable.' he thought.

"Hey you, you're making him uncomfortable," Ohma warned.

"By the way… who is that girl, Lihito?" Kazuo wondered Lihito swallowed his food as Karla tried to feed Ichiban but he was resisting.

"She's part of the Kure Family… a whole dynasty of assassins," Lihito said.

"Kure Family?" Ohma and Kazuo asked in unison.

Karla smiled, finally getting Ichiban to open up, "See? Not so bad now, is it?" she asked.

"Mmmm…." Ichiban groaned, looking at the others, the plea for help was clear in his eyes. Ohma smirked a little bit.

"Already finding trouble I see. You leave me for a month or two, pick up a new master and employment at Lihito's old position and now have a girl hanging off you?" Ohma taunted a little bit, ribbing his old student as Karla growled, shoving closer to Ichiban.

"Eeeehhhh…. Assassin? Family? Family of… assassins?!" Kazuo gasped, "That means… oh, poor Ichiban… he must've fallen into the wrong crowd!"

Karla gritted her teeth and buried her face into Ichiban's chest. He wanted to leave and just try to never speak to her again, throw himself off the ship and swim to a deserted island where it's just him and a ball he named Wilson.

"Uhm… Karla? Can I… get up?" Ichiban asked.

"Is it important?" she wondered.

"Yeah," Ichiban stated, Karla let go, kissing him on the cheek.

"Come right back, okay?" she instructed, Ichiban shakily nodded and booked it for the bathroom, going into a stall. He slammed it shut and started to breathe heavily. Why was he panicking? Was it because she strong-armed him into being with her?

Whatever happened to taking it slow? Meanwhile, Karla sighed. Maybe she was too forward with what she wanted? She was pent up due to her Great Grandfather being her most ardent 'Guy Repellent' Plus Ichiban was strong, and around her age, too. Being only a year apart.

So here they were. Karla Kure trying to think of ways to win Ichiban's heart the real way and Ichiban trying not to have a total mental breakdown.

Kazuo decided to talk with the young man to try and assuage his worries, while Karla just got up and left, embarrassed, and scared that her pent-up affections drove Ichiban off. The small, timid man scooched into the bathroom, finding that his fighter's former student had locked himself in the stall.

He rapped his knuckles on the door and he heard Ichiban's breath hitch, "Ichiban, it's alright, she's gone now," Kazuo assured.

"Why?" Ichiban asked.

"Because she feels bad," Kazuo reasoned. Ichiban opened the door and Kazuo smiled. He looked haggard and tired when he first saw him once they boarded the S.S Kengan after the preliminaries last night. It'd only been a few months and a few days since he last saw the silver-haired young man.

"See? It's okay now, do you have any questions?" he wondered.

"What's… marriage?" Ichiban wondered, "Karla said that she wanted to marry me… and… have my kids?"

"Oh! Oh… w-well, which one would you like to hear about f-first?" Kazuo wondered.

"Marriage," Ichiban stated, "It sounds nice, is it nice?"

"Well, yes! When you see that girl of your dreams walk down that aisle and grab your hands and go through the speech and the vows and all of that… you two stay together forever…" Kazuo muttered that last part reminded him of how his wife up and left after his son shut himself away.

"Forever?" Ichiban asked, Kazuo nodded with a fond smile and reached up to ruffle the boy's mop of silver hair.

"Forever, Ichiban. It's important that you choose someone you can be happy with," Kazuo said, "Let's go ahead and talk about what you like in a woman, that way if anything matches up with Karla you can be a little happier about it,"

"Okay…" Ichiban sighed, "They gotta be strong. They… they gotta understand that I'm not the best man in the world, but I'll try. They gotta understand that every blow I take and every hit I deal is for them and whoever else I'm attached to,"

"Okay, okay, that's good, any others?" Kazuo wondered.

"She's… gotta be proud to… be with me. The only thing I'm good at is fighting… and I know I can't do much else. I can't even READ but… If they want me to do anything I can do in my power to help them? I'd be there no matter what," Ichiban sadly smiled, "I'd be there to nurse 'em back to health, I'd be there when they're scared… I'd never abandon her…"

For the first time, Kazuo saw Ichiban cry. He patted Ichiban on the shoulder, this time they were outside, somewhere in private so he could air his grievances in peace.

"I'd protect her. I'd take care of her. No matter what. I'd even die for her! As long as she's happy… I'd do anything," Ichiban sniffled. Kazuo smiled.

"There… Do you feel better?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks, Kazuo Yamashita," Ichiban said, walking off to go find Karla to talk to her. Kazuo smiled, seeing the young man start to walk away. Kazuo smiled a little bit wider, Karla and Ichiban were young, and it was natural that a boy like Ichiban being raised on the streets and just now forging a path through romance to be horribly in over his head.

Karla felt bad for forcing herself on Ichiban. She was in her room, burying her face into her pillows and screeching into them while kicking her feet in frustration. Ichiban was EVERYTHING she liked in a boy. Quiet, Good-Looking, Cutely Unaware of how pure he is.

Her other relatives had never seen her that frustrated before, but many of them knew to stay out of her way when she was. She grabbed her favorite book and went outside to think. She hated herself sometimes, but when she found somewhere quiet to read, she heard something.

"HWAH! HAIYAH! DO-YAH!"

Someone was training out his frustrations. Someone familiar and cutely familiar too. She saw him teetering and tottering into a fierce barrage of punches, flowing into a slashing movement with his hands. She did notice that he looked angry. His eyes were shining in the light and his hair was messy. Almost like he was nervous, he'd play with his hair or glance around. Yet this Ichiban was more than just frustrated.

He fell to the deck, panting and gasping, "Not… Good enough yet…" Karla looked over her book at him as he got up and walked over, he was muttering.

"Gr-Raa-Sss-Hooper?" he muttered, "No, no… that's… Grrr-aasssss-hoooppperrr?"

"Bi. Ant-Toon? Ch-che-check? Hove?" Ichiban guessed. Karla saw him sit down cross-legged on the deck next to her.

"You can't read?" she asked.

"I try," Ichiban stated, "Just uhm… lemme try again,"

Karla smiled a little bit, "If you don't get it, I can help," she said.

"No no, I got it this time… Anton… Checkhove! Graaaaassssssshhhhhhoooooppppperrrr?" Ichiban was still struggling, but wouldn't admit it.

"You have one part right," she stated.

"Ugh! It's not like fighting! But I know I won't have someone around to read everything to me! Grrraaah! I'm so frustrated I might just hunt down an assassin and beat the shit outta him!" Ichiban roared, making Karla laugh aloud.

"What's so funny?" Ichiban asked.

"It's cute how angry you get! It's like a pufferfish! You puff out your chest and get all red-faced!" she chuckled, making Ichiban furiously blush.

"Well I'm not the one that got full-speed tackled by the prettiest girl I've ever seen," Ichiban taunted, smirking a little.

"Touche," Karla admitted.

"What's that mean?" Ichiban asked, tilting his head to the side.

"It means you made a fair point," she explained, "What're you here for, anyway?" she wondered.

"I… just wanted… well… uhm… you know how to read and all that… and… well… can you… read to me?" Ichiban asked, "I'm okay with it if you don't want to, but if I hear it maybe I'll get better at reading it?"

Karla grinned and started from the beginning, watching Ichiban slowly start to slide closer to her to look over her shoulder at the words, sounding them out quietly next to her. She continued,

Ichiban was quietly listening and getting better, she noticed something about him that she never saw long on the younger members of the family. It was that wonder-struck, innocent look that just screamed that he was liking what he was doing.

He was figuring it out, and he was so close she could smell the odd smell of sweat and the salty air from the sea. The way his eyes seemed to follow and dance across the page, slowly, like a waltz.

She didn't notice that his arm was resting around her, leaning against her because he was getting sleepy. Then, she heard a quiet sigh and he… was out like a light. She looked around hurriedly for any of her relatives, she couldn't be SEEN with him! This would be blown out of proportion and pretty much bombed from the start by her Great Grandfather!

She shoved him up, 'Okay… time to put in all those years of training to work!' she tried to pick him up, "Oof! Damn, what are they feeding you? You're solid mus-"

"Mm? No… No, I don't think… that's flammable, sir…" Ichiban mumbled in his sleep, "Nevermind… I got a… date…"

Karla started to drag him, "Come… on! Come on! If any of the others see me with him, it's game over! I don't wanna scare him with… that… but I gotta get him to his-" she was cut off by seeing a man with a shaggy bob-cut and the same white and black eyes with a serious face all the time.

'Shit! It's Hollis! Okay, just uh…' Karla asked, shoving her comatose friend behind a pillar just as Hollis was rounding the corner. He saw her and she smiled.

"Oh! Hollis, what a nice surprise!" she exclaimed.

"I know you're hiding something, I recorded the whole thing," he stated, "Need some help?"

Karla was shocked, but Ichiban's sleeping body fell to the floor, "And… then… Karla… an' I… had THREE babies… one… on their… own and twins…" he mumbled in his sleep.

"You like him, don't you? I won't tell Grandfather, but… one day you'll have to tell him," Hollis stated.

"Eh?! Well… as long as HE doesn't know… I think we'll be okay, I'm fine with Grandfather knowing. Ichi's not that bad, he may be a little too innocent but it's cute," Karla admitted, "Okay! I got his arms, you got his legs," she declared.

"Or, I could just take him and you can mind your own business," Hollis reasoned, but Karla remained stalwart.

"You don't even know where his room is!" Karla snapped.

"So? I know YOU do," Hollis stated.

"What?! Nooooo…" Karla scoffed, "I don't watch him sleep!"

"You watch him shower, you leave at the same time every night," Hollis stated, "Face it, you're obsessed,"

Karla blushed, "Well it's not my fault he's hot!" she muttered. Hollis smirked a tiny bit but still helped her carry him back to his room. It's the least he could do. She was happy with Ichiban despite what he was. Hollis sighed and watched as Karla tucked Ichiban in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The pair of Kure walked out of there, but Karla was reluctant to leave. He was just overwhelmed, but she liked how attentive he was, how he'd listen.

"Hollis? Who is he? Or… was he?" Karla asked Hollis sighed.

"Karla, you'll know soon enough, Grandfather does his best to shelter you but… this time you'll see what he is," Hollis determined, "Old stories are around for a reason, they all have some truth to them,"

Ichiban woke up a little woozy, but he was fine. He stretched and noticed it was around lunchtime now. He got excited and ran over to the restaurant, hoping they still had those Tempura Sushi rolls he liked. He ran by a man in classic Japanese clothes, he was old and had the eyes of the Kure. They made eye contact and Ichiban bolted by. He skidded in and grinned, seeing that Lihito had saved him some and he was sitting with a massive muscular wall of a man with shaven hair and a friendly smile.

"Lihito!" Ichiban greeted, sitting down and grinning. The blond smiled and leaned forward on his hands.

"Sooo… you and that Kure girl, huh?" he asked.

"Ooh! A scandal!" The other man supplied, "C'mon kiddo! Tell us!"

"Uhm… what's your name?" Ichiban asked.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that! I'm Naoya Okubo! Lihito here told me you can copy stuff and combine it all in a unique style!" Okubo exclaimed.

"It's not that simple, but that's layman's terms…" Ichiban said, "Still, Karla and I… well…" he mumbled, his face going beet red.

"Huh?! Already?!" Okubo gasped.

"What?! No! No no no!" Ichiban exclaimed, "Nothing like that! It's just… she's… helping me learn how to read and I fell asleep…" he mumbled. Okubo nodded and Lihito chuckled.

"Hope you had a good sleep then!" the MMA fighter laughed, "Man, that's so lucky, cuddling with a cute woman or girl!"

Lihito sighed, "Man, you don't get it, Ichiban here is playing with fire…"

Okubo blinked, "What's so wrong with the Kure? I mean, yeah, they're assassins, but I don't see why that's the problem! Ichiban's got a cute girl hanging around him!" he laughed a little but saw Ichiban shuffle nervously.

"It's not that I'm nervous about them, what I'm nervous about is what they'll do to him," Lihito sighed, "I don't want such a potentially great fighter being put six feet under," Okubo and Lihito glanced at Ichiban innocently eating his Tempura Rolls, oblivious to their conversation. They didn't see Karla at least close by.

"Oh! Karla! Hey!" Ichiban perked up with a bright smile, waving. Lihito did NOT want a repeat of this morning, so he got ready to bounce. Seeing her look around and then come over to… sit next to him?

"I'm glad you're awake, Ichiban," she said.

"Oh yeah! Sorry about that, it's just… you kinda lulled me to sleep," Ichiban chuckled a little at her expression, "Here, have a tempura roll, they're like tempura but sushi,"

'HUH?! What the- how the- is she… is she respecting Ichi's boundaries?!' Lithito thought, watching the pair talk to each other like friends.

"So… you're a competitor, huh?" Okubo interrupted,

"Oh yeah, I am. Yoshitake Real Estate's Chimera," Ichiban stated with a grin, "I'm excited to fight some strong guys!" he declared excitedly. Okubo nodded and Lihito's grin split his face.

"So we might face each other in the ring if you get far enough! Razor's Edge Vs. Steel Claw, huh?" Lihito wondered. Ichiban nodded, swallowing his food and grinning even wider.

"Too bad we're competitors, I'd challenge you, but then… we're friends so…" Ichiban mumbled, "I don't wanna fight people I like,"

Okubo and Lithito didn't like that Ichiban was still a kid. The second youngest fighter, Cosmo Imai, had some experience under his belt. Ichiban was fresh, new, and so pure-hearted. He was currently listening to Karla reading again and following along, making the older fighters internally squeal at how cute it was.

"Okay, try and read the title again, Ichiban," Karla instructed. He nodded.

"Anton… Chekhocks… The… Grass… Hopper?" he slowly guessed, Karla grinned.

"See? Just one more word, okay?" she assured him, "I brought a lot of books, so you'll be able to read in no time!"

"Okay!" Ichiban exclaimed, "I'll try my best!"

That evening, Karla put her book away, sighing, and looking in the mirror. She had slight bags under her eyes from watching Ichiban's evening routine. He went to his room at seven, showered at seven-thirty, then was out like a light at about eight o'clock. But for some reason, she liked watching him. There was something about him that was so innocent and pure-hearted that also lends credence to his power. His ability to copy other's techniques but blend them into a completely new style was interesting and a good reason why his Aura was ever-changing.

She heard a knock at her door and she went to the door to answer it, seeing Hollis standing there, as serious as ever.

"Hollis? What's up?" she asked.

"Grandfather wants to speak with you," he said and Karla's heart dropped to her stomach. Hollis sighed and plunked his hand on her shoulder.

"Maybe it won't be as bad as you think, your little friend DID run past him at lunchtime today, he's just wondering what he is to you because he listened to the recording I did and he's not exactly angry, just curious," Hollis stated, squeezing his little relative's shoulder in assurance.

Erioh Kure was old. Ninety-three and nowhere near his prime anymore, he enjoyed taking things slow, Kengan matches, and his family's honor was paramount. So when he saw that silver-haired boy rush past him earlier… His aura felt familiar. It didn't fill Erioh with dread or anything of the sort. It just made him feel oddly nostalgic for the last time he felt it… which was years and years ago, a year after his precious Karla was born.

Then he spotted the boy and Karla reading together, and asked his other relatives if they knew about this, to which Hollis produced a recording of them hanging out. Karla and the boy… this… Ichiban fellow were friends.

He heard the door open and Karla stepped in with Hollis with her, "Grandfather," she said.

"Ah, come in, Karla," Erioh stated, a warm smile spread on his wizened face, she stood across from him and he smiled wider.

"Quite the busy one aren't you?" he asked.

"Hm?" Karla wondered.

"With that Ichiban boy, teaching him to read, eating with him, you two are close, right?" Erioh asked.

"Please don't kill him," Karla sighed.

Erioh blinked, "Oh, no… no… I have no reason to yet," he said. 'If that boy ever hurts my Karla I swear I'll hunt him down to the ENDS OF THE EARTH!' he thought, the air around him warping and shuddering as his anger spiked.

"Pahahaha! Really? Wow, old man! Karla gets her first boy toy an' already you wanna break his neck?!" a rough, gravelly voice cackled as a tall man with spiky blonde hair and the same dark eyes as the others came in, a wide smile plastered on his face.

"Raian, do you know anything about him other than what Karla knows?" Erioh asked.

"Psh, he's another competitor for Yoshitake, some Ichiban Tokita kid… he looks like that other clan from those stories you used to yap about," Raian scoffed, "But, it's HILARIOUS! Karla's got a crush on some scrawny puke!"

"Raian! That's quite enough!" Erioh snapped, "Is this true, Karla?" he asked.

"Promise me you won't kill him first!" Karla demanded, "Please, just… hear him out and meet with him," she pleaded.

"Fine, he'll be left alone for now, if he hurts you… you'll be the one to end him," Erioh stated, "Such is the way of the Kure Family. Such is the way of all things,"

Karla nodded, feeling terrible. If he wasn't impressed by Ichiban… she'd never see him again.

"Karla… you know I'm willing to meet with him to make sure he's got no ill will or intentions towards you, even if his family copied techniques and styles from other families and is a disgrace to martial arts…" Erioh sighed, still taking shots at the boy he barely even knows.

"Bring him by tomorrow, he trusts you," he determined and Karla brightened, hugging her Great Grandfather, hearing him chuckle a little bit.

"Easy now, dear Karla, these bones aren't what they used to be!" he joked. Karla went out of the room, and Erioh turned back to ponder what he saw. 'Silver hair…' he thought, 'If he is what I think he is… he shouldn't be too much of a danger.'

Raian snickered, "Nervous, old man? You looked like you've heard a ghost!" he exclaimed. Erioh hummed a little, looking out at the night sky.

'Why have you returned now, Haiironome?'