#it wasnt so bad in years since that time I managed to heal it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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teamconductors · 3 years ago

Note

im actually super excited for an emmet """"redemption"""" arc if thats where we are going. emmet understands how selfish he was and works to be better than that, promising himself that he will not only apologize to elesa, but recognize everything shes done for him while he was grieving/kinda losing it (because seriously, anyone that sticks with their friend like she did for him through that deserves an award and 10 years of therapy) when he gets back, and that hell try to do better than let his pain consume him like it did- even if ingo DOESNT end up coming back with him!! because even though grief is a horrible, painful thing, life has to go on, and i think if theres anything all these pmd adventures did, it was allow emmet to get back into experiencing that part of living where hes dedicated to helping the people around him, something im sure was difficult to pursue while he was on his downwards spiral (which wasnt helped by almosy nobody listening to him tbh). maybe emmet REALLY has to experience a path of solitude where he does some rescues on his own, so the two of them can both work on being apart while remaining functional, because that separation anxiety is very real and very bad for the both of them! im focusing on emmet with this because he never really healed(i guess you could say ingo never did either, since amnesia and the pearl clan kinda gave him the chance to be an individual all on his own. even if he felt lonely the entire time, he still managed better than emmet. not that doing that was very difficult.), and essentially got what he wanted (in a horrible, twisted way which hurt both of them) by letting his mental state go downhill, and he STILL hasnt gotten past his severe attachment issues and trauma(considering what he went through it is pretty difficult to blame him). so......id really love to see where you go with all that!! heres to hoping emmet and ingo come out of this as a stronger individuals.

anyway, meanwhile ingo gotta work on letting go of his need to always put others in front of himself (or himself in front of others, if we are being literal) to a self destructive level and recognizes he doesnt always have to be the one providing a service for others!! let everyone have ingos back always. big brother instinct be damned.

That is a lot of thoughts, my dude! Given the trajectory of the fic rn, I'm not sure if I'd be able to explicitly cover everything suggested here... I hope that isn't too disappointing and that you continue to enjoy the story anyway!

#pokelec speaks

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garne--tt · 4 years ago

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x japan iceberg explained;

before i start, i probably didnt explain something right and if u want to correct me or add something, feel free and even dm me about it! + i will add trigger warnings for possible triggering content in this post

formed in 1982 - x was formed in 1982 after toshis and yoshikis previous band disbanded

X --> X JAPAN - they changed their name from X to X JAPAN in 1992 in order to distinguish themselves from the american punk rock band X

Saw IV - a horror movie from 2007, x japan did a theme song I.V. for the movie, it was their first song released since 1998

new album - an new x japan album that was supposed to be released lots of times over the 10+years but still (to this day) wasnt released

coachella 2018 - x japan performed at coachella 2018, many fans are saying how the sound was bad (usually blaming it on the sound production team?? or whatever its called) and apparently sugizo and yoshiki were seen arguing with the sound production team

we are x - a 2016 documentary about x japan (or rather yoshiki, because apparently it was mainly focusing on him)

psychidelic violence crime of visual shock - a slogan, mainly seen on the blue blood album cover, the term visual kei was derived from the slogan yoshiki, toshi, hide, pata, taiji - the most known lineup, from 1987 to 1992

2. tw// suicide mention

violet uk - one of unfinished yoshikis projects, started in 2002, didnt even debut but was supposed to in 2012

V2 - unit of yoshiki and tetsuya komuro, was active in 1992, they released one single and did one concert

ra:in - patas band, active since 2002, members are - pata, michiaki, die (also former member of spread beaver), ryu

noise/dynamite - toshis and yoshikis first band, formed in 1977 as dynamite, then they changed the name to noise, noise disbanded in 1982

s.k.i.n. - superband (group) of yoshiki, gackt, miyavi and sugizo, their only activity was in 2007 and it was live, they announced more activities but they were stopped

xfreaks - an international xjapan fan forum created in 2006

dope headz - band that had heath and pata as members, active from 2000 to 2003

hide with spread beaver - hides live band, other members were kiyoshi, k.a.z, hiroshi watanabe, satoshi miyawaki, d.i.e, i.n.a

zilch - supergroup formed by hide in 1996, other members were ray mcveigh,paul raven, joey castillo and i.n.a

lynx - one of heaths band, active from 2004-?, the vocalist for this band was issay from der zibet

yokosuka saver tiger - hides former band, he was member from 1981 to 1986 sugizo - luna sea guitarist, he joined x japan in 2008

hides death - hide committed suicide in 1998 (he hanged himself) update: this is what authorities said and what is official

3. tw// suicide

taijis death - in 2011 taiji was flying from japan to saipan, on the flight he got into fight with his manager (or flight attendant?), he was arrested after they landed in saipan and then he hanged himself with bedsheet in his cell

x japan translations - an site that had xjapan translations (like toshis book etc...), the site was active and up until 2018

taijis departure from X - taiji left X in 1992, but we dont know the exact reason why he left

toshi was in cult - toshi was member of cult known as home of heart from the late 90s (1998?)

1997 - the year x japan disbanded

yoshiki and queen elizabeth incident - in 2019 during royal windsor cup yoshikis scarf accidentally landed on queen elizabeth

yoshiki knows everyone - (not everyone ofc) but he met a lot of celebrities, politicians (barrack obama, johnny depp, prince phillip, bts etc,,)

art of life - a 29 minute song released released in 1993, it was was recorded only in english, the theme of the song are yoshikis suicidal tendencies, art of life was meant to be released in the jealousy album (1991)

yoshikis father - yoshikis father committed suicide when yoshiki was 10 years old

taijis cut off joint on finger - taiji when he was kid, showed his hand into a factory machine (his family owned factory) and cut off his first joint on his finger

yoshikis health problems - yoshiki has tons of health problem since he was child (asthma, he was always sick and spent most of the time in hospitals etc,,) and suffers from many of health problems even now

toshis healing music - toshis music he made during the home of heart era

kaori moritani & masaya - kaori moritani is toshis ex wife, they met in around 1993 when they played in rock opera hamlet, they got married in 1997 and divorced in 2010, she introduced him to masaya (and got him, or rather manipulated him, into home of heart)

masaya - real name tōru kurabuchi - musician and leader of home of heart

-more about home of heart and the whole situation here: https://bloodydesertrose.tumblr.com/post/96662764536/support-toshi-dont-buy-or-listen-to-any-of-his-songs

debut in usa - x japan was supposed to debut in usa in the 90s (and even changed their name because of it, x-->xjapan)

extasy record - label formed by yoshiki in 1986, the first release under extasy records was x orgasm ep, the label had bands like xjapan, luna sea, glay, zi:kill tokyo yankees and more

yoshiki paid for taijis new teeth - after hides funeral yoshiki noticed that taijis some teeth were missing or chipped, so he handed him around 2 million yen (around 18 497 usd) to get his teeth fixed

l.o.x. - punk rock supergroup, yoshiki was drummer in this band, they also used to be named masami & l.o.x (masami was their vocalist), masami collapsed and fell into coma in 1989 and died in 1992 due to pneumonia in coma, l.o.x released one album with different vocalist (one of them which was toshi and yoshiki went by the alias shiratori rei here on the album) in 1990, l.o.x. released one song in 2002 in memory of masami

standing sex promotional shot & single cover - the promotional shot & single cover basically shows yoshiki nude (with his intimate parts covered of course + this wasnt the only time yoshiki has done something like this)

rose & blood -indies of x- - an unofficial album with demos and unreleased x songs

unreleased & old songs - there are a lot unreleased songs + unreleased old songs or just old songs that dont get played anymore

rosenfeld - crows in black - blue blood has similar guitar riff (i dont know how to say it) to this song (crows in black / b was firstly recorded on demo in 1986)

former members - x japan has big amount of former members - 11 former members (excluding taiji and hide from this)

terry - a former member of x, he was one of the original members (being a member from 1982 to 1985), terry died in 2002 in car accident

yoshiki got sued by hides brother - yoshiki got sued by headwax (hides company which hides brother owns) for using hides photos, apparently they had a contract but it expired and yoshiki still used hides photos even though the contract expired

x japan condoms - they were released in 1993 with the intent to help increase awareness and prevent the spread of AIDS. the reason why they probably did this is that toshis fan died at the age of 19 due to AIDS (toshi even dedicated a song to him - passion of love and became a active member and sponsor of association of struggle against AIDS)

heath cow story - when heath joined xjapan they celebrated it by drinking and then driving 2 hours to cow farm, then they drove to aquarium but it was already closed

heath leaving x japan - in 2009 there was a rumor that heath would leave x japan, apparently this was caused due to heaths contract problems (?) dementia - taijis former band, he was member from 1984 to 1985 and went under the name ray

pata was roadie for x - before joining x in 1987, he was roadie for x (or the member hally) around the time in 1986 (1985?)

pink spider was a suicide note - this one is a rumor/theory that is circulating around, fans analysed the lyrics and came to conclusion that its suicide note

x stayed at different hotels than other bands - when x was on tour with other bands they were staying at different hotels than other bands, because one time (on tour with other bands and in hotel) hide got into drunk fight with juichi morishige (lead vocalist of ziggy) and sprayed the entire hotel lounge with fire extinguisher

taiji was homeless - taiji was homeless for around 2 years (1996-1998), due to financial issues + he got divorced at this time

heaths myspace account - there was heath myspace account, but it wasnt him, it was someone pretending to be him

weekend pv theory - (i dont know if i should have put this here to be honest) a theory that x members chose what their death would be in weekend pv (yoshiki - suicide, hide - suicide in drunken rage??, taiji - murder, pata - alcohol poisoning, toshi doesnt die in the pv)

hide vocaloid - hides unreleased song co gal got finished via vocaloid (using his voice samples from various songs of his)

yoshiki lead singer - before toshi was chosen to be the lead vocalist for x, yoshiki was the vocalist (there is also a recording of stab me in the back with mostly yoshiki on vocals!)

hide and marilyn manson meet up story - im gonna just attach a screenshot of the story

taiji was murdered - taiji committed suicide in 2011 in his cell on saipan, but there are some things that point to the possibility that he was murdered (his manager insisted on cremating his body and got cremated without autopsy, money got transfered on his account, information missing from the internet?? etc,,)

juns tape - demo tape recorded in 1986 by at the time X guitarist jun, tape contains instrumental recordings of unreleased songs right now, only way, tune up and one unnamed song.

ill kill you single cover - cover of 1985 X single ill kill you, it contains photos of victims of the vietnam war

feel me tonight - demo tape from 1985/1986, it contains songs feel me tonight and stab me in the back (all of them are under one minute here) sung by their at the time guitarist hally (apparently there aslo should be yoshiki version of it, but i dont know how much we can trust metal archives)

8. tw// eating disorder mention

yoshiki hired someone to kill taiji - this one is a rumor!!!, yoshiki was supposed to get/hire yakuza to kill taiji hide had an eating disorder - this one is unconfirmed!!! hide suffered from bulimia (yoshiki walked on him purging - and this story was also apparently told by yoshiki???)

#long post #xjapan #x japan #iceberg #this was supposed to be posted on twitter #but when i was in the half i couldnt add more things to the thread anymore #tw eating disorder mention #tw suicide mention #jrock #visual kei #vkei

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eitelle · 4 years ago

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— seeing his ex at a cafe again

↳ with atsumu miya

genre: implied exes to lovers, angst to fluff, songfic (good 4 u by olivia rodrigo)

pairings: timeskip!atsumu miya x gn!reader

ask (too long to put here)

warnings: bits of angst, timeskip warnings

wc: 540

a/n: PLAYING SOUR WHILE IM WRITING TJIS!! so excited for my first ever songfic eek!! bro im sorry but this was so hard to do angst to fluff w this song help me-

atsumu sat in his childhood room reminiscing on that summer. the summer when you were still together. his management and himself agreed; the less people to worry about because of how popular he was, the better. at least thats how he used to feel. it had been months since he called your 4 year relationship quits. if that was so true, how come he had never felt more miserable?

You bought a new car and your career's really takin' off / It's like we never even happened / Baby, what the fuck is up with that

buying shit to replace what reminded him of you helped, and his team was in the best shape it had ever been. after losing you, atsumu threw himself into volleyball and helping MSBY excel. his hard work paid off; it was obvious to anyone but no one noticed how much pain he was in without you. so many things reminded him of you, some bad but oh so many good. so he deleted them all. might as well feel nothing than feel pain right?

And good for you, it's like you never even met me

sometimes atsumu wishes he never met you. that was always a lie though, his life was full of so much life and joy with you in it. so he took off to the place where you first met: the cafe in where it all started... and ended.

Remember when you swore to God / I was the only person who ever got you?

you were the only person who thought before he could, the brains behind the operation if you will. you understood him more than he understood himself, which is why when it all ended, it was a shock to both of you. MSBY knows your name, and your friends know his; in good and bad ways respectively. on his way to the cafe he prepared for the scenario in which he sees you. he wasnt ready. but he would never be ready, so better now than never.

Well, screw that and screw you / You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

you both knew hurt, being in love for so long would do that to someone. breaking up really always was a two sided thing. finally arriving at the cafe, in hopping out and going back in, the first thing he sees is your face.

Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy / Not me, if you ever cared to ask

hearing those words come from your mouth stung. he knows he hurt you, but he was in pain too. he just hoped you would accept his apology. of course maybe he just realized that that miserable dark abyss in his stomach was missing you.

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me / Baby, God, I wish that I could do that

“y/n... you look like youre doing great,” he says, his first words to you since the breakup. ‘god i wish that i could do that,’ he finishes in his mind. “do i really?,” you ask all the love and longing youve been suppressing all this time.

I've lost my mind / I've spent the night cryin' on the floor in my bathroom

those words impacted both of you. that admission showed the opening up from you to start the healing process. “im sorry baby, yer the most important thing to me. really. management is fucked but i dont really need them. i just need you. please y/n, just consider me. i care. i care more than you think. please can we just try again?” he begs, hoping for a chance with the love of his life. “itll take time. and ive missed you too for the record. but ill give us a try, you just have to give me time,” you reason. “hey baby, ill give you all the time in the goddamn world just to have you back again.”

PLS REBLOG THIS TOOK ME SO LONG IT WAS RLY HARD TO DO!!

↳ back to all of haikyuu

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#haikyuu!!#haikyu oneshots #haikyu x reader #haikyu fanfiction #haikyu headcanons #kozuelle haikyuu #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #msby black jackal #haikyuu msby #msby atsumu #atsumu x y/n #atsumu angst

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shattersstar · 4 years ago

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here r my jason headcanons abt his scars and general feelings about his appearance + how the reader deals with it

disclaimer: wrote these in my notes within half and hour and i’m tipsy but i hope u enjoy these thots

jason wasn’t overly aware of his appearance growing up, until he moved in with bruce. he was aware he was a bit rough around the edges, growing up as he did was direct influence of that, but it wasnt until he had to interact with high society he was made aware of how looks mattered. he didn’t get the same treatment as dick, maybe the novelty of bruce’s wards had worn off come the second robin, or maybe they all recognized a poorness in him that left his toothy grin a little smaller. he tried not to care but those things bite at the back of your mind and leave residual scars to trace in years to come.

and years later, he had come to hate his body. it was something mangled, mashed and stitched back together, barely holding itself together in the first few years after the pit. his autopsy scars stayed too, every injury from being robin, from his life on the streets healed into a nothing but those fucking scars stayed. they were a harsh reminder of how his life panned out and would follow him around till he died—again.

the distaste from the socialites he had nearly forgotten about seemed to burn through his veins each time he passed a mirror. as he grew and accumulated more wounds, ones that healed and others that didn’t, the more he stopped looking at himself. he wanted to feel the vanity others had thrusted upon him, wanted to relish in the sly glances he got as he aged into his (forever handsome) features, but all he felt was lies. They wouldn’t be as bold with their eyes if they knew about him, about what hid under the layers of clothes, what phantoms hung on his shoulders and the blood he washed away, that never truly left. He couldn’t find a rugged appreciation in the crooked bend of his nose of the scar that clung to his cheekbone, another slicing through his left brow bone.

he felt like he had grown into what he was always seen as, some rough kid from the streets of gotham. he didn’t hate looking mean, it had its advantages. he liked the surprised reactions he got from his apartment neighbours who assumed he was just some criminal kid trying to make his stake in the crime ridden city. but then he’d help them carry groceries, let them drop off their pets at his place when they went out of town for the weekend, helped esl kids with english homework when he had free time. part of him wished he didnt have to win over people to get him to accept and trust him but he understood nonetheless

that was until you showed up. you moved in across the hall and asked him the day you met to help you move the couch the movers put in the wrong spot. “if you’re busy its all good.” you added at the end with a shrug, likely due to his own stunned silence at your request. he agreed, pulling his key from the lock and spent the evening setting up your living room. you paid him in a beer your friend had given as a house warming gift and asked him about the floor. you were a bit nosy, a little gossipy but something about it felt sincere. just a genuine curiosity about the inner workings of the place he called home. actually—everything about you just felt sincere.

you were kind to him, treated him like a neighbour and not a cautionary tale and jesus that scared the shit outta him. you popped up in his life a few times after your first meeting, inviting him over when you made way too much food or asking him for a good grocery store nearby. it wasn’t until you knocked on his door, asking if he wanted to hang out—no conditions, no help or anything needed. “do you like movies?” you asked, swaying on the balls of your feet as jason stood in his doorway, it barely cracked open out of habit.

“as long as its not based on a book.” he replied, ignoring how dry his throat was.

“you’re a ‘book is better then an adaptation’ kinda guy huh?”

“because its true.”

“unless the book already sucks.” that made him chuckle.

“but yeah i like movies.”

“cool the things is—“

“u dont have a tv.”

“exactly, we can squish onto my bed or watch it at your place if you’re cool with that. can’t lie i am curious to see how you live.” you admitted, jokingly pushing yourself onto your tippy toes and pretending to peer over his shoulder.

“my place then.”

“tomorrow night?”

“tomorrow.”

it quickly became a weekly tradition, you’d bring popcorn and something you stressed baked and alternate between picking films. most were spent in his living room, but after a while you managed to get him back into your place. you did exactly what you said and squished into your bed, laptop balancing on your lap desk. jason was in his usual long sleeve and sweats. you were in a tshirt and pj shorts. it was summer and he knew you were going to ask. “you wanna go back to your place in change? its kinda warm and as much as i like you, i dunno how i’d feel about you overheating on me.”

despite your attempt at humor he muttered a quick, “i’m fine.”

you shrugged it off and jason should’ve known better. should’ve known you weren’t going to drop it, that wasnt how you worked. you were nosy and talkative and curious and pushy and caring and you hated the idea of a wall between you two. so when you slipped into his lap one day, some early 2000s romcom droning on behind you, he knew exactly what you were up too.

your knees dug into the side of his couch and your hands landed on his shoulders. “were friends right?” you asked, and something about how your nose bumped his felt anything but platonic.

“yeah.” he breathed, hyper aware of your thumb brushing against the collar of his shirt. one of his scars peaked through, and a jagged knife wound that left him half dead on a rooftop two years ago.

your thumb brushed it and his fingers clasped to your forearms in warning.

“this is why you’re always in sweaters right? what you’re trying to hide.” your eyes were fixed on it, still rubbing small circles against the skin around it. he didn’t say anything, you had were more observant than he gave you credit. “friends dont keep secrets jay.” you all but pouted at him, forehead resting against his.

“they’re...bad.” was all he could stress, eyes downcast to where your thighs met his.

“they’re apart of you which means they cant be bad. not to me.”

and it was like the hesitation in which people would approach him, the disgusted whispers about the newest wayne ward, the eyes that were fearful to meet his all vanished. all the left over pain and hate for his tired and broken body was put somewhere he couldnt reach even if just for this moment.

he still had a hard time looking in the mirror, wished his battered knuckles didn’t stand out so much when your fingers locked with his, wanted to kiss you without feeling the small scar from his near constantly split lip, wanted to be able to wear the more revealing clothes you thought he’d look good in, and more. there were still things to want and wish and hate and push away. but there was also your voice now living in his mind whispering the words he hadn’t known he needed to hear since he was a kid.

#this honestly turned into a fic halfway through #but i’m still gonna call them headcanons bc y’know its messy #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #writing #me?? posting two works within a week??? unheard of #idk where this inspiration came from but i am thriving

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thgreatestblue · 4 years ago

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you're alive (in my head)

➜ pairing: sanemi shinazugawa x gn!reader ➜ warnings: angst, mention of dead character, manga spoilers, fluff. ➜ words: 7.6k ➜ a/n: i had the idea for this fic while listening to marjorie by taylor swift. it’s such a beautiful and touching song, i definitely recommend it. this one turned out quite big but anyway, happy holidays! ➜ ao3

summary: The man looks at you again, between white lashes that were still wet from his tears. He was a broken man whose pieces you didn't know how to put it back together. A puzzle you found yourself staring at without any clue of what form it should shape. It doesn't mean you weren't going to try anyway.

The piano would always call your name at the old restaurant your parents owned. It was an old and ugly thing; battered through time, but it would make the same wonderful sounds your grandmother used to do when playing it. That’s how you learned how to play in the first place. And how the tradition of having a musician in the family kept going, much for your parents' disdain.

You worked at your parents’ restaurant as a waitress. It was a family legacy you didn't quite like; working at the old restaurant for the rest of your life was not what you had in mind while growing up. It wasnt that you didn't like cooking and talking with strangers — it was quite a pleasant interaction that you had refined throughout the years.

However, you wanted bigger things for your life. That’s why playing piano and writing songs were something you would always look forward to when the restaurant wasn't full. At some point, people started to demand to see you play, asking when they would hear your songs again; and that was enough to put a little bit of confidence inside your very cowardly heart.

Each time you played, slender fingers touching keys like they were made for it; it would always take you to another place, one that you didn't need to step down the stage and go back to real life. Your mother once told you and your grandmother were too alike, and even though she meant it as a bad thing, you held onto that as the best compliment you had ever received.

Tonight, you were too nervous and focused on playing a song that you had written for your long-passed grandmother; it had taken an entire month to come up with lyrics and a melody that felt just like her. After all, it was her birthday. There were so many things you wished you had said, you wished you had done. But instead of mourning, you decided to pour your feelings into a song — it’s been 5 years already, all the wounds that were open had already healed, but that didn't mean they didn't itch from time to time.

As you sit down on the worn out bench, the floor of the improvised stage cracks under your feet. Your father had built for you after realizing that you weren't going to stop playing it, even if he put the piano outside in the rain. Your mother had convinced him, after all, you were still doing your job and the customers liked to hear live music, there was no hurt in letting you play.

You can feel eyes on you already; there was always an expectation every time you appeared to play the piano, and you would always try to meet them. Always staying up till late, trying to come up with new lyrics, trying new sounds. Even though your life was pretty boring, you still managed to write about interesting elements; situations you could only imagine, like living a fancy life, or loving someone.

While you arrange the papers that you had written the song on the piano’s rack — not that you needed, it was just to put your mind at ease, that you weren't going to screw this up — you take a long look at the crowd; most of them still eating and talking to each other. You knew their attention would only fall on you when you started playing.

However, there was someone looking directly at you. You knew that face all too well by now; it was impossible to miss the hair as white as the driven snow, or the scars that crossed his face that would make many people shrink away, scared by the intimidating aura he carried with him. However, you knew it wasn't the case; his eyes — even though you didn't have the courage to stare for too long — were gentle.

The man would come to the restaurant every now and then. Your cousin who worked at the bar, would always try to talk to him, but the man would always be short and sharp; preferring paying attention to his food, and mostly to alcohol which he would drink until it was time to close.

It wasn’t something unreal, since there were a lot of people who did the same. But what made him so different was that every time someone would come closer without warming, he would snap, always on guard. It reminded you of your grandfather, that would always carry with himself a knife; after a long life battling in the countryside, he never forgot the things he saw.

You offer him a tiny smile; despite not knowing the man — not even his name — you still wanted him to feel at ease in the restaurant, everyone was more than welcomed at this tiny place that your grandfather had fought so hard to build.

Speaking of each, was nowhere to be seen. You weren't sad that he was going to miss your first performance of the song since you two wrote it together. He was almost tired of listening to you go back and forth, memorizing until it was carved on your mind like a detailed wooden piece. Besides, you were sure he was at her grave now, making her some company on this special day.

The man doesn’t turn away, nor return the smile, which is fine to you. At least he didn't completely ignore your presence, being the complete mystery he was, you felt lucky that he had come to watch you play.

Taking a deep breath, your fingers flew over the keys with ease; it was almost like a second nature by now, almost as easy as breathing. It had taken you some time to learn, to understand how the structure of the piano worked and how you could turn separate notes into a song. Your grandmother was patient enough to teach you the basics; to teach the same thing over and over until you had printed on your mind like a tattoo.

The song was quite easy to play, you chose not to do something so out of your comfort zone because you knew your emotions were going to take over once you started to sing. The lyric had you and your grandfather crying once it was finished. But he didn't seem sad — not entirely — he smiled and hugged you, saying that wherever she was, she was proud; and you believed in his words with all your heart.

Your voice trembles in a few parts, but nothing that would mess with the entire song. It only added more intensity and weight onto your words. Most people that frequented the restaurant knew about her, so it wasn’t something coming out of the blue - they understood the feeling behind it. And you are glad that you could remember your grandmother the way she always loved: playing the piano.

As you played the last notes, the small crowd of the restaurant applauded your performance, a sound that made your heart jump in anticipation; it was the best reward you could ever receive. You notice that some people were weeping away their tears while you bow in gratitude for their attention.

Stepping down from the makeshift stage, your mother gives you a hug, she wasn't good with words but you knew she was pleased with the performance. Although, before you could say anything, she shoves an apron in your direction, motioning towards a table that had a couple waiting to order. You shake your head in disbelief, but takes it anyway and starts to get ready to work.

The night goes by in a blink of an eye, there were more people than you were used to. You highly suspected it was because there was a festival coming up in the city in a few weeks, and many people came to see the fireworks. You swing among the tables; dividing your attention between taking orders and thanking the compliments and praises people would throw at you as you walked by. You took each one of them and put close to your heart — they were enough, for now.

When your father decides to close the restaurant, you're more than tired. Even though in your mind the night went by in a flash; your bones were screaming because of the constant walking and talking. It was good for business, but not for you. Your father was a proud man that didn't accept outside people working in his restaurant, so you had to endure the amount of work and hope that the next day you were fully recharged.

The trash of the day is by the door and by the looks of it, no one is going to take it out. You glance at your cousin but he immediately shakes his head, showing that he was still cleaning the glasses from the bar. You sigh loudly, getting up from the chair you were comfortably seated in.

Grabbing the two huge bags, you open the door with your foot. A breath of fresh air hits your face — it smells like rain and grass — it's cold against your skin. You didn't notice the rain had come and gone, too absorbed in your job to pay attention; although you were content since you liked how the earth smelled after it.

You walk to the alleway right beside the restaurant, the huge bins still wet with a few raindrops. As you throw the trash inside, something; no, someone catches your attention from the corner of your eyes.

How fast you recognized the white hair was something to worry about another time, pushing down the thoughts that were starting to rise in your mind to take a better look at him.

The man was seated against the wall, with his arms on his knees and a bottle of alcohol still hanging from his hand. His head was dropped into his chest, and for a moment you thought he was sleeping. You feel your heart spiking up with anticipation, your hands clench and unclench, million thoughts swing around your mind but you can't hear any of them. Against your better judgement, you start to approach him, making sure your feet make enough noise to announce your arrival.

He probably sensed that you were approaching because you notice how his body jerks slightly, slowly raising his head to look up at you. And your heart sinks in your chest as you catch a glimpse of his eyes, red and watery, some tears traveling his face down his cheeks to his chin.

“Are you okay?“ You ask out of habit, because of course he wasn't. A man with a bottle of alcohol seated against a dark alley definitely wasn't doing fine. You want to slap yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth.

“That song…” He starts, his voice is hoarse, barely audible. As if he had screamed the entire night at the top of his lungs. “Was really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” You answer, not knowing what else to say.

There was a growing feeling on your chest, one you couldn't ignore when seeing the man in such a miserable state. You didn't consider yourself an altruistic person, that would run to help people wherever they had a problem. In fact, your mother once said that you were a little bit too cold when outside of your comfort zone that was music.

However, contradicting everything you thought you were, you found yourself stepping closer to the man. Since it had rained almost all night, the ground was still wet, and you could see his trousers were wet in a few spots. The place he had chosen to sit wasn't the best either, with a huge puddle right next to his feet.

And again, against your better judgment, you slowly kneel next to him. He didn't flinch nor made any movement that would be a red flag for you to step away. Rather, he looks away and stares at the bottle he was holding, lips trembling; You didn't know if it was because of the cold or because he had been crying.

“Fuck...” He curses in a whisper, rubbing his face, a few fugitive tears falling down the prison of his eyes “...It’s been a year.”

You couldn't think of anything to say to the man. Comforting people had always been hard since there wasn't anything you could say that would make them feel better — you knew that by experience. He was clearly in pain and going through something you could only imagine. As much as you wanted to help, to offer at least some comfort, you didn’t want to prey and ask unwelcomed questions to a stranger that was in such agony.

“I wrote that song for my grandmother.” It's the first thing that comes to your mind; you heard once that sometimes, changing the subject would make the person focus on other things instead of what is causing distress to them, it was worth a shot, “Everytime I sing it’s like she’s with me.”

The man looks at you again, between white lashes that were still wet from his tears. He was a broken man whose pieces you didn't know how to put it back together. A puzzle you found yourself staring at without any clue of what form it should shape. it doesn't mean you weren't going to try anyway.

"How?" His voice breaks under the pale shine of the moon. You could see his hands trembling, an urge to hold it almost takes over your body, but you stop yourself before you could regret. Instead, you put your hand on his shoulder.

Men are proud creatures. You knew he would probably avoid you after tonight, being seen as vulnerable was the last thing they wanted. Something you never understood why, because right now, the only thing you felt was that this man was human, that he had feelings and regrets. Most men you had the unpleasant chance to meet at the restaurant were not even half of the man in front of you.

“Well, she taught me how to play the piano.” You say with a smile growing on your face. The memory was still fresh on your mind, one that you kept revisiting when the longing was too strong. “It’s a small part of her that I made into mine.”

He looks at you, eyes still red from the tears that dared to escape, but you pretend that you didn't see them, preferring to ignore his state for his pride. He opens his mouth to say something but falls in silence again. You still have your hand on his shoulder, and you squeeze it a little bit before getting up. Your knees were wet but it wasn't a problem.

“Sometimes, we need to fully accept that it happened in order to move on.” You say, looking in his eyes. You didn't know what he was going through, but if it was something like what you felt when your grandmother passed away, then you could say one thing or two. “It took me some time, now it’s bittersweet instead of full on bitter.”

You smile at him again, waving goodbye as you make your way back to the restaurant. You don't dare to look back as you turn the corner, but you can feel his eyes following you until you disappeared from his view.

II.

The next morning, you wake up sensing something strange. There’s a peculiar feeling settling on your stomach as you lay on your bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about the man from last night. After coming back home, it took you some time to finally get some sleep, tossing and turning around; his face still playing on your mind like your favorite song.

Why was yesterday any different from the other times you had seen him?

He was a common client at the restaurant; you had seen him stumbling on his feet when going home more than once. Had even exchanged a few words while filling his cup or bringing something he had ordered. Not that he had paid any attention to you, but it was small victories that you collected like seashells.

You knew the answer, just didn't want to admit. Because you are itching to know him better since the first time you laid your eyes on him. You’re a curious brat who can’t stop interfering in others' lives. Because you had seen him vulnerable.

You sigh loudly, rubbing your hands on your face. Fine, you could debate later why you were ceaselessly thinking about a complete stranger — who probably had a heavy amount of baggage and definitely didn't need someone looking at the content inside and making a mess of it.

After taking a quick bath, you head over to the first floor; despite still being morning, there were a lot of things to get done before opening the restaurant again in the afternoon. You didn't completely dislike the routine, but after repeating the same thing everyday, things tend to get blurry and more often than not, boring.

The only thing that took you out of the endless circles of cleaning and cooking was when you were seated on the piano bench; when you were allowed to travel to other places and write about whatever you wanted. However, today was an exception for the rule; your eyes instantly go wide as you watch the white haired man come through the door.

“We are closed, didn't you see the sign?” Your mother screams from the counter next to the door.

She has a dishcloth over her shoulder; her apron had a few stains of water and you suspected she was washing the rest of the dishes from yesterday. The man stops at the entrance, blinking a few times, mouth open midway but no sound coming from it. And you have to suppress the teasing grin that threatens to appear on your face.

“It’s okay mother, I invited him,” You say without thinking twice. Not quite sure where the burst of courage came from.

Both of them quickly turn their heads in your direction and stare at you. Your mother frowning in disbelief — it reminds you of the times you were still bold enough to voice your desire to become a singer, a silly dream that was erased throughout the years. The man had his mouth slightly open, the look of surprise on his face is almost comical.

Your mother gives you a suspicious look, hesitating for a brief moment before turning around to go back to the kitchen; mumbling something under her breath between what are they thinking? and well at least their are talking with someone. You roll your eyes and decide to ignore the last part.

Taking a better look at him in the morning light, you realize how his eyelashes were long, longer than any eyelashes you’ve ever seen; they’re pretty. But what would always hold your attention was his eyes; even though he wasn't looking at you, they were a different shade of purple, and you could stay staring at them for hours because that color was so unique.

“I…” He starts, looking anywhere but you. There’s a brief pause but you don't push the conversation, waiting for him to continue. He cleans his throat and tries again, “I wanted to apologize.”

Your brows arch in curiosity; that was the last thing you expected him to say, leaving you speechless. You didn’t understand. Well, it wasn't that you didn't completely understand what he meant by that, you were just caught by surprise. You could swear he would avoid you like the plague and pretend that nothing happened.

He runs his hand through his hair, seeming nervous with the interaction. You watch the movement, noticing how he had more scars running down his arms, and probably down his chest too. Where did he get that many? Your grandfather had one on his knee, but that was all the marks he had to remind him of the bad days in the countryside - one story that he would tell you from time to time. This man must have a lot of them if his body was covered in so many.

“For the other night, I mean.”

“Ah,” Returning from your train of thought that often had you spacing out; you offer him a genuine smile, “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Fuck, this is embarring,” He drops his hands at his sides, clenching and unclenching his hands, “Look, I drank a lot and…”

“I said, you don’t need to apologize,” You cut him short, saving him from the embarrassment that would be telling a story he clearly didn't want to revisit; to a stranger above everything else. As much as you wanted to know, you weren't in the position to demand anything from him, “I understand.”

Because you really did. Although you dealt with your grandmother’s death in a different way, since you were still a child when everything happened, you could still remember the hurt and the grief. People deal with problems in a variety of ways, it wasn't up to you to judge. He finally looks at you, mouth opening to say something, but you wave your hand, stopping him from saying anything else

“Are you hungry?” You ask, looking at the clock. it was half past 9. There were still some hours until lunch. If he was here at this time, he probably didn't eat anything since yesterday, the man needed something on his stomach after drinking so much. “My father just finished baking some bread, come eat with me.”

And again, you don't know where the burst of courage to invite him to your house, to your table came from, but you accepted it anyway. You had always been afraid of taking the first step since your parents discouraged you every time you tried. After some time you stopped dreaming about becoming a singer, or playing for a huge crowd. However, there was something about the man that made you want to act, to do something.

He looks surprised by the invitation, and you don’t blame him. it was a surprise for you as well. Since when did you become so bold? You would blame the curiosity that lingered every time you looked at his face; the odd feeling growing on your chest every time you thought about his beautiful purple eyes.

“Sanemi…“ Looking away, he rubs his neck. “My name is Shinazugawa Sanemi.”

“Oh, right!“ You can help but laugh, clapping your hands together. Such a simple step that you two had totally overlooked, jumping straight to the heavy stuff, “Y/N, nice to meet you!”

You offer your hand, and after a moment of hesitation, he holds your hand and squeezes it gently. It’s a firm grip and you can feel how calloused and rough his skin truly is. You don't mind though.

“Come,” Before Sanemi could back off and rethink the invitation; you pull him towards the kitchen, hand still holding his’ in a tight grip, “My father just took it out of the oven, it’s better when it's still hot.”

He stumbles a little over his own feet, mumbling something underneath his breath. But follows you inside nevertheless; not letting go of your hand either.

III.

When a song is created, it starts with different types of attempts; you could try changing the rhythm first. Then the words; should they rhyme? should they be separated in the chorus? It’s a long process until you reach the final piece; and it’s even a longer process to make something you’re proud of.

It’s the same process with your relationship with Sanemi. It started with only a few words thrown on the paper, none of them making any sense together. It took you some time to figure it out, how to use those words to create something nice.

The words would come to your mind every time he showed up at the restaurant; every time he talked to you and you could have a glimpse inside his mind. It was a tough task, to say the least. However, your heart has had a change of weather lately; rather than staying inside because of the rain; it started to go out, looking for the sun.

Sanemi would always appear if you invited him, especially on the days when you played the piano. He had told you once that he liked to hear you playing it, and since then you tried your best to come up with more songs and more rhythms. It was almost as if an imaginary dam had been breached inside your brain, and now each night you poured your heart into the paper, there were never enough words to describe everything you wanted to say. So you played.

His presence started to become more familiar; your mother knew his name, your father did too. Even your cousin now would talk to him without receiving a death glare. It was rather amusing seeing them interact because Sanemi was still, well, Sanemi. Although he would slip every now and then, he would always come back to his feet. It was a slow progress, one that you were more than lucky to see it happening.

You never mentioned that you were worried about his habits, what people did with their lives was up to them. However, after that night, you were always looking out for him. Talking and keeping him company when you weren't too busy with other customers. In the beginning he had told you to fuck off; but there wasn't any real threat on his voice, so of course you didn't.

You noticed, then, that he had stopped coming back home with a bottle of alcohol; had stopped getting angry at the other customers who would bump into him sometimes. Had a more friendly voice when talking to your cousin, and didn’t fall asleep on the counter with a glass still full. It was those small details that would make your heart warm, spring finally arriving after a long winter.

“Did you drink tonight?” You ask, leaning over the counter. He was the last client for the night.

The restaurant was closing; what once was relief, now would leave you feeling gloomy because you had to say goodbye to your favorite person. You never knew when Sanemi would come back. He never told you exactly what his job was; or where he worked. So you had only blank spaces that you had to fill in with your own imagination. You were up for the challenge, anyway.

“No,” He smiles at you, a sight you could never get tired of. Sanemi had a different type of beauty; it was endearing to watch. “I decided to stop.”

You can help but open a huge smile after hearing that, “That’s good news!”

It was the little details that transformed him into someone special; not only his beauty was captivating but the way he carried himself, tall and strong. You liked to hear whatever he had to say because it was always interesting. It wasn't half assed excuses or lies most people — most men — would tell you on a daily basis.

There was something else about him; about his scars; about his mysterious past that you felt drawn to, like a fly is drawn to the light. You could only hope one day you would be able to sail on those mysterious waters without sinking after the first storm.

“Well, it’s time to close...” An idea crosses your mind, and like everything you have been doing lately, you don't give a second thought, you don't hesitate. It flows out of your mouth as easily as breathing “But why don’t you come sit with me before you go?”

Sanemi raises a brow at you, and you laugh at his hesitation. Without wasting any more time, you grab his muscular arm and pull him off of the bar stool, heading to the stage. You often find yourself taking the first step yet again; it was rare the times where he would seek out for you. In the beginning, it would make you second doubt everything you said or did, worrying that he didn't like you.

However, it wasn't that he didn't like you, he just didn't know what to do; because everytime you pulled him to do something or talked to him, he would gladly follow, never complaining — unless you asked him to help clean the restaurant, that he would complain, a lot.

“Have you ever played piano before?” The floor of the stage creaks under your steps, not used to have more than one person standing over it. You sit down on the bench, tapping the small space beside you. It was tight, but it would work.

“No…” Sanemi stands behind the bench with his arms crossed over his chest, still unsure about what you were doing. You angrily tap the space beside you as a warning.

He lets out a loud sigh before coming to sit next to you - you knew he only did that to appear tough; it was too easy to see that he wasn't really annoyed. Sitting by your side, his thigh completely touching yours sends a shiver down your spine; instantly coloring red your cheeks, and you have to shut down the thoughts that were starting to rise in the back of your mind.

“My grandmother used to say that sometimes music is even more powerful than words,” You say, fingers hovering over the keys. If there was one thing that you would never stop talking about it, it was her. Somehow it felt like she was still alive, remembering her so tenderly. “She would just play away her thoughts and feelings, it was fascinating to watch.”

When Sanemi looks at you, there's a strange fog in his eyes, clouding his view; as if the weather had closed and it was about to rain. It stirs something inside you, an odd feeling that you knew all too well. Sometimes you would catch him staring at nothing, with the same clouded stare.

You knew that something had happened in the past and he was still grieving over it, not only he had told you that night, but every time you talked about your grandmother he would react the same way. You could only hope that your company was enough to distract him from those feelings.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” You offer, showing him the keyboard, for now this would have to be enough.

“Me?” His voice has a hint of hesitance. You nod, encouraging him with a smile and a tap on his shoulder.

He looks at you, to the piano, then to you again. It was amusing to watch, a grown up man afraid of touching simple keys. Although, to be very honest, when you started playing you would feel completely intimidated with the size and the sounds it would make. But what was most intimidating was the amount of work you had to put to actually learn how to play by yourself. It took you some years to finally overcome that fear of failure before jumping head first.

He touches one key, but there’s almost no sound coming from it since he didn't put too much force on it; when you hesitate to touch the keys is when you first start to fail. He tries again, but this time, his finger slips and touches another key, the combination has you two flinching. You bite your lips as he continues to touch random keys; making a rather interesting combination.

“You’re laughing.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Sanemi sighs and retreats his hand, looking defeated, “I’m not made for this shit.”

“Oh shut up, here.”

You gently hold his hand; skin warm under your touch. He doesn't complain about your boldness, so you keep going, putting his hand over the keyboard again, lightly tapping his index finger over a key so he would play the note. It’s a slow process, having to move at a pace that would allow the movement, but the opportunity of holding his hand is worth every minute. In the end, you two played the beginning of an easy song.

“See, it’s not that hard,” You say, letting go of his hand. “It’s all about feeling it.” Your face is warm for some reason. And Sanemi is still staring at the piano, and you could swear that his ears are a little bit red.

“I’m shit at feelings,” He confesses, rubbing his neck.

Well, you couldn't argue with that. He definitely semeed like someone who would rather show than say, but that’s the beauty in people right? Learning with mistakes, growing with the years as you grasp the nuances of reality and the world around you.

“We all have to start from somewhere, right?” You smile at him, bumping his shoulder.

Sanemi laughs, and doesn't miss the opportunity to bump your shoulder slightly harder, making you almost fall off the bench. He laughs even harder when you try to push him off but don't get even close to move a single inch of his body. However, you wouldn't give up so easily.

The small fight ends when Sanemi accidentally hits his elbow on the keyboard, making a loud noise that has you two jumping and your mother appearing from the kitchen yelling that it's already too late. The smirk on his face doesn't go away though.

IV.

The festival was even prettier this year. The paper lamps shining on top of the buildings give an ethereal feeling to the scenario; the sakura’s trees were adorned with ribbons of all colors, petals flying around in a beautiful dance while the night was captured by the anticipation for the fireworks. However, that wasn't the only reason.

Seated next to you, was Sanemi. His hair reflecting the colored lights from the lamps only made him radiate beauty; they danced across the white canvas. His face looked so peaceful, there was not a single wrinkle on his forehead as he ate the food you had prepared for the night. For a moment you forgot he was really there with you. It all seemed part of a dream, but not even your dreams could come up with such a dazzling view.

To say that you were surprised when he invited you to come with him to the festival, was an understatement. It took you so long to process the information that he thought you had denied; and it was almost a battle to make him believe that yes, you really wanted to go with him, and no, you only hesitated because you were caught off guard. Truth be told, a few days had passed and you still couldn't believe. Not even now, when you were looking at him from the corner of your eyes.

It also took you long hours of begging and whining for him to tell you that his favorite food was ohagi. You couldn't believe how silly he acted when he told you; almost as a kid, stomping his feet and all. You tried your best not to laugh, but failed miserably, which only made him even more embarrassed. When he left, you had your hair all messy but the smile on your face didn't disappear for the rest of the night.

You had prepared everything in anticipation, counting the days and hours to this moment. Your father gave you a day off only for this occasion — he would never admit, but after the white haired man had helped fix a few things in the restaurant, lending a hand whenever they needed, he came to like Sanemi.

Your mother happily helped you prepare the ohagi and a few other things for the festival. Even suggested buying new clothes for you, which you denied. It wasn't a date, at least he didn't say it was. You were only keeping him company, right? Oh hell, who were you trying to fool? You wanted this to be a date so bad.

The spot Sanemi chose was near the lake. As you looked around you noticed that there were reflections of the lamps on the water; like an infinite mirror, you could find stars in the sky or down there on earth, even in Sanemi's eyes. An infinity of beauty surrendering you, bouncing around like shooting stars; all you could do was close your eyes and make a wish.

“I don't know, just…” You trailed off, thinking about his question, “You only die when you are forgotten, memories can keep you alive throughout the decades, don't you think?”

“You sound awfully like someone I know.” He throws his head back with a smirk on his face, drinking the sake.

He had promised it was only because of the festival, just for fun. And you didn't need him to promise that he wasn't drinking anymore, because you believed. You trusted him enough to know that he knew what he was doing. Also, you had seen his journey, there was no need to be reassured when you knew by heart.

“Hmm, I bet they are wise and smart!” The sake tastes strong on your mouth, but you didn't mind. It wasn't often that you drank, but the feeling was nice and very welcomed.

“No, actually he’s a really annoying brat,” Sanemi chuckles, “But you aren't annoying.” He confesses, and if it wasn't too dark you could see a hint of red on his cheeks.

“But am i still a brat?” You raise a brow at his direction. The smirk on his face tells you everything.

“Don't you dare finish that sentence or else there's no ohagi for you anymore.” You try narrowing your eyes as a threat, but the tiny smile tugging on the corner of your lips is enough to give you away.

Sanemi’s smirk is still visible even in the low light, it has become a trademark of him by now, the curl on the corner of his lips, the chuckles that would follow after. And you would take notes of each of his mannerisms, remember every word, pay attention to what he liked and mostly what made him angry. Even if he wasn't someone that talked about himself in general, you had your own way to find out about him.

He picks another ohagi, and you watch him as he takes a bite, humming in delight. It makes your heart warm, your skills with cooking finally paying off for something else rather than just for the restaurant. Watching him eat your food and liking it hits you differently than anything else. You take another sip of sake, the drink burning a little as it goes down your throat is a welcomed feeling.

“Genya,” Sanemi suddenly says. You look at him confused; the smirk long gone, replaced by the same melancholy look that would everytime cloud his eyes, “It was my little brother’s name.” He explains.

You look down at your hands holding the cup, contemplating. It was the first time Sanemi ever spoke about his family, his past. Even knowing him for quite some time now, even after becoming his friend, building a relationship with him from scratch and turning into something you can’t see yourself without it; his past was never brought up. Moreover, you truly believe he was a good man, there was no need to open old wounds only to satisfy your curiosity.

“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” You immediately ensure him, touching his shoulder.

The last thing you wanted was him feeling like he owed you an explanation. Yes, you wanted to know, of course you did. Because you wanted to help, pick his pieces and put them back together, Sanemi wasn't a broken man, not entirely - he still had a bright and beautiful light inside him, it was only obscured with a few debris, leftover of a hurricane that he never recovered from.

“It’s fine…” He’s gazing at the lake, mind elsewhere, far from reality, “I feel like I’ve been mourning for so long that I can't think about anything else.”

It breaks your heart seeing him like this, even harder than the night when you found him crying in the alleway. Because now you knew him, his name, his personality, his favorite food. Because now you held him so close to your heart that you were afraid of crushing it. Because you cared, more than anything.

“But that’s why we struggle. It never goes away,” Your hand shifts from his shoulder, running down his back, caressing with small movements. Almost embracing him with one arm. “It only gets easier.”

Sanemi goes quiet after that, closing his eyes. But you keep rubbing his back, face so close to his that you could see the difference of the skin that healed and formed his scars; the texture is rougher in contrast with the rest of his face.

“Were you there? When it happened?” You find yourself asking. There are sirens going off in your head. Yet, you can’t stop. It’s an intense feeling of yearning. If you could only understand, just a little bit; having a glimpse of what the man was so hurt by it, then maybe you could help put his former self back together. That’s all you wanted.

“Yes,” His voice breaks a little, words caught on his throat. He squeezes his eyes, closing his hands in a fist. However, he doesn't flinch nor say anything. So, instead of retreating, you put your other hand on his arm, the other still gently caressing his back.

“He… He said I was the sweetest person in the world,” He whispers, placing his hand over yours, “Shit, I wasn’t even a good brother, I treated him badly, I pushed him away. I don’t deserve his words.”

“But he forgave you in the end,” You quickly say before he would go down on a spiraling hate towards himself, words flooding your mouth before you could stop, “He could have said anything, and he chose to let you know that you were still loved by him, even after everything.”

You didn't know what everything actually meant, there were still so many blank spaces that needed to be filled for you to fully understand the man beside you. However, you knew one thing: blaming yourself was so much easier than forgiving.

“Fuck… I don’t,” He tries, the grip in your hand a little bit too tight, but you don't pay any attention. All your focus was on his expression, his words, “I wanted him to be happy, to get married and have a family. And now…”

“Sanemi…” The look on his face is devastating, defeated.

He had probably held all these emotions for so long, all these words of regret and shame, kept inside his heart and let it loose on his mind; torturously haunting him at each step he took. Now you understood why he had resorted to alcohol. The pain in his words touches your heart, making it quiver under it.

“Please, don't blame yourself. We can't choose which path people are going to take, it’s out of our hands.”

Silence falls between you two, but it isn't uncomfortable. And you are more than happy to sit there and hold him close, trying your best to show through actions how much you cared about him. If your words couldn't do the job, at least you hoped your touch was reassuring him. At least, it worked for you — every time your grandfather patted your head was enough to remember to keep going, even when the longing was too much.

“You deserve to be happy, Sanemi,” There were so many things you wanted to say, but you couldn't find the right words, “Your brother wouldn’t want any less, right?”

You hold his calloused hands in your small ones, slender fingers touching and tracing his scars, feeling the roughness of it. Since the first time you saw him, It had awakened something inside you; something about his hands, arms, his chest, his face, drawn with a pattern that made him so fascinating and interesting, traced with stories of pain and joy; a map that you couldn't help but want to explore every inch of it.

“This world is cold and we are desperately fighting to be heard, to be seen.” Because it was the truth. Every day when you open your eyes; every day when you close them; each day is a small battle you need to live through. “Being alone in a place like this it’s just cruel.”

You don't know what possessed you at the moment, but when you realized, your lips had touched his skin, planting a gentle kiss, overflowed with affection, on his fingers.

“That’s why I’ll be here for you, whenever you need me.”

The first firework explodes behind Sanemi, lighting him in an endearing aura that takes your breath away. Although, you can’t hear them; your heartbeat is even louder in your ears. His face is so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath against your skin. His hand comes to rest on your chin, squeezing slightly. He tilts your head in his direction and you close your eyes.

Then, he kisses you.

#sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #sometimes i write

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soup-du-silence · 4 years ago

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Have you seen the penultimate episode of Season 3 of Ducktales yet, and if so, what did you think about what we learnt about Magica in it? How do you think if might have affected Lena had the show gone on for longer? I'm sure no matter what, her family and friends will be there to help her process whatever's on her mind.

yes, and it was infuriating lol. The magica stuff was the only good thing about it imo.

So, I dont know. I liked the magica stuff. I dont know if it was particularly enlightening so much as I thought it was just interesting because I love magica (or: i loved her in season 1 and thought she was fascinating and had a lot of potential) and have long wanted to get some backstory on her. I really would have liked to have seen more, or had this happen earlier in the show to give it time to develop or inform some of the other decisions regarding the magica-lena arc.

The shows handling of lena has been so bad that I cant even begin to guess what knowing about Poe would have meant for her. Season 3 has been particularly egregious. Webby and Violet convincing Lena to go to Magica for advice and training was one of the most bizarre missteps the show had pulled, and they’ve fucked up a lot, honestly. This should never have happened, imo, and Webby especially should never have suggested it.

I used to wonder about a version of events where Poe was Lena’s mentor , where he and Magica weren’t on good terms and he saw in Lena a little of himself and wanted to help her heal from her abuse, or, at least, commiserate and acknowledge it as a shared experience. He would help her come to terms with who and what she is, and she wouldn’t hate it so much, if she could apply a better association to her power/origin. I dont know if that would have better than what we got in the phantom and the sorceress, but I feel like it has to be, because that episode stunk.

we didnt get that, obviously.

(I dont mind that Lena found a family in a wholly unrelated cast of characters, it be that way sometimes. except that we were never given that story up front. we never got to see Lena adjusting to her new home and family, we never got to see her slowly learn to trust them, or adjust to being warm and fed and cared for. we never got to see her have the revelation that the venn diagram of family and relation is not a circle. we should have. at the very least, it should have been mentioned or explained in some capacity. we had two very weak context clues and word of god. they never had a plan for lena after season 1 and it shows.)

on twitter, Humphreys talks a little about what he imagines for Poe. i could see a version of events where Poe is still around and maybe his mind has resurfaced and maybe the experience has been humbling and he’s managed to chill out a little, whereas magica has been consumed and mad with grief and revenge for (mumble) years. I could see that version of poe recognizing a miniature clone of his sister and being curious about her. idk. its wholly possible she would never have trusted him and cutting off the de spell lineage altogether might have been best in the end. its a coinflip for me. I think cutting yourself off from your blood relations and choosing your own family is necessary sometimes, but I also think that in lena’s case, I wish she had had a better alternative to going back to her abuser specifically and having a wacky, comedic training montage in order to understand how she works and what to expect from her powers. poe would have been a valid alternative to that.

unrelated but since we’re on the subject: I had said on twitter that I thought this flashback featuring Magica and Poe should have happened when they were Lena’s age, or slightly older. I think it would have added....something. Imagine: Petulant, power-drunk children bending the world to their will simply because they have the power to get what they want. They have no parents (by their won hand?) and only have each other. Some old fart shows up to pick a fight with them, and Magica turns Poe into a raven in the fray. She’s now like, 13, power-mad, and without the only person she loves or trusts in the world. Scrooge just peaces out on this grief-stricken, dangerous kid to let her fend for herself, and let her young grudge fester for a few hundred years. I mean, that is basically how it already happened, but the fact that they’re grown makes them less sympathetic. (I think it is not out of the question that they WERE probably like this as kids. they act like overgrown children, people who grew up getting exactly what they want all the time. this power wasnt something they came into recently, they’ve had it since they were young.) I just think it would have been interesting. How did this effect how magica perceives lena? does she see herself in lena and hate it? does she regret her childish behavior, the reason she lost poe? we kept waiting for “they’ll call you a monster” to pay off. did it come from her youth? when she was alone, and afraid, and a monster?

shrug. the magica arc could have been something really great.

#ducktales #Anonymous

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handonshipper · 4 years ago

Text

If I Knew Then What I Know Now: Chapter Three

Hope headed downstairs after putting her father to sleep. The voices in her head caused by the Hollow were getting to her. It was getting harder and harder to manage. The most relief she had gotten since she took in the Hollow's magic again was when she was spending time with the waiter from the Mystic Grill, Landon Kirby, yesterday. Something about being around him was different. A little distracting at least. But she was dangerous to be around right now, and she knew it. Which was why she did not consider going to find him.

The tribrid wondered what exactly the waiter was doing in New Orleans, her home town. Was it merely a coincidence or something more? She felt drawn to trust Landon and felt comfortable around him, but she had also recently been betrayed by Roman, her ex boyfriend, which resulted in her mother's death. At the thought of this, the voices grew, and she struggled to ignore them. She breathed out slowly and entered Rousseau's bar. "Declan, hey, I need a favor from the bar." Suddenly her body froze as she spotted a familiar face, her anger flaring up again. Elijah Mikaelson. Her uncle. "What are you doing here? Killing my mom wasn't enough? Now you've come for Declan?"

"That's not what I'm here for." Elijah disagreed, but Hope didn't care. She just wanted to be angry at him. To not let her own guilt sink in. It was painful enough the brief moment it had while she was with Landon. It was easier for her to be angry with Elijah instead of facing all of it. And the voices in her head certainly weren't helping.

"He killed her" Declan said, stunned.

"That's not what happened." Elijah defended

"No, but if you weren't there, she'd still be alive." Hope said, and her rage fueled the voices, causing then only to get louder and louder. She clutched her head. "Stop! God, stop!"

"What's going on with you?" Declan asked, confused and concerned at what was happening to her. He moved to go towards her but stopped as Elijah grabbed his arm.

"Stop! Shut up! Shut up!" Hope shouted. Their voices certainly weren't helping the situation.

"What did you do?" Declan interrogated Elijah. Elijah grabbed him by the neck and pinned him up against the bar.

"Hey, don't hurt him!" Hope said, moving closer, momentarily distracted from the voices by the scene before her.

"I won't. We can't do this in front of him."

"Okay, fine." She waved her hand and put Declan to sleep. The human then fell to the floor. "Now it's just the two of us."

"My memory was gone. I didn't know who she was."

Considering everything the tribrid was feeling at the moment, that wasn't a good enough excuse. "Well, now you do. How does it feel?"

"Like the worst pain I've ever experienced."

The whispers got more intense in her head, and she put her hands on her head and looked around a little, trying to force away the voices. She lowered her hands and looked at her uncle. "I hate you."

"I hate me, too." Elijah said, self loathing obvious in his eyes.

Hope knew she shouldn't blame him, but right now she needed to be angry with someone, and it was easy to be angry with him. "You let her die." In a flash of rage, consumed by emotions and the hollow's magic, Hope waved a hand, cutting him magically repeatedly as though she was clawing into him until he collapsed

"Hope" spoke a familiar voice, but the tribrid didn't give herself a chance to process who the voice belonged to. In a flash of rage, she waved her hand back and caused a deep gash across the person that entered. "Hope" the voice repeated, though now it had a groan, and the tribrid suddenly realized who the voice belonged to.

Landon Kirby.

Landon was walking down the street as he thought about everything that happened. He wanted to make sure Hope was alright. He hadn't seen her since the day before. But he also did not want to interact with her, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew that he was no longer the same Landon Kirby he had been before he melted into a pile of goo. Before he had been sent to Malivore and lived what felt like years in complete isolation, Before he had to fight monsters in the prison world to survive.

He knew he was darker, fought with both brawn and brain. He attacked first and didn't let himself worry about the consequences. He just needed to fight and kill. That had been his mindset for the past several weeks since he got out of Malivore. And now he was here, surrounded by people.... It was a lot, and he wasn't sure that he could manage it well enough not to end up being a burden on Hope or anyone else.

Suddenly, he heard Hope's voice from inside Rousseau's as he neared it. "Stop! Shut up! Shut up! Hey, don't hurt him!" There was a little bit of a pause "You let her die!"

A concerned Landon Kirby stepped into Rousseau's and called out her name to get her attention. "Hope" Suddenly, without really paying attention to who it was, Hope waved a hand back. Suddenly, a large gash cut across Landon's chest magically, and he stumbled back a bit, leaning against the wall as blood started soaking his shirt. "Hope" he repeated, groaning a little in pain. This wasn't a wound he could exactly stitch up.

"Landon?" Hope questioned, her eyes widening in horror at what she had done. "Oh god" she said as Landon slowly slid to the ground, putting pressure to his own wound. She grabbed something sharp from nearby and cut her palm. "Here, drink this", she said, putting it near his mouth but not on it.

Landon shook his head, not wanting to risk being sent back to Malivore. He wasnt sure what exactly happened. But he also didn't want to take any chances.

"It can heal you. Drink" Hope said, looking at him, her eyes wide in concern.

Landon shook his head again. "Not you" he said, forcing back a groan of pain

A hurt expression flickered across her face, and she moved her hand away. He could see her wound closing up. Her uncle, Elijah, was healing from his own wounds at the moment.

"Hope. What happened?" Klaus questioned, walking inside the bar.

"I uh. I attacked Elijah, and Landon came in. And I accidentally hurt him too" Hope said. "And he's refusing to drink my blood. I don't know why. I told him it would help"

Klaus walked over and bit his own wrist before feeding it to Landon forcefully. Landon drank some of the hybrid's blood. He coughed some of it up, anxious about how vampire blood would affect him. But the blood already started to heal him. His eyes drifted shut and Landon lost consciousness.

Hope was pacing downstairs in the Mikaelson home, trying to keep herself calm and have as much control over the whispers as she could. It had died down after she hurt Elijah. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been before. But she knew it was only temporary. She looked up as her father came downstairs after putting Landon.

"How is he?" She asked immediately.

"He's alright, just sleeping. He's getting a bit feverish, but it's mild." Klaus said, looking at his daughter. "Who is he?"

"His name is Landon, and he's human. He, uh, he used to serve me milkshakes at the Mystic Grill. He took a trip here. I'm not sure how long he is staying. He says it depends on if he has reasons to stay."

"What was that? You won't take my help, you reject the bracelet, you're throwing Elijah around" Klaus said, looking at his daughter with worry.

"It stopped the voices." the tribrid admitted, trying not to sound as vulnerable as she felt.. She had all of this power and she knew it was killing her. And the voices were so intense, part of her wanted to scream and take out all of New Orleans to feel better.. But she didn't want to hurt people. She never wanted that. It was why she worked hard to control her magic so she never used too much. Never used more than necessary for a given occasion. Though she hadn't exactly been following her own rules lately.

Her father looked at her, stunned "What?"

"Ever since I took the power back, the whispers... I can't think, I can't sleep, I can't even breathe. But right now, it's silent. Is this the rest of my life? A rage that can only be quieted by violence?"

"Hope, if violence is what you need to feel better, then you have the perfect father. We'll handle this. In the meantime, you should probably keep your distance from your friend. Landon"

"I was thinking the same thing." Hope said, looking at him. "Thank you for bringing him here and making sure he was alright."

"You're welcome" Klaus said.

"I saw Landon yesterday" she said, trying to talk to him before the voices grew too loud again. "We talked for a bit, and I showed him around New Orleans"

"You could manage it? The voices?"

"It was... I don't know, easier around him. I can't explain it. It was still there and bothersome but it wasn't as bad. I have no idea why" Hope said as she followed her father upstairs to her room. "I thought I could handle it. I really did."

"You're handling it as best you can, and I'm gonna be here with you every step of the way." Klaus promised as he looked at his daughter.

"Will you stay with me awhile?"

"Of course I will. So do you like this boy?"

Hope was silent for a moment, but she was grateful for the focus on Landon instead of the voices constantly in her head. "Even if I did, it doesn't matter"

"What makes you say that?" Klaus questioned curiously.

"My last love interest betrayed me. I dont think I am exactly the right person to be dating"

"The first person I was truly involved with is currently under a sleeping spell in this very building." Klaus pointed out with a slight smile. "Do you like this boy"

"Yes. But I can't think about a relationship" Hope said. She never would be able to. She could feel herself dying. It wasnt fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to get involved with anyone while she was dying. Though she couldnt exactly say that to her father. "He's human. Our family gets ourselves involved in a lot of dangerous situations. And mom just-" She shook her head

"Your mother would want you to be happy"

"I know she would." the tribrid said simply but she had already made up her mind. She wanted Landon to be safe. Not be killed like Camille, Hayley, Jackson, and many others had been while close to their family. If he was genuinely as nice of a guy as he seemed, then she definitely didn't want to ruin his life, which is probably exactly what she would do if her family got involved with him. Invaded his life. He already got hurt because of her. Hope wasn't sure she could avoid that happening again if he didn't leave.

Hope was confused on why he was pushing her to be in a relationship, especially after how he reacted whenever anyone else got in a relationship. However, after looking at him for a moment, she recognized the reasoning from his expression. He wanted her to have hope. To find something to live for and to look forward to. Something to fight for besides family.

#legacies #cw legacies #legacies cw #hope mikaelson #landon kirby #klaus mikaelson #legacies fanfic #legacies fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #handon #hope x landon #landon x hope #If I Knew Then #if i knew then what i know now #if i knew then chapter three #if i knew then what i know now chapter three

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foulserpent · 4 years ago

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ned has the most fleshed out history of any of my OCs. i typed it out over the past couple of days, theres some stufff missing but its over 2000 words as is.

here is neds life story prior to the oblviion crisis

ned was born in a village near falinesti’s summer rooting site. his father died before ned was born, and ned was raised by his mother and various farmhands in the community.

his mother was a farmer (though she had a shady past he was always peripherally aware of but never privy to), and they raised hogs and chickens for milk/meat/eggs and would be part of falenesti’s supply chain every year. niviiran also lived nearby, and the two were close friends throughout their childhood and adolescence.

“nasty ned” was in fact his birth name and a name he continued to use, though going by the latter part. he was never able to find out why his mother named him that. the name came in handy, given that ned is transgender and already had a fairly “masculine” name. he was recognized as a boy since he was around 10, but his mother was unable to afford the hormone replacement potions until his later teens.

when ned was 16, he started taking jobs at falenesti, mostly as a bouncer at its taverns. he had been a bit of a nervous child before that and to this day isnt sure why he chose that line of work, but it toughened him up considerably.

when he was about 20, his friend niviiran was being heavily pressured into marrying off to secure her family’s inherited silk business. niviiran saw this as the only chance to escape her emotionally abusive parents, and proposed the notion of entering into a (false) marriage with ned until she could get away. he agreed, both desiring to help his friend and hoping to benefit from niviiran’s far wealthier parents.

during this time, he had his first Actual intimate relationship, but it only lasted about a week. he had picked up a girlfriend at his job, but being emotionally immature and a bit of a dick, he thought that he did not need to inform her that he was TECHNICALLY married, since the marriage was fake and him and niv both did not mind. she left when he found out.

this marriage fell apart within a year, largely as a result of ned panicking and letting it slip while drunk at a gathering with niv’s family. this caused a huge commotion mostly directed at him (and was worsened by his continued panicking), and culminated in niviiran’s brother beating him and attempting to run him over with a horse as he fled. his leg was badly crushed and was saved by his mother.

though their marriage was fake, niviiran and ned had a real falling out as a result of this. both obviously felt bad for the harm to the other, but niv was very angry at ned for having let it slip and putting her in the position of having to run away from her controlling parents rather than leave freely. ned at the time was surprised and hurt that she was so mad, having taken her friendship for granted, and responded in kind. they separated angrily and did not see each other again after that point, and the way he treated niv is one of his first and biggest regrets.

after his leg was mostly healed, he decided he wanted to leave valenwood, at least for a while. he had developed some skill as a bodyguard, and managed to get himself hired to guard a merchant caravan that looped through valenwood, elsweyr, and cyrodiil. this was the time where he really came into his own in mercenary type fields, learning to use swords/shields/armor and how to hold his own against much larger foes. he also learned how to cook at this time, and had his first boyfriend. this relationship was not serious and did not last past ned’s contract with the caravan, but was significant and fondly remembered.

he chose not to continue as a caravan guard, and became interested in mercenary work instead. he joined up with cyrodiil’s fighters guild, and spent the next decade or so working for them. late in this period, he was subcontracted out to mainland morrowind on a longterm job as a hired guard. during this time, he met and began a relationship with yaksha gra-dralas, a morag tong agent. their relationship lasted about three years until ned’s contract ended. it was somewhat serious, but neither felt it was working out well enough to continue (and neds ass was too small). they went their separate ways, and ned returned to cyrodiil.

ned continued working for the fighters guild for an indeterminite amount of years, culminating in the events of oblivions fighters guild questline occurring. when ned was demoted for the death of the guildmaster’s son that he had nothing to do with, he decided that the guild was going to shit and that he was leaving. he resigned, and spent a few years hiring himself out independently as a mercenary or whatever else was paying.

eternally bad at settling, he became unsatisfied and decided to move again. he moved to vvardenfell, where he would live for the next 30 years or so. during this time, he joined their chapter of the fighters guild, took many odd jobs, and became more radicalized against the empire than he had already been (which was a lot).

notably, in the latter half of his time there, he met the disowned son of a hlaalu nobleman named ondryn. he and ondryn were assigned together on a longterm fighters guild job out in the wilderness, and began a relationship that would last a decade. it was ned’s longest relationship, and also the first one that he seriously considered the possibility of being permanent and settling with. he had loved all his partners before this, but ondryn was very special to him and brought out something much more serious in him.

it was this relationship that would also lead to ned’s involvement with daedric cults. ondryn was dissident against the tribunal and a follower of azura, boethiah, and mephala. this was just casual everyday worship, but the two joined an active sect of boethiah worshippers (at least partially trying to impress each other). ned had never been religiously motivated and believed that gods were not owed worship any more than anyone else, but was drawn to the “good daedra” for their seemingly mutually beneficial relationship with mortals.

ned was never the most devoted of boethiah’s sect, but through skill and luck he continuously proved himself worthy, and eventually was challenged to and won a tournament of 10 bloods. he was granted a title as champion of boethiah, and bestowed with the artifact goldbrand.

for a while, he proved himself worthy by continuing to maintain his position and defeat any challenger who came his way. but at one point, he was successfully kidnapped along with a fellow boethiah worshipper to be sacrificed to molag bal. he managed to free himself of his binds and escape, and came back with reinforcements to slaughter the rest of molag bal’s faithful, but it was too late for his friend.

this was the first decidedly traumatic incident of his life, and marked the beginning of a slow downturn of his life and his mental health. he was wracked with guilt at having left his friend to die, and was beginning to realize he wasnt really cut out for the whole champion of boethiah thing, rightfully fearing that he had lost favor for this weakness. in a stupid move (that would turn out smart in the long run in bargaining for his soul back), he kept goldbrand but fled with ondryn from the cult, ghosting boethiah and just hoping it wouldnt come back to bite him.

the blight was also worsening in vvardenfell at this point, with things beginning to get pretty scary. ned had repeatedly expressed desire for him and ondryn to flee vvardenfell, but the latter saw all this as just another crisis that would pass with time, and ned accepted this. around the time of the beginning of morrowind’s events, ondryn fell sick after an encounter with one of the ash creatures from red mountain. when it became obvious and undeniable that it was corprus, ondryn resigned himself to dying and asked of ned to help him be properly cremated and interred in his family tomb. all of ondryn’s living relatives had disowned him, but he still desired to be buried in his rightful place.

agreeing to this was the hardest thing ned had ever done. ondryn said goodbye and took poison, and ned was left alone to burn and lay his body to rest. he almost couldnt bring himself to do it, but eventually succeeded. after it was done, ned remained in the tomb for a few days, catatonic and just waiting to see if he would show symptoms himself. when it became clear that he had not contracted corprus, he considered suicide but became disgusted with himself and decided against it.

he remained in vvardenfell for a short while after this, but when his beloved guar (“jelly”) passed away of old age (mercifully peacefully), he decided enough was enough, and returned to cyrodiil. he had a couple of brief encounters with a person who he would later learn was the nerevarine, and left only weeks before the defeat of dagoth ur.

upon returning to cyrodiil, he was in a rut. he had become near-broke, had newly acquired mental health issues, had a constant fear of boethiah sending prospective champions after him, and had nothing to do with himself. he settled into the imperial city waterfront as a squatter, and attempted to join the thieves guild, but failed the initiation. desperate, he began thieving on his own, sometimes doing jobs for others and sometimes just to have money to get by.

he took a very large risk in agreeing to steal and imperial watch captain’s heirloom sword, and was captured in the act. he resisted arrest and injured the captain, and the captain personally intervened to get him a much steeper sentence than he otherwise would have. he was put into the imperial city prison for a few weeks, before being transferred to the arena and being put to work as a gladiator.

this was essentially a death sentence, with no determined ending besides dying in the arena. he met shap-mota here, a bard who had been blamed for a string of brutal assaults in spite of being pretty unquestionably Not the culprit. the two of them had an intimate relationship throughout this time, and struck up a friendship, but they were under a painful and unusual situation and it could not really be called a romantic relationship.

for a time, ned was managing well. he managed to get some serious dirt on one of the guard captains and effectively blackmail him. he wasnt able to secure his freedom, but was able to force his hand into giving him his sword (goldbrand) back and giving him and shap a bit more leeway as prisoners. having goldbrand is likely the only reason he survived and won all his death matches, but his uncooperativeness and humiliation of a few of the guards gave them a massive grudge.

after about 5 months, shap narrowly won a match, but had been gravely injured in the process and collapsed. ned last saw him being dragged out from the arena, and never saw anything that would indicate shap being alive, and had to assume he died. things got really bad after that, with ned having no buffer against the ire of the guards and other prisoners. he lost his blackmailing opportunity (though was allowed to keep goldbrand, due to the crowd loving his signature flaming sword) and was given absolutely terrible treatment from his captors.

he became incredibly disgusted with being forced to kill other prisoners and enraged at challengers who fought willingly. as he rose in the ranks, he was kept going by not knowing what else to do and by a grim satisfaction at murdering people who willingly chose to be combatants. this was very traumatizing.

ned achieved champion rank, though he almost lost his final match. his opponent disarmed him and instead of killing him, gloated and slashed at him with goldbrand, ripping his abdomen open and giving him his biggest scars. ned managed to take him by surprise and kill his opponent before passing out from shock and blood loss.

he woke up a day later to find he had been released. evidently, no one expected him to live that long and it was decided he might as well be let go. ned already had trauma to deal with, but was suddenly experiencing very unusual and new symptoms (which was ptsd and an anxiety disorder) that he had no idea what to do with. he was also convinced that his challenger was there on boethiah’s behalf, though he cant be sure of that, and the fear of being killed and left to the daedra who probably owned his soul took hold of him again.

he had been given some prize money, and he collected himself and left. he moved into kvatch, and rented an attic from some dunmer in exchange for proofreading his stupid “opus” about him killing all the cliff racers or whatever.

ned spent a few years in a haze, kind of just drifting through life, getting into shit here and there. there was an “incident” involving the towns blacksmith at the general store, and he was not arrested but was considered to owe a favor to the town’s watch captain due to the chaotic results that few dare to speak of.

this favor was finally cashed in when kvatch was burnt down by mehrune’s dagons invasion force and they needed someone to try and close the gate, and lo and behold here comes ned “owes a favor” nasty and some argonian from out of town who just kind of wandered in.

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shyrose57 · 4 years ago

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Brothers anon back again. I had a sort of writers block for the last like 2 days which made it really hard to do some questions, but I got em done finally. Sorry about the wait. This one is split between the numbered questions, and next ask is the other questions you asked!

I think I accidentally skipped a question in the last one. I honestly don't completely remember but in case I did skip it by mistake, the groups first travel out of the city's limits and even further beyond in a carriage. When they reach the end of how far the driver is willing to go they then get out and start walking. With Jackie screaming about how their finally going on a adventure.

1: It thankfully doesn't get to to bad before the others notice. And he immediately told them about Dream, wanting to be very clear with what happened and what they where getting themselves into. But they accepted him anyway and helped him.

2: Isaac is the leader cause Cletus is too much of a wildcard and too impulsive to lead safely, Charles is too shy to lead, and while Benjamin is perfect for leading he doesnt really like leading and is more of a follower than a leader. But Isaac can joke around and gets along with everyone but also be able to take things seriously and know when something needs to be handled.

5: They do not, they last for a few minutes and unless its a healing or regeneration potion (in which it can take a few days for it to fully go away) they have no long lasting affects. They do know of eachothers past to an extent, they know enough to avoid triggers and enough to know what not to do when around eachother. They know through telling eachother, and they feel awful Grievous and Jackie had to deal with that, but leave it in the past and focus on making their current life better.

6: Yes and no, while Jackie did mean to throw it at Ran, he ment for it to just hit nearby him, not directly hit him. It was ment to be more of a scare/intimidation tactic than anything else honestly. Grievous's luck is for basically everything, he has won the lottery twice before actually but only those 2 times, he's correctly guessed how many items are in a container more than a few times as well.

7: I use the height charts and they help mostly for comparison, problem is I have trouble applying it to real world stuff and because of that I still have trouble knowing if something or someone is to tall or short. Jackie can get very mean, like he can make fun of someone who just lost a loved one or experienced a traumatic event at the worst. But he usually doesn't get nearly that mean, most he does normally is making fun of how someone looks or how they do certain things. The others comfort him the best they can when he gets sad, and when he gets mean they either encourage it (Grievous), or discourage it and stop him (Watson. Ran is between either encouraging or discouraging it).

8: He was! He spent most of his life adventuring actually! He misses it somedays now since he lives in Subbin, but he believes giving up his adventuring life for a family and friends who needed him is a more than far trade and would happily pick his family over adventuring again. For around 4 years after Ran left Mizu (including the day he left), Ran traveled everywhere, and learned how to survive himself and taught himself different things, like sewing. Ran has made new socks, fixed clothes, and made blankets for everyone at least once. Watson also designs bows and arrows for show, for top functionality, and for just simple (training) gifts to the others. Ran (and Watson) has visited the nether, though Ran tended to stay in it longer than Watson cause he could withstand the temperatures better. And while digging a new tunnel across the nether he ran into ancient debris, which he then messed with until he figured out to mix it with gold and coat his sword in it. He tried to find more ancient debris but sadly hasn't found any, leaving his sword permanently damaged and at risk of breaking. Jackie isn't good at all at painting, its more of a hobby he's trying out. They try to camp out there at least once a week, where Grievous will sometimes build a pillowfort and either force everyone inside or play a game of capture the fort with them. Sometimes Ran will also read during the pillowfort nights, but not to often. Jackie wants to vist a Snow, Savanna, Jungle, Tagia, and if possible, a Ice Spike biome. He also wants to vist the nether but he'll have to fight Ran on that. Ran and Jackie's secondary titles are in Javanese!

9: Ran just kinda went "Hey Jackie, stand still for a second." "Ok?" And then he just picked him up and threw up.

10: When he's first given dinner after already eaten lunch, he just kinda stares at the food. Then asks if they meant to give him food, and when the others say yes, he asks why because he thought people only ate once every few days. His answer shocked the others and they ask him to explain, and he explains futher that he was only allowed to eat and drink once every 3 days. Their horrified by this answer but explain to him how theres 3 meals a day and he can drink whenever, he doesn't believe them at first but eventually accepts it.

11: When the fishermen first come to Ranbob about their worry, he expresses the same worry as them. But says that it's unlikely Ran will hurt the fishermen specifically, because Rans haunting are already friends with them, and Ran wouldnt risk breaking the friendship unless he deemed it necessary for their safety.

12: Ranbob is sad that Ran goes to such lengths to avoid him and keep people away from him, but he has resigned himself to it. As he knew that if Ran was alive it was greatly unlikely that he would trust him and knew he would be avoided. Which is actually particularly why he believes Ran will never trust him again and why he views Ran as a kind of lost family member. One he'll never get back no matter what he does.

13: Their first stop is a nearby flower biome, and after that Watson has planned to lead them to a waterfall he found with a shattered Savanna somewhat close to it. They plan to travel for a minimum of 6 months, they can actually travel for as long as they want to, but Prokius made them agree that they must be back before the next General Pit Battles (which happens once every 5 years).

14: He would 100% run himself into the ground until he's barely alive while searching for them. Benjamin compares Ranbob wanting to go back to Dream, to an abused person wanting to go back to their abusive lover. They believe they've changed and that they truly do love them and want the best for them, but in reality that's not it at all and others have to help them see thats not true and help them save themselves. So it doesn't surprise Benjamin or Isaac that much (it surprises Charles and Cletus though), and after its explained to them, their all more than willing to help Ranbob get over Dream and help him be himself again.

15: Oh definitely. Once they hear the Green-Eyed Enderman is back from hiding they all set out again, and after the group gets attacked and once word spreads that its in a group and there's another enderman with them, they all get targeted. With the Gladiators and Fishermen being targeted as bait or hostages to try to trick the enderman into following a trap. Ran wasnt affected like his brother was. Im talking about trauma and maybe even a bit of PTSD that came from Mizu, caused by Dream. Though both of the brothers have gained different amounts of trauma and PTSD from Dream. I may give the raven to either Watson or Ran, I think its fits both of them really well. I want to have them come across ruins of other Tales but im not sure which ones. Maybe they could find the remains of the Wild West Tale and the Haunted Mansion?

Glad to see you, Brothers Anon, and excited to read!

1: The perfect start to an Adventure. And a funny mental image. Imagining these two groups cramped into carriages is pretty amusing. How ready was everyone to get out by the time they could?

2: The fishermen are really great, and Ranbob is very lucky. I love them.

3: Isaac sounds like he’s a pretty good fit for it then. But nobody’s perfect! What are some flaws of his, leadership-wise?

5: Interesting. What makes Regeneration and Healing last longer? I suppose it’s not relative to the AU, but I am a bit curious. What’s the world’s potions mechanisms, if you don’t mind me asking? And that’s good! They may not know everything, but they know what to avoid, and that’s important. Everyone’s moved forward and are making the best of life, and honestly, that’s pretty cool of them.

6: Welp, Jackie, it seems intimidation tactic failed. However, you have managed to anger Ran, so..there’s that. He won the lottery? Dang. Well, if they ever need money, they can just send him to the nearest casino, I suppose.

7: Aight, so I may have a solution for you there. Whatever height you’re going for, find something in real life that’s just about the same height. Like a tree, or something. Or not, we can always just leave it at short enough to be tossed and tall enough to be the tosser. Jackie sounds like he knows where to hit to make it hurt, honestly. It’s good that they comfort him, though I am curious why they all react as they do to him being mean. Why does Grievous encourage it? And is it more of a depends on the day thing for Ran, or a depends on what was said to Jackie, and what Jackie’s saying thing?

8: Nice! What kind of places did he go? Does he have any particularly interesting knickknacks from that time period? And Ran personally sounds like he knows what he’s doing. Watson’s weapons sound really cool, where did he learn to make them? Is visiting the Nether not a common occurrence these days? Or is it simply that the others never got around to it before? Well, hobbies are always fun to try. Does Jackie keep at it and get better or get bored and try something else? How does Capture the Fort go with these guys, considering they’re gladiators? Why does Jackie want to visit those particular biomes? Is there a reason, or do they just sound cool to him? And why would Ran not want them going to the Nether? Because of the danger?

9: FDXGHJ- He just- tossed him?? No warning?? Oh my gods, I’m dying. How did Jackie react to that? Heck, how did Porkius react to that? I doubt anyone was expecting that display.

10: Oh, no. Now I really want to punch Dream in the face. What the heck, Dream?! He legit asks if they meant to give him food...If one of the fishermen or gladiators doesn’t eventually find a way to punch Dream, I will be forced to travel realities and do it myself.

11: Kind of sad that Ranbob was equally concerned about it. But hey! He won’t have to be, one day!

12: Poor Ranbob. I hope he’s proven wrong, eventually. Do the fishermen know that he thinks this? If so, how do they feel about it? Or does he kind of just keep those thoughts to himself?

13: Flower biomes are really pretty. What did everyone think about it? Did they bring any flowers with them? So this roadtrip could possibly go on for a few years. Did they leave just after a General Pit Battle, or do they have like, less than five years? Speaking of General, is Jackie still the General in this AU? Does he have extra duties because of it? Or is that not something that happened in this AU?

14: Yikes. Reactions to this? Why does Ranbob believe Dream’s changed, as you put it? Is Dream still able to talk to him, or is it because he just misses being there? So Benjamin and Isaac aren’t all that surprised about it. Do they take the reins in helping out? And how do they all do so? It’s good that they’re helping him though.

15: Well, this sounds like it can’t end well. They try to use the hauntings as bait? Is anyone actually captured? Rescue missions? And alright, that makes a bit more sense. I can see how they’d both be effected differently, and honestly, they’d probably both have very different perspectives of the event, all things considered. Ravens for the win! And it’d be really cool for them to come across the ruins of old Tales buildings. Can you imagine the kind of things they’d find? Diaries, faded photographs, moth-eaten clothes, blood stained floors...Like a walk in the past, but they’ll never know what came to be for the people of that time.

#Brothers AU #dream smp #dream smp au #ranbob #tales from the smp #ran #jackie #watson #grievous #isaac #benjamin #cletus #charles #porkius

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urmomification · 4 years ago

Text

WOOO POG DREAM SMP AU

theres 1.8k words and 9,393 characters of a schlatt au below the cut LMAO

[i was rambling to my friend and this is what came out of it! send me an abt it if u have questions i would love to talk abt it more pls]

(slight body horror/gore tw!!)

slams fists on table rattling any dishes on the table au where schlatt doesnt die of a heartattack and tubbo locks him up to rot basically and his horns grow into his eyes effectively blinding him and chained his hands together and basically a leash on him to keep him from moving around in his cell so he cant do anything to break the horns off before they get too long and one day when technos breaking into lmanberg he gets chased into the prison and loses them in the halls before coming across schlatts cell and schlatts calling out like 'whos there i can hear ur foot steps whos there please someone whos there' etc yk and technos speechless they thought they executed him to keep him from causing any more problems in the country but this is this is just much worse than anything he even thought theyd do and hes standing in front of schlatts cell just looking at him as if hes imagining it he knew lmanberg was bad but holy fuck they just let this man rot in a cell to the point of his own horns blinding him and giving him no aid or way to ease the pain so he makes himself known and schlatt 'ive never been so happy to see, well, hear an anarchist in my life, its good to see- hear you technoblade' and chuckles and blood runs down his face like tears would, few drops landing on his clothes before techno starts trying to get into the cell to take him out of there he cant leave him here sure he was an anarchist terrorist w a murder record but he had standards and now that schlatt wasnt in power he had nothing against him really considering he isnt a citizen of lmanberg so he manages to pick the locks enough to get him out of there, schlatts arm slung over technos shoulder they stumble out of the prison building and as they slowly make their way to the nether portal to get back to technos base, they run into tubbo and quackity, schlatts old right hand men and they try to stop techno bc hes well an anarchist terrorist w a murder record but the glare techno gives them levels them and theyre left staring at each other for a moment when schlatt 'whyre we stopped whos there tech' and techno mumbles 'tubbo and quackity schlatt' and schlatt just furrows his brows as far as he can without sending excruciating pain into his eye sockets before he purses his lips and asks 'are they going to try and stop us?' techno looks back at the other two 'no they wont, isnt that right boys?' tubbo and quackity slink away allowing techno and schlatt to the portal and them going thru, schlatt still silent as he tries not to trip over technos cape or off the ledge of the bridge passing over the lava lakes, they make it to the portal and begin the walk across the arctic tundra to technos house, philza isnt there right now so its just the two of them and techno leads him up the ladder to his room (its not really a room i think its just a bed, a bell and an enchantment table) and sits him down on his bed mumbling something abt being right back and he is with some medical supplies and a change of clothes to clean everything up, they dont talk techno works in silence and when schlatt winces he mumbles a small apology before continuing eventually techno got schlatt as cleaned up as you can get someone w horns in their eyes and a sweater to keep him warm and finally starts asking questions 'how long had u been in there' 'lost count' 'did they bring you food' 'a chests worth at the beginning of the month' techno sighs 'i thought they executed you' 'tubbo chickened out despite me being 'an active threat to our peace in lmanberg' and locked me up a few days after u set the withers loose and dropped off a chest of food once a month and most of them refused to talk to me others couldnt even make eye contact with me, other than the few instances where they said things like 'heres ur food' or 'u deserve this' or 'i cant believe tubbo let u live' i talked to no one other than myself for however long i was in there' techno stands and walks around for a moment before flipping some pages and schlatt can hear him gasp quietly in mild surprise 'what is it tech' looking in the direction he heard techno from and techno says, turning to face schlatt on his bed 'schlatt that was almost 3 months ago' a single beat of silence rings for what feels like forever 'oh. i, i didnt think itd been that long. though it would explain my current predicament' loosely gesturing towards his face 'oh right abt that i have a few questions if ur ready to answer some' schlatt hums and techno grabs a pen and paper and sits next to him in case he needs to take any notes for future reference 'how fast do ur horns normally grow' 'idk just a steady amount my whole life pretty much' 'will they ever stop growing' 'they generally stop growing around 30 and continue to grow more in width than length' 'did anyone who brought u food notice' 'they grow quickly and by the time the person w the third chest came around they were getting close to my eyes but they didnt listen to me, no one did' he sighs looking down at would be his hands 'the odds of both of my horns growing into my eyes and blinding me like this are so low but of course it would happen to me' a chuckle void of any amusement 'because losing my country and my people and my power wasnt enough already' techno stands up 'you had that coming' schlatt actually laughs this time, short and curt 'ok fair, u were the one that took me down afterall' and from then on schlatt lives w techno and phil and eventually tommy and then without tommy (tommy was Not happy when he found out that schlatt was living with techno but he needed somewhere to stay too and techno happens to live in an arctic tundra where only a handful of people know how to get to so he didnt complain too much) and eventually techno saws off schlatts horns at the bend adn removes them from his eyes bc if they kept growing into his head theyd hit his brain and kill him on top of blinding him and techno gags and almost throws up despite not being sensitive to gore and gives schlatt a bandanna to cover the holes in his head for everyones sake and once they heal somewhat he can find something else out and thats how they live, schlatt helps with what he can like farming w phil but mostly spends his time learning braille or something so he can read and techno gets him books in braille so he isnt bored or alone like he was in the prison and he feeds him and takes care of him and schlatt is funny and entertaining despite being blinded by something from his own body and the torture it was like to rot in a cell alone for almost a 1/4 of a year and nights when techno gets home late and hes shaken and the voices are bad schlatt will sit behind him and play with his hair and talk abt his own day and rub technos back and in return when schlatt relapses and gets violent and angry techno will wash his hair and read him stories until he calms down and hopefully asleep and no one told him the news that wilbur died so when ghostbur shows up and starts talking to him he treats him the same as he would wilbur bc he cant see that hes a ghost all thats different is his speech pattern and overall personality and one day he says 'ur different wilbur what happened to that, i dunno spark u used to have' and wilbur simply 'im not sure if im being honest a lot abt me has changed since i died, or so im told i dont remember much from when i was alive' and schlatt just 0_0 and then hes scrambling down the ladder and stumbling around the house looking for techno, finding him in the basement working on something and when he gets there hes out of breath and his hands are shaking bc holy shit wilburs not only dead but a ghost and he was just talking to me and he doesnt remember what i did and and and and techno is shocked to see schlatt in the basement and asks whats up and schlatt just 'wilbur died wilbur fucking died tech why didnt anyone tell him and now hes a ghost hes a fucking ghost who lives in ur house and doesnt remember anything he doesnt remember that he blew up lmanberg does he he remembers my name but not anything that i did what hes a fucking ghost techno hes a ghost holy fuck' and technos just standing there like ??? no one no one told him 'yea philza had to kill him after he blew up lmanberg i thought u knew thats why i didnt say anything' oh. 'phil, phil had to kill him?' 'yea its a touchy subject, dont bring it up' and simply goes back to what he was working on so schlatt sits on the ground by the ladder and listens to him work his brain going a mile a minute trying to comprehend whats going on 'would i have become a ghost if theyd chosen to execute me?' 'its hard to say im unsure if theres specific circumstances that contribuite to someone becoming a ghost but theres really no telling' and goes back to working yet again and from then on they fall into an easy schedule of techno going out and doing whatever an anarchist terrorist w a murder record does on ur average wednesday and schlatt stays home reading and organizing whatever he can based on size and feeling and sleeping in windowsills and schlatt greeting techno comes home beaten up and full of new resources and a side of bruises and cuts so he tends to them, getting better at maneuvering and functioning without needing to see then techno making dinner and then curling up by the fire for the night enjoying each others company as they talk abt their days :]

#dream smp #jschlatt #technoblade #sorry abt the lack of paragraph breaks i wrote this on discord and just copy pasted it #sorry if things dont make sense too! i just started watching a few weeks ago :]#looks at schlatt and technoblade: i just think theyre neat #also this isnt intended to be a ship au or anything but u can interpret it as whatever #fic au idea

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