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yanderepuck · 3 months ago

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Salai-Chapter 16

WELCOME TO SALAI'S ROUTE. This is a FAN MADE route of my oc, Salai. This means this route contains my headcanons for the characters and in no way is suppose to represent the canon story. This is just a fun little time because I know many of you enjoy Salai. Feel free to engage, talk theories, send asks (even to @ask-salai ).

DISCLAIMER: His route his not canon to his character. Also, all of his lore in not in the route for simplicity reasons plus please feel free to ask about him.

Banner by @spooscribbles

You didn’t spot Salai at breakfast the next day. Considering how much he enjoys food you were a little surprised. Not that he comes often, but you didn't see Leonardo either. They must be together. You make a tray of food for Salai and Leonardo and walk around to see where they could be.

After checking the parlor, library, and Leonardo's room you finally heard them talking down the hall. You get excited and hurry to the room. The door is cracked open. Since you've been here it has always been closed, which means this must be the room Comte gave to Salaì.

You peer in to see the two of them sitting on the floor surrounded by papers, notebooks, clothes, and a bunch of small random items.

Leonardo: I can't believe you kept all this

Salaì: I couldn't part with any of it. I tried to keep everything I could

Leonardo is looking through some notebooks, fanning through the pages. You push open the door, mindful of what could be on the other side.

Mitsuki: I really hope your room doesn't end up looking like Leonardo's.

Leonardo: keep hoping. He's not much better than me

Salaì: I'm cleaner than you!

He pouts at him while Leonardo chuckles

Leonardo: only because you have less

He ruffles his curly hair and continues looking through everything he has. You look around the room. The floor and walls are darker, and there's already a bookcase set up against a wall with some things thrown on it. Some canvases are leaning against the far wall with his easel already set up. A bag of what you are guessing his paints and brushes are beside it. Batuffola is asleep on the bed, curled up in a ball. Salaì stands up, adding papers to an already made stack.

Mitsuki: What are you two doing?

Salaì: Maestro wanted to see what all I still had of his, and then we're trying to figure out what to do with it

Leonardo: It's called organizing, cara mia

Mitsuki: Huh… I didn't think you knew that word. I brought you two some food since you didn't come to breakfast.

Salaì comes over and looks at what is on the tray.

Salaì: Ooo. Thank you, polpetta~

Leonardo chokes on a laugh. That's right. He hasn't actually heard Salaì call you that. He turns around to look at Leonardo.

Salaì: What’s so funny?

Leonardo: Of course it's you who called her that.

Salaì: What? She's a cute polpetta~

He looks back at you with a smile and Leonardo can't hold back his laugh this time.

Mitsuki: You aren't going to stop calling me that, are you?

Salaì: Nope!

He takes the tray from you and brings you further into the room. When he sets it down, it's on top of a small pile of papers. He's clearly going to be just as messy. You sit on the edge of the bed and pet Batuffola as you watch the two look over things. Leonardo takes the apple from the tray and eats it as he shuffles around papers.

Leonardo: I thought I just lost a lot of these.

Salaì: I've kept them all together and tried to mess with them as little as possible so they wouldn't fade.

You try looking at them but you can't make out anything. You can see that there are some sketches mixed in.

Mitsuki: Sebastian and Theo would go insane to be able to see these

Salai: What is Sebastian’s deal anyway? He was asking me a bunch of questions last night

Leonardo: Don’t worry. You’ll get a bunch more.

Mitsuki: Sebastian and I are from the 21st century. He used to be a historian and since you don’t appear in textbooks as much he’s going to have a lot to ask.

Salai looks at you surprised. That’s right, he didn’t know you weren’t from this time.

Salai: Seems like I still have a lot to learn about you~

You felt your cheeks warming. Leonardo hit the back of Salai’s head.

Salai: Hey!

Leonardo: Don’t start flirting with cara mia

Salai: Aw, are you jealous~

Leonardo: She’s too nice to be messing around with someone like you

Salai had leaned against Leonardo, while he flipped through a book. What did he mean by that? Salai didn’t seem to take it as an insult, but you weren’t taking it as a compliment. Come to think of it, you have a lot to learn about him as well.

In the evening after dinner, you bring coffee and tea into the parlor. Dazai and Arthur are playing chess while Salai is on the couch watching. You offered to get everyone drinks, but when you came back they all had a glass of whiskey, the bottle almost gone already.

Mitsuki: You could have told me not to bother.

You set the tray down and take your drink from it.

Dazai: Andrea-san should have told us sooner that he wanted a drink

Dazai moved a piece on the chess board. Salai looks at Dazai, a little confused.

Arthur: That’s not how you move that piece.

Dazai: Sure it is.

Arthur: I just want to play by normal rules

Arthur puts his face in his hands, groaning.

Dazai: Not my fault my queen wants to have an affair with your queen.

He sips his whiskey while Arthur groans louder. You lean into Salai.

Mitsuki: Did I miss something?

He shrugs.

Salai: I don’t know how to play chess to begin with.

Arthur: Take Dazai’s spot ‘n’ let me teach ye.

Salai: You sure?

Arthur: I wid rather play with Jean than play with Dazai

Dazai: You just don’t know the fun ways to play.

Dazai and Salai switch seats while Arthur resets the board. You chuckle as you hear more of Arthur’s accent come through. The whiskey must already be getting to him. Arthur finishes his glass and sets it down.

Arthur: These only shift forward one space. These shift forwards, backwards ‘n’ tae the side. ‘N’ these go diagonal.

He points to each piece explaining what it does, the more he talks the more his words are getting jumbled together. You look at Salai’s face. He is completely lost and you know it.

Arthur: Git it?

Salai just blinks, trying to process anything he just said.

Mitsuki: I don’t think playing with you is going to teach him much, Arthur.

Arthur: ‘n’ why not?

Salai: you got drunk quickly

Arthur: I ain’t drunk

Dazai sets his empty glass down and stands up, helping Arthur out of the chair.

Dazai: Let’s get you to bed

Arthur protests but ends up following Dazai out of the parlor.

Mitsuki: For someone who goes to the pub a few times a week he sure is a light weight.

Salai: And what about you?

He refills his glass and pours another, handing it to you.

Salai: How well do you handle your alcohol?

You take the glass, looking at it for a moment before answering.

Mitsuki: I think I hold it fairly well

Salai: then bottoms up!

He clinks his glass with yours and drinks from it. You hesitate for a moment but then take a sip. You aren’t much of a whisky drinker but it’s not bad.

Before you know it the bottle is empty and you are sitting in his lap, sideways, leg over the arm of the chair. He drank a good bit more than you but he seems fine while you are giggly. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Mitsuki: …and Dazai filled all of them with water and filled it with fish

You both laugh.

Salai: That explains the big pond in the garden

Mitsuki: He won’t even use a door

You giggle again and close your eyes. His arm behind your back starts to rub your arm.

Salai: Let me take you to bed

He starts to get in the right position to pick you up.

Mitsuki: Nooo

You lift up your head and sit up, trying to prove that you aren’t tired.

Mitsuki: I’m awake, I’m awake.

Salai: Not for long.

Mitsuki: You drank much more than me, how are you okay?

Salaì: I don't think you want to know how much it takes to get me drunk.

Mitsuki: Maybe I do.

You start to tease him. You want to know more about him after all. It feels like a lot of effort but you drape your arms over his shoulders, clasping your hands together around his neck. He's not going anywhere but it looks like you are trying to keep him close.

Mitsuki: Andrea, why do you-

Leonardo: What are you two doing?

You turn your head a little too fast and feel the room spin. Leonardo takes a few steps into the room. You then remember what Leonardo said earlier about you being too nice.

Salaì: We're just talking, maestro.

He takes your hands off of him. It feels like he is pushing you away. You keep your focus on Leonardo, not able to help it but pout.

Leonardo: talking huh?

Walking into the scene it seemed like the two of you drank a whole bottle of whiskey yourselves.

Salaì: Mitsuki was just about to go to bed, right?

You didn't answer, you weren't even listening. You're still focused on what Leonardo could have meant. Salaì has been nothing but nice to you, maybe a little flirty but he's never overstepped a boundary. You are only snapped out of it when Leonardo tries to help you up.

Mitsuki: No!

You immediately push him away and get to your feet yourself. Your cheeks are flushed not only from the alcohol but from rage.

Mitsuki: Andrea has been nothing but nice to me! I don't know how long it's been but he's clearly changed since you were last with him. But you would know that if you weren't an ass and abandoned him!

Leonardo: Cara mia, plea-

Mitsuki: Don't cara mia me! You turned him, which makes you responsible for him, right!?

Leonardo: It's not that-

Mitsuki: Right!?

You got closer to Leonardo, glaring up at him. You didn't want to stop until you had some answers.

Leonardo: Yes…

Mitsuki: You messed up and maybe you should try to fix it!

You stumbled a little bit but you weren't going to back down. Your voice got lower, almost like you are threatening him

Mitsuki: Rather than thinking in the past you should worry about making things better.

Leonardo didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. Salaì stayed quiet, worried about interrupting you. You turned around to face Salaì, no rage on your face, but still flushed.

Mitsuki: Can you help me to my room?

Salaì: y-yeah

He looked between you and Leonardo. He felt like the two of them should talk, but he wasn't going to tell you no. He gets up and walks you out of the room and down the hall.

Only a few steps down the hall and he had to carry you the rest of the way. You were barely able to tell him which room was yours. You kept drifting in and out of sleep. Salaì sets you on your bed and you hold onto him so he can't leave.

Salaì: Mitsuki. You need to let go.

Mitsuki: What made you not give up?

Salaì: Huh?

Mitsuki: Looking for Leonardo. He left you. You should hate him.

Salaì: I wish I understood it too.

He tries to free himself but you still won't let go.

Mitsuki: Not good enough.

Salaì sighs and tries to think. His feelings are complicated to the point where he isn't fully sure.

Salaì: He's my maestro. He took me in, took care of me, taught me, then turned me. All of my memories are with him. He's all I had for centuries. How could I not go after him? I had been alive for so long but I still felt lost and didn't know what to do. Besides, what happened was my fault. I would never blame maestro for-

You quickly pulled him down so that your lips would meet. You may have wanted an answer but he needed to shut up before you got upset again. He wanted to pull away but he couldn’t. He would blame that on you but the truth is that he couldn’t force himself. He steadied himself while you pulled on the collar of his shirt. He finally kisses you back.

Feeling him give in you let go of the fabric and instead wrap your arms around his body. It doesn’t take long for Salai to take charge. The bed caving in under his weight, accepting that he isn’t leaving your room tonight.

~~~

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mahoushoujotechsupport · 1 year ago

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ok episode 14?

BUT WHY? HOW? PLEASE AT LEAST GIVE US A FUCKING PREQUEL MANGA ABOUT NOTRETTE

prospera watch status: she sit

i really wanna see someone write a fic where nika's secretiveness is a thing

nika really was so naive, huh? like she really thought she could go to the capitalism school to help earth. i mean yeah, she's just a kid, so there's no use in being like i told you so about it. but really it's like enrolling in the united states military and thinking you're going to be doing something good instead of just furthering imperialism lol

sophie thwarting every single one of el5n's shitty come ons is the best gag ever tbh

need a crack fic where random people try to talk to suletta and her first response is just "i'm sorry, i have a wife"

we should have known nothing good was going to happen this episode... she fucking left the couch

sir, please don't skip your meds

henao is kinda scary isnt she?

this is such a good reaction lmao

also wow i remember watching this whole episode and like yeah we knew SOMETHING was gonna happen... and then everything fuckin happens so fast. i don't know if the fast pace on this ep is a result of everything that was weird about the 2nd cour or if it was a conscious decision, but the breakneck pace in which everything happens in this show really helps to put one in the characters' shoes

thank you gjm for letting chuchu say fuck

rip jubeju

the witches from earth is suchhhh a good song lol it compliments this whole fight so well

some shirou emiya level dialogue right here

mannnn, sophie really didn't deserve that ending

norea,,,

grassley girls deserved better than to lose to guel and kenanji lol

actually, sophie, that is up for interpretation

suletta, you dumb naive little baby

lmao ok hearing sophie's dying screams is like actually uncomfortable this time around

ok so i didn't think they would spell this out for viewers so blatantly but that also made me crack the fuck up when this scene happened in the middle of the sophie v suletta fight because a good friend of mine who is an old time gundam fan refused to believe the aerial = eri theory

coolest reveal tbh

this final scene is why i really wish they'd done more to include cradle planet in the show because if you've never read it, this just makes suletta seem so absurdly naive and makes prospera seem way more evil. when the reality is that for the entirety of her life up to this point, suletta has only known aerial to be a machine used to help people via her search and rescue missions on mercury

pausing to take screenshots and stuff made this episode not seem so crazy but lmao like i said before, this episode is definitely kind of overstimulating with how much gets thrown at you all at once. everything just happens so fast

not looking forward to episode 15. i think that's the only ep i haven't given a rewatch to, so it'll be my actual 2nd time ever watching it. gonna hope there's some goodies i missed or forgot about

#g witch #rewatch time #g witch episode 14

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themovieblogonline · 1 month ago

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FROM Season 3 Episode 4 Review: Who’s Ready for a Ride?

FROMily, FROM Season 3 Episode 4 has come to throw us straight back into the chaos that is FROMtown. This week’s installment packs a heavy punch, and the twists just keep coming. Let’s dive into all the madness that took place, and trust me, there’s plenty to chew on here—literally and figuratively. Harold Perrineau continues to show us why he’s the real MVP of FROM, while the rest of the cast unravels the mysteries (and horrors) of the show. Spoilers ahead! https://youtu.be/HckCUBgdogE Tabatha’s Struggle: Girl, Where’s the Fight? Tabatha is back, but I gotta say... where is the energy? We’ve been rooting for her, but her passivity throughout the first half of this episode leaves us frustrated. Catalina Sandino Moreno nails the role of Tabatha Matthews, but her character? Sis, you’ve been in a car crash, and you’re driving straight back into FROMtown! Give us some emotion, some fire! As much as I’d love for her to have kicked, screamed, and thrown hands, her subdued demeanor might be signaling her exhaustion and despair. After all, Tabatha has been through it. Still, it felt like she could have fought a bit harder to avoid this hellhole. From the Ravens to Victor’s Drawings: More Mysteries? Of Course. If you thought things were about to get clearer—think again! The whole “ravens in the sky” situation left me scratching my head. Are the ravens tied to how people get transported into FROMtown? This theory could hold some weight because as soon as they appear, everything goes south for Tabatha, Acosta, and Henry. Meanwhile, back at FROMtown, Ethan’s going through more cryptic drawings from Victor. And guess what? The phone rings. And who’s on the other end? His dead brother Thomas, of course, dropping even more cryptic advice. Just another day in FROMtown, right? Boyd and Randall: The Dynamic Duo? Over at the bus, Boyd and Randall are having their own bonding moment, or at least what passes for bonding in this show. Boyd’s been keeping it together (barely), but Randall’s starting to get all "Monsters Whisperer" on us, trying to figure out their patterns. Randall really thinks he's cracking the code, and honestly, he might be onto something. Is it just me, or has Randall gone from cocky newcomer to someone we’re actually starting to root for? Fatima, No... Just No. This is where things really go off the rails. Fatima has had a weird pregnancy from the start, but this week takes the cake (or the blood?). Marielle checks on Fatima only to find that she’s been eating—and not in a normal pregnant-craving kind of way. When Fatima uncovers Nikki’s body and starts munching on her blood, I think we all collectively lost it. This demon baby storyline is getting darker by the minute, and I am not ready. What in FROMtown is happening to Fatima? Jade’s Hallucinations: Losing It, or Just Ahead of the Game? Then there’s Jade, who’s been seeing some truly wild things—Civil War soldiers, creepy mannequins, and now a pilgrim dude with a rod in his eye. I think Jade might be connected to something much bigger. These visions are clearly taking a toll on him, but it’s also obvious that his intellect might hold the key to unlocking the secrets of FROM. If only he could hold it together long enough to figure it all out! Victor’s Traumatic Past: The Boy in White Victor’s storyline continues to deepen, and we get some major revelations this episode. Turns out, his history with the boy in white goes way back to the first time he saw the massacre. Victor couldn’t handle burying the bodies, so the boy in white had him collect personal items instead. What does this mean? Why didn’t Victor bury the bodies? These questions keep piling up, but one thing’s clear—the boy in white isn’t just some random kid. He’s crucial to the mysteries of FROMtown. Overall Thoughts “FROM Season 3 Episode 4” was a wild ride, from Boyd’s emotional struggles to Fatima’s disturbing transformation. Harold Perrineau continues to anchor the show, but the rest of the cast also brings their A-game, particularly as the mysteries deepen. If you thought this show couldn’t get any darker—think again. The secrets of FROMtown continue to unravel, and I’m already impatient for next week. Read the full article

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graylinesspam · 1 month ago

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*cracks knuckles*

okay, so there would definitely be all kinds of discussions about whether or not the statues are even Mandalorian. Because here's the thing. The Jedi see a bunch of men in armor and recognize one (1) Mandalorian symbol and go "yeah that's probably a Mandalorian" without putting too much more thought into at. They are so confident in their assessment that they probably wouldn't even prioritize getting a Mandalorian historian in there right away. At most they probably send some captures of the symbols close up and center frame to a historian whose like "Yeah at least three of these are Mandalorian, i have no idea whats going on with the rest of it though."

The Jedi would likely be more interested in what in the galaxy the statues are doing in the veritable basement of a sith temple. Because??? what the hell were the sith doing with a bunch of statues of soldier? There are some off the bat theories that they were going to be some kind of golem esc force experiment where they would have tried to bring them to life to fight the jedi. WHICH throws the all kinds of dark implications at "The General's" existence. Was she supposed to be a sith? or maybe she was an innocent sacrificed in some kind of soul transfer ritual that didn't go well? She certainly looks and feels different from the other statues.

This theory would be thrown out the window pretty quickly because who would spend all the time to carve this many statues without actually confirming the whole bringing them to life bit would actually work. And there's never even been a rumor of undead stone sith warriors. That kind of story would have survived in some way, even unsubstantiated. Also why would they be mandalorian? and led by a teen? there's too many holes.

It does lead to another splinter theory that it was actually a night sister ritual that went wrong, based solely off of bad vibez and the circular room/arrangement of the statues.

More importantly how did they even get the statues down this far into the temple. There are sooo many stairs between here and even the former top floor. were they carved down here? Or sculpted? (did they have a kiln down here?) The general appears to be made from a clay fired stone. perhaps they are as well. Just a pale white clay they've never seen before.

All insidious sith conspiracies aside, why would anyone make so many statues? That's a lot of labor for what? most statues are made as icons. Either for worship as symbols of a moral higher standard or as remembrance of the lost (Or a combination of both). What was the intention of the creators? This is where all the theories surrounding the configuration come in. Are the soldiers threatening (no) Is the jedi in danger (no) is there some implication of action setting the scene (no). As far as they can tell they all appear to be in a position of rest. Which is most congruent with the idea of remembrance of the lost. Soldiers finally left to rest.

The soldiers themselves are also extremely uniform. Not only in their almost identical armor but also in their proportions. Like surely they had to be made by molds or something. And yet everything else about them seems to be fighting this very deliberate choice. Their armor has been gratified over in a nonsensical mess of designs. If it wasn't for the foreboding feeling clearly deterring anyone from touching them, they'd think they were defiled long after their initial creation. Some of the markings are as random as lone words in Aurabesh. Some are in Mando'a. There is an abundance of triangles and arrows. designs resembling animals or weapons. A few celestial bodies. Some that must be more complex cultural symbols. Almost all in a flat medium blue. And what is the significance of that color? The mandos have color codes. The Jedi do as well. What is the significance of white blue and orange?

Eventually they must call in a Mandalorian historian. The Jedi are rarely ever on decent terms with the mandos. Coincidentally the construction of the temple finished only a couple of decades before Tarre joined the order however. After having left the jedi and returned to rule Mandalore he was still on good terms with the temple (more or less) and I don't see why they wouldn't ask him to send someone.

The first historian, yes first lord knows the statues were studied more than once through the centuries, was absolutely baffled. Firstly by the horrid construction of the armor. He spent less than a day studying the statues before he declared loudly, and with much conviction, that there was no way Mandalorian armor would be constructed so poorly. It was bulky, cumbersome, and lacking any classic design. The helmets while very similar to Mandalorian design were oblong and warped with bulky round respirators. And while he did admit that there were a small handful of Mandalorian symbols he declared that they were bastardized. The soldiers were not Mandalorian.

At that was the accepted conclusion.....for some time.

The Mandalorians in all of their confrontational history were never on good terms with the Jedi for long. And after a certain infamous incident that included trespassing and multiple murders, they were barred from approaching the temple. Discontent was never quiet for long and despite the former assessment they railed that the soldier in the basement were just more of their property stolen by the Jedi. After many many years of arguments and accusations thrown at them the Jedi finally agreed to have an accurate and detailed scan of the chamber made so that more modern Mandalorian scholars could study the statues without needing to enter the temple.

That was when the general populous finally got a look at them. And they were just as stumped. Their chestplates were large, crude in design, and lacking of any of the shape of a Beskargram. And yet the visors...they were familiar. Some claimed they were such ancient Mandos that their armor designs had been lost to history, other argued that they looked cheap and mass manufactured. Like some private security forces of the richer planets. They looked to the temple guard and the Naboo guard for comparisons. And there were similarities here too. Signs of machine manufacturing instead of hand crafting. And the symbols...they were bizarre. Funny in some cases. Some were disparaging phrases insulting the enemy or the food or war it's self. Any young solider that had seen war felt a kinship with these. "When you are young and all you know is war, you cover yourself in it." one Mando famously said.

There was a hard divide about the legitimacy. All Authority in the academic sphere decided that their findings were inconclusive. Some politicians still wanted the statues returned to Mandalore. The young of Mandalore adopted their stone brethren. They copied their odd symbols on their own armor. Writing phrases over the ear of their own helmets. Or the sides of their vambraces. Their clan symbols mingled with deep blue pinstriping. And blue stripes over their visors became a symbol of rebellion, of unity amongst the youth, of the death of innocence in war. Eventually the blue became synonymous with war. Specifically blue over white. The color of purity slowly marked over with reliability. A slow hammering of experience replacing youth. of responsibility replacing freedom. A blue tally on a helmet or shoulder, a battle fought in. A blue diamond, a war fought and ended.

It was a surface level adoption of the markings though. Only a few truly became popular and fewer still survived as time passed. The more obscure and indecipherable faded to pictures in the archive. And while blue was earned in battle, there was another symbol entirely that baffled them.

The orange. At first none had an interest in the Togruta girls markings. The troops that marked themselves after her were establishing their place as her clan. It was not uncommon in the near human Mandalorians. But then there were force sensitives born among the Mandalorians. None as strong as Tarre had been. And none properly trained...but they were a distinct subset. Force sensitive Mandalorians were a commodity, a pride to their clans. They were exceptionalism in a culture that prided it's self in exceptionalism. They marked themselves not after her exactly. But with a diamond in the center of their foreheads. It was a symbol of a sense, a sight, outside of the ordinary. Most had skills as innocuous as uncanny aim, a sense for danger, exceptional tracking skills, a preternatural awareness of those around them, or an above average ability to read others. Without formal Jedi training to teach them even the basics like push and pull a force sensitive mando is very different than a force sensitive Jedi. And without testing it's less a concrete processes of identifying who is gifted and who is skilled. It becomes something earn able through deeds. Sure curving a bolt away from yourself is pretty concrete evidence but sometimes simply doing the "impossible" can earn yourself the symbol.

Earnable markings across the brow of the helmet grow in popularity as the diamond survives through several generations. Symbols for certain skills emerge. Medics ears iron heart across their brows. Armorers have three columns representing the hammer and the tongs. Gunners develop a complex symbol of triangles arranged in it's own language communicating a person's skill and with what kind of blaster, and what their most impressive accomplishments have been. Clan symbols are born, evolve, and die with these other symbols. Animals are a common theme. Great horned beasts grow in popularity and snarling fangs start to appear. Longer range rifles are developed and with them birds rise in popularity. Shriek hawks become the symbol of a noble house Their eyes perched just above the visor. Wide and round and grey like the bird's eyes. It's seen as an inflammatory choice as they do not universally boast crack shot members. A group comes out with an opposing them politically. They make a show of earning their shriek hawk eyes. Each and every soldier rigorous marksman training their elite force earned their second pair of eyes. Instead of being painted by a noble artisan, they were free handed by their clan leaders. Painted with one brush and once color. Angular and simple in their triangular design. Sharp eyes.

The mandalorians were too absorbed with their own internal issues to turn more than a cursory eye to the jedi for some time. Long enough for many changes in their social structure to happen. Long enough for a man named Jaig, the best sharp shot in Mandalorian lore, and a rumored force sensitive, to fight and lose a war. To be struck down on Mimbam and for his helmet to be brought bad to his clan. Held aloft by their enemies. His second eyes spotted with blood, unblinking and immortal in some way. And so Jaig's eyes become tradition, become Jaig eyes. Become iconic.

And now...well someone has to come across the old files, the scans of the chamber in the bottom of the Jedi temple, the one only one single Mandalorian has ever stepped foot into. And they notice something. The highest ranking soldier, the one with the only set of unique armor, the one kneeled across from the Jedi, has wide open eyes, immortal and unblinking, staring at her. Jaig eyes.

But how is this possible? Jaig eyes have only existed for just shy of a hundred years. Tarre himself saw the statues and yet there on this man's brow is a symbol that wouldn't have existed for hundreds of years.

There's a sudden surge in awareness of the statues once more. The Mandalorians demand another opportunity to study them. More than that they demand a more thorough explanation of their history from the Jedi, who can offer them little more than a shrug. "The statues have lived in this temple for longer than we have. Longer than our memory. Their origin is a mystery to us."

Many Jedi latch onto the idea that the maker of the statues could see into the future, that maybe they'd had visions of the future so intense that they were driven to near madness, influenced to create the statues to bring life to who they saw in their mind. Hundreds of versions of the same man....and one Jedi. Perhaps they endeavored to build them as a walkable diorama, of some event they'd seen too many times. Some moment in time so concrete it must literally be made into stone. Some intrical moment now an axis of fate. A fulcrum by which destiny balanced.

The Mandalorians were not passified with theories and talk of visions of the future. There were statues clearly related to them and their history in possession of the Jedi. Barred from them. This would not stand. They appealed (threatened) to the senate. They became even less friendly with jedi loose in the galaxy. After mounting pressure the Council allows one small team, no more than two members to inspect the statues, under full temple guard.

It's a tense affair. The temple guard line the walls of the room. The two mando's An art expert and an armorer inspect the statues. They take more modern, high definition captures of each and every statue, and this time, of the jedi as well. Their inspection is thorough. The archivists that accompany them appear more unsettled each day and when finally snapped at by one of the mados they admit "it feels more stale in here every day, like the air is growing stiller, thinner." The mandos are not impressed by the jedi's bad feelings. But at the end of their examinations their finding remain more or less the same as before. "There is no reasonal explanation for the existence of these statues. They should not exist. *with sarcasm* Maybe with time more of these symbols will develop and the Jedi will be proved correct in their theory."

There is much debate as to whether the symbols on the soldiers have truly predicted the future of it was the other way around. That their existance within the subconscious of the mandalorians influenced the symbol they use in modern times. There is no way to tell how old the statues are entirely. Perhaps they've been found before, known of before, and all their symbols influenced the mandalorians in some way.

The Jedi are really more concerned with the Jedi anyways. The girl in the midst of the soldiers. Every aspect of her has been studied by those with a strong enough stomach to get close. There was an incident on Shili, two hundred years ago. A war between the natives and the mining guild. There was a lot of cultural superstitions that came from it. One Togruta Jedi made the trek down. He examined the girl with a hand held tight to his mouth to hold the nausea in. "She cannot simply be a youngling." he was adamant. "She is a warrior. A child soldier. Only in the bleakest times has Shili allowed it's youth to become this. Only when their hope is only to survive." He elaborates with a breakdown of her body. There are physical markers of war on her. The short head tails, the broken stripes, the over muscled arms. The scars. The tilted montrals.

By every indicator this is an omen of war. From the most obvious symbol of a battalion of soldier sleeping beneath their feet, to the symbols across their brows, to the lines of muscles under terracotta skin. It was all indicative of one thing. Where they in the before? the after? some nebulous time in between?

There were so many questions and almost no answers.

Just this feeling suspended in the air, like they were being pressed on. compressed by the collision of two great forces. But so so slowly. Like a Chalhuddan unaware he's being boiled.

Thought- in the terracotta warriors thing, you mentioned that the Jedi archeologists brought in a specialist in mando iconography to try and work out what’s going on with the 501sts symbols- what if that outside specialist is jaster mereel? Could be pre becoming the mand’alor, could be just his side job, but either way he spends a few years studying it all and getting used to being the only mando in a base camp full of Jedi, makes friends, has academic discussions and disagreements, steals someone’s holopad to try and use the link to the Jedi archives to read all the things on tarre visla, gets into an actual argument, reconciles with agreeing to help with a historical reenactment of a Jedi mandolorian war, gets Madame nu’s comm number, introduces his new son to his comm bff who argues historical nitpicks with him, brings jango to the next summer at the site, clones react to jango somehow and/or there’s a few tubies in there who look distractingly like jango and/or someone has their helmet off and jango has a breakdown over it looking like a family member? And so on and so on

Context: Sleeping Soldiers AU

See, I don't really subscribe to the "halfway to archaeologist!Jaster" fanon. I'm especially reticent to engage with the Jocasta ship, honestly.

But... okay, here's the thing. It does feel pretty incongruous with how I've written Jaster thus far. I can believe him having like. A 'classical' education. Not actually tutored like a noble, but that he sought out the same subjects as an adult to make sure he understood how to rule once he started having a proper political angle. He's a history nerd in the way that a particularly political/philosophical aristocrat of the 18th century would have been.

Military history, philosophical history, political and even some arts... but not actually in an archaeological sense.

(Also, it raises my hackles because it's one of those things that feels like it's heavily associated with the whole "True Mandos Were Best Mandos" crowd.)

It also really depends on the era! Tarre makes more sense than Jaster, just because of the timescale! The soldiers are millennia buried by the time Jaster is born! That said, even Tarre is a few millennia late but... makes more sense than Jaster.

Most likely, there are historians and archaeologists coming by every few centuries, as new generations encounter the issue, and older analyses are lost in the depths of the archives. Frequency tapers off after a few millennia, but... by the time Jaster is around?

It's 100% a New Mandalorian with an art history doctorate. (With a military symbolism specialty, in this case.)

It's probably not a New Mando if it's an Early On moment, but it probably is a New Mando if the Jedi start getting Weird Vibes and investigating the soldiers in the decades leading up to the Prequels.

Would the New Mandalorians know more than the traditionalists? Not necessarily. Would they know less? Actually, no.

I firmly believe that the New Mandalorians are taught about their histories in a "German kids learn about WWII atrocities, going on field trips to historic sites of said horrors, so their teachers can stress that they don't repeat the mistakes of the past" kind of way. I imagine the New Mandos would have plenty of research and records in regards to actual history, with plenty of museums and such. Part of maintaining pacifism is ensuring that the coming generations understand what led them to pacifism in the first place.

Is this thousands of years in the past, and thus difficult to research? Yes, but the traditionalists would have that same problem.

More of them, even. If the New Mandos have been around for seven hundred years, like Legends claims, then the traditionalists have probably have lost a lot of history through various battles and bombings, while the New Mandalorians, while not entirely escaping large scale destruction and such attacks, are much more likely to have protected and maintained their sites, simply by not courting war as a matter of culture. The traditionalists, meanwhile, would have had a much stronger emotional and cultural attachment to legends and themes, though I'll admit those are probably prone to revisionism, much like real-world folklore and mythology.

As @atagotiak put it:

Ehhhh. The traditionalists do care about legends and history and stuff. Often in an idealized way, sure. But you could argue that they’d have more reason than new mandos to be into these stories. Which, to be clear, isn’t like, saying that Jaster is definitely a part-time historian or anything like that. It’s just I don’t think one side would have an advantage over another. (edited)

So the New Mandos and Trad Mandos are probably on an even playing ground, insofar as skill and resources and knowledge go.

But by Jaster's time, the Jedi would have more reason to think the New Mandos would cooperate. No real downside to asking them when it comes to knowledge/skill, and an upside in terms of 'not getting shot when asking.'

As Tia said:

And even if we assume Jaster is a big history nerd and would be receptive to the Jedi (and tbh there’s even less indication of the latter) there’s no reason to think the Jedi would know that.

So yeah, when the soldiers start having Vibes And The Force Becomes Suspiciously Active on that level... New Mando archaeologist, definitely.

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dogwatersoda · 2 years ago

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I'm curious, if you dont mind me asking, why do you associate Tobias with the Frankenstein’s monster entity?

I have been thinking of this constantly since it has been ask on how I could word this bc!!!! essay time (even though it’s more so random thoughts and observations thrown together) babey

Tobias and FM/Frankenstein’s Monster (Who I will switch among referring to as either FM or Adam)

Both contain themes of isolation, misunderstandment, fear, and estrangement/unhealthy relationships with their fathers/creators. Which result in violent behaviors.

Tobias and FM both have to teach themselves how to interact with the outsiders/humankind.

Both Victor and Lucas loathe their children (the first dedicating his life to kill his)

And the thing that they fear is neither Tobi’s or Adam’s fault. Victor literally created and built Adam (I actually have a little theory on Victor’s fascination with bringing something back to life but that’s for another post], and [from what I’ve interpreted/understood so far] Lucas hands Tobias over to Mr. Edburt for some exchange or something. Neither FM or Tobias could consent to any of this whatsoever.

(I can’t remember where I heard this but if I recall correctly doesn’t future/older Tobias try to kill his mother so that he could have the sole attention of his father without any distractions? If that’s true, then both Tobias and FM have either attempted or succeeded in killing their fathers’ spouses)

Also Adam has both killed a kid and saved the life of another and Tobias attempted to save someone and kill another (again) so

Adam and Tobi both lament their existence and speak in a more eloquent manner (although for the previous, it’s because of time-period the story was written in, while the latter adds to the character).

They both end up feared, misunderstood, and rejected by those around him {For Tobias, Ghost Eyes solely.} (Assuming his other siblings [minus Mattias] reject him like in Finger Game)

Minus the parallels between FM/Adam and Tobias and solely onto the other stuff.

There’s a common trope/gag with FM-inspired entities is how occasionally their limbs fall off and they have to re-stitch it again over and over reminds of Tobias. He has to deal with the torment of his Father and Mr Edburt and then it doesn’t get easier from there. Even when/after he falls apart, he tries to stay together and push on to be strong. (Because of this and his love of porcelain dolls, I also associate Tobias with broken/cracked porcelain dolls, as well as haunted/possessed ones)

FM-inspired entities are also built and Tobias was although built together in a more metaphorical/mental way. Tobias’s mindset/nature has been built and sculpted by his environment, his father and his treatment definitely having a major impact on that.

Anyways they have a lot of similarities/parallels and those are the majority of the reasons that Frankenstein’s Monster or FM-inspired entities remind me of Tobias Schneien.

I hope this was this wasn’t too incoherent or too long and sorry for taking a tad bit to respond, have been thinking of all the reasons and parallels to both the original Frankenstein and Ghost Eyes/Cards and how to put them properly into words. If this is completely incomprehensible, I am much willing to retype and reword this for easier comprehension and if you’d like any other clarification, more discussion, any questions, or whatever feel free to ask me :-) :-)

#ghost eyes #ghost eyes tobias #tobias schneien #ghost eyes comic #frankenstein #frankenstein’s monster #frankenstein’s creature #analysis #character parallels #sodas rambles #literature #sorry this is kind of incoherent but I hope you understand what I mean????#mary shelley Frankenstein #comics #webcomics #sodas posts

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joannasteez · 4 years ago

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Headcanon request:

The guys going shopping with their girl while she is trying on more and more hideous clothing trying to make her man crack and say “what the fuck are you wearing?”

Not sure whose included when you say “guys” so I just did the Reyes boys since I only really write for them at the moment! Also, comedy isn’t my strong suit so hopefully this isn’t completely cringe LOL, if it is forgive me! Haha

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

Shopping is no simple endeavor, never has been, never will be. There are far too many components to just offhandedly consider the process easy. Color scheme, sizes, fabrics, the cut of the clothing, the energy of the store, the weather outside, all these factors and many more play integral roles in making or breaking your shopping experience.

But you never considered Angel to be such an influential factor, but he was, and his far off nonchalant mood was putting a damper on your shopping.

He’d been occupied by the bright screen of his phone, scrolling and tapping away vigorously, texting EZ or Coco or Gilly no doubt, or hell maybe all three at once, which was no problem any other day, but considering you wanted his insight on the things you’d picked from the lined up racks, it was becoming a tiny bit of an issue.

Every other thing you showed him he barely looked at, giving you a short nod or a thumbs up, and these outfits were GOOD mind you. Like dinner date, catching the eye of every other person around you good, baby making till 4 AM good, and he was giving you these half assed responses.

“I’ll fix you”, you thought. Grabbing a bunch of random pieces and leading him to the fitting room.

The first couple of outfits you put together aren’t horrible but they aren’t amazing either, but that’s purposeful because you want to see how much he’ll notice. And you’re actually surprised, because he does notice, the upturn in his brow telling you he isn’t that into the outfit. “Yes? No?”, you ask.

“Try something else”, he mumbles before tapping away again at his phone.

You try again. Coming out the fitting room. “What about this?”.

He looks you up and down, taking the time to look over the fit of the clothes and the colors before he speaks. “The bottoms don’t go with that top”.

You try once again, a smile giggle emitting as you throw together the craziest, most random things. ‘Time to up the ante’, you think, as you move from out the door, clearing your voice to catch his attention.

He double takes when he sees you, and it takes a lot not to burst into a fit of giggles. “You being serious? You look like a Y2K red carpet”, he scrutinizes and you tilt your head not sure of what he’s getting at, so he clarifies as he texts away on his phone. “That’s not a compliment baby”.

You roll your eyes, making quick work of changing the top of the outfit. “Ok is it better now?” You hands smoothening over the top.

He sits his phone down, brows coming together in deep thought. “You know that word people use to like describe stuff that’s unpleasant? Stuff that’s uneasy on the eyes?”

You think for a minute..... words unsure as they leave you. “Ugly?”

“Exactly”.

“Ass”, you gripe lightly. Throwing a nearby shirt his way before you make your way back to the fitting room. His voice carrying over toward you as you close the door. “Don’t even hang that top back up on the rack, just toss that shit in the trash”.

“Excuse me J. Alexander”, you mock.

He’s confused at your reference. “What?”

“Nothing”, you say, piecing another outfit together another outfit, more ridiculous than the others. “I have one more outfit, it’s good this time I promise”.

“I’m at the edge of my seat”, he deadpans.

You come out and it takes a moment for him to respond, eyes stuck on the jarring contrast of color and patterns. He rushes to you, holding your face as his thumbs pull at the skin just below your eyes to get a better view of them, expression dramatically worried.

“Are you color blind?”

You swat him away. “No Angel, what are you talking about”.

“You must be because what the fuck are you wearing?”

𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

Ezekiel’s a bit different from Angel when it comes to your shopping experience, and so despite his lack of knowledge or interest even in the complex goings on of such an endeavor, he realizes that it makes you extremely excited. He gives as much attention as he can muster, which is pretty hard sometimes, especially when it’s been a long day and his feet are hurting or if his muscles are sore. But there’s still a bit of an issue when it comes to him, a tiny issue you come to realize as you walk through racks of clothes.

No matter what you show him, even if it’s not particularly your style, he gives his approval.

And it’s kind of sweet and endearing, because he doesn’t want to dampen your mood by expressing how he doesn’t like a particular color or pattern on some dress or shirt or another, but honest opinions are crucial to the shopping experience. He’s hindering more than helping and he doesn’t even realize it, so now you’ve got to fix the situation a bit. Nudge him a little into the right direction.

So you pick up a couple of ok outfits, some not so great outfits and a few that are just completely awful. Even looking at them as you lead him to the fitting room you’re wondering why they’re even in the store.

You change into the first outfit, coming from behind the fitting room door to show him, and his head tilts. Eyes taking you in but he’s unsure of how to express what he’s thinking. “It’s...... nice”.

“Nice?”, you ask before looking down at your self. And again, it’s not awful, the cut of the top and the bottoms go together pretty well, but the colors are just off. “That’s it?........ nothing else?”

“It’s cool. If you like it, I like it”.

“Forget what I like, I want honesty”.

You’re changing again, into something a little more ridiculous, lips turning a bit at this little game you’ve been playing to see how long it’s take till he cracked and gave you some truth.

You come out again. Twirling to give him a 360 view. “Yes? No? Be honest”.

His face is scrunched, brows pulling in dislike. “It’s alright......... would look a lot better if you left it on the rack”.

You gasp, tone of the comment taking you back a bit and he throws his hands up in defense. “What? You said be honest”.

You try again, upping the ridiculousness with some janky looking braided belt and it’s taking more and more not to laugh at how good you’re putting these bad outfits together. “Ok ok..... this is better I think. Thoughts?”

He gives a once over fairly quickly. “Are we still doing the honesty thing?”

“Yes!”

“You’d look better in a burlap sack”.

There’s a near by piece of some cotton shirt that lays idle, you throw it his way. “Harsh......”, your hands slipping off the ugly belt. “And for the record, I could pull off a burlap sack if I wanted to”.

He nods. “Exactly my point. Anything is better than this”.

You’re turned now, slipping of the belt and walking back to the fitting room. “Who knew Mr. I Only Wear Plaid and Sleep in my Jeans was such a critic”.

“At least I match”, he shot back. Readying himself for the next outfit.

You’ve completely thrown caution to the wind, mixing patterns and completely destroying any sense you have of color theory. Patterns clash and the contrast of the color is just despicable at this point. A four year old could do better than what you have on, you’re sure of it.

You step from the fitting room, giving a strut and face that just might make Naomi Campbell proud. And honestly you were kinda selling it..... till Ezekiel really took a good look at you. His features dropping.

“Ok babe forreal, what the fuck are you wearing?”

Taglist: @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @superhoeva @witching-hour @noz4a2 @withmyteeth

#headcanon #long headcanon #ez reyes #angel reyes #mayans mc #ez reyes x reader #angel reyes x reader #joannasteez

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lutiaskokopelli · 4 years ago

Photo

I’m pretty sure at least 90% of my followers have at least heard of the Feral/ShitLord AU so far, but just in case some of you haven’t, it’s an AU made by @chipper-smol and it’s everything a Hollow Knight AU should ever dream to be. Stupid and simple in concept, leaves enough room for a humongous amount of random shenanigans and heartfelt moments between characters who are all awesome in their own ways and try their best... All in all, everything that I love about a story. The perfect mix betwen Hilarity & Reality ensue.

If y’all like my comic series but somehow don’t know their AU yet? Go check them out! It’s even better, and without the random parodic 4th-wall-breaking OC thrown in!

(By the way I’m really sorry for all the rambling and shitpost that follows, I’ll put the rest below the cut x’D I just can’t help it, when I get on a theory rampage then nothing can stop me lmao. Headcanons and conspiracies below! Also some more shitpost and hand-drawn memes while I’m at it)

So. *cracks fingers* Now that the introductions are out of the way... It’s time to crack open this AU’s core problem. This is a “[REDACTED] goes back in time somehow and uses this opportunity to change fate around them earlier on” AU, the keyword here being “somehow.” So far, I still have no idea whether this “somehow” means that Chipper-smol doesn’t know yet what the means is, or if they have their own idea but never revealed it yet for personal/plot reasons.

(Btw just to be clear, the first option is totally valid, I absolutely dig that this is an AU made for fun! And hey, even if I’m a conspiracy theorist when it comes to making fictional plots, I too have had to make a point with TFS of NOT going further down into answering plot questions than necessary. Otherwise I’d lose my sanity like I did with my dozens of previous stories lmao. It’s my personal guilty pleasure to add lore into every single thing despite how much time and energy it sometimes takes out of me, but the downside to that is that, yeah, once you go down the rabbit hole but forget the ladder, you’re gonna have a hard time climbing back up. I’m doing this whole post here for fun, but I hope it won’t pressure anyone into thinking “this is how the AU should go” or anything. This post has just some random tween rambling here, nothing else to see here haha)

Anyway, back to the point. For now, there is no canonical answer as to how Feral/Ghost were able to go back in time.

Time to answer it >:)

Soooooo for the longest time, until I took more time today to think it over, my first idea was rather close to what I already am using for TFS -- as in, since it’s canonically established that there’s a huge amount of Dream/Nightmare realm-related areas with many purposes, one of which being the Shrine of Believers which technically breaks the fourth wall and everything... I guess, canonically, pretty much everything related to Dreams may or may not be Applied Phlebotinum. So, why the heck not, dream shenanigans could or couldn’t have sent Ghost back in time. Maybe. I guess that’s about as likely as a flying talking transdimensional mushroom referencing previous or possibly future games Team Cherry has made.

But now... I think I found a better idea. Kinda?

Let’s go back on how things went -- or at least, what I’ve gathered of it so far. Feral/Ghost got to see Godhome and became the Shade Lord at a certain point, defeating Radiance in the process. Then, they somehow went back in time and ended up all the way down in the Abyss, climbing back up at the same time as the Hollow Knight does. They both get taken in by the Pale King, and that’s when Feral/Ghost realizes that they are, in fact, in the past.

Now... There’s one thing I remember being said about the void. It “could deny Time.” Sure, it’s said by the Pale King under the probable context that it’s meant to help Hallownest remain eternal through putting the Infection under a stasis, not that Void actually has time-related powers. But... It’d be fun to at least consider taking that sentence literally, I guess.

And now, the third theory. One that I came to like the most, not gonna lie.

What if... It was all because of a single, little, flower. Just picture the cutscene: the Lord of Shade appears, obliterates the Radiance, then takes a hold of the Godseeker in an attempt to reach reality -- and then poof. Nothing. Nothing except for that tiny pale flower, decaying as it seems to have used the last of its life force.

The Delicate Flower sure is a strange and mysterious artifact. It comes from a land beyond Hallownest, it is sometimes described as “Pale” as well (I think? Don’t @ me for it), and most of all, the White Lady alludes to its “rare power” to the extent that she adds, “To hold it so close, one must surely be unaware of its nature...”

So yeah. For all we know, “sending the Void back in time” hasn’t yet been ruled out of the list of things that the Delicate Flower could have done to make Godseeker and the Shade Lord disappear completely. Right? :p

Now the question that goes with that though is, if we go down that rabbit hole all the way through... Did Godseeker go back in time too???

Now I can only picture what a thrown-back-in-time Godseeker could possibly do. Probably leave the junkpit at least, which would explain why it’d take so long before Feral/Ghost finds her. Possibly preach the Shade Lord’s almighty power to whoever wants to listen to her, too. Who knows.

This last paragraph has absolutely nothing to do with all the above, but I have one last question, just because. It is at the very least Extremely Likely in this AU that Feral/Ghost isn’t hollow at all, so I kinda wonder if the Radiance ever tried to visit their dreams (as well as Hollow’s while we’re at it) long before Hollow is ready to be sealed. I mean, either Radiance is too scared of visiting their dreams because even if they aren’t hollow they are still partially made of void; or, she realizes they aren’t hollow and that she can thus maybe try to infect them too. Just throwing random ideas here. Although I’d rather go with the first option for Void-vs-Radiance reasons, one cannot deny that it’d be hilarious to at least imagine what an early encounter between Radiance and Feral could be. Feral has been labelled as such by the Pale King’s Court. The people Feral wants to protect. Now, just what amount of f*ckery could Feral even reach with someone they actually want to destroy? (unless, of course, they take the Radiance 100% seriously and don’t want to do anything to her until they get access once more to their Shade Lord powers. That’d be a wise and tactical option. It’s just a shame that Feral hasn’t really been proven to have both of those skills so far in the AU lmao)

Extra: After seeing Ghost get a teen form in the Feral AU I could no longer resist. I had to draw Player getting one too, even if that’s never gonna happen.

anyway here it is i’m done lmao. whoever managed to read this far gets a free virtual cookie

#hollow knight comic #hollow knight shitpost #shitpost #shitlordau #the5thsave

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years ago

Text

good eye

part 4 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 3.5k (I’m only 14% sorry about that)

warnings: strong language, extremely mild injury, Benny Miller working out, a little bit of a cliffhanger ending

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

“good eye” is an encouragement for batting players, essentially applauding them for having good judgement when and when not to swing.

In this chapter, the guys becoming increasingly aware of how interesting you are to the whole gang - and what they’re going to do about it.

Bottom of the ninth inning – the end of the game.

Sometimes players fixated on the score, glancing at the flashing lights or acting desperately but for Will, keeping it in his head was just as natural as breathing. Floating around first base made it easy for him to keep an eye on everything, and stay focused under the summer sun. His team was up by two.

The opposition was at bat – their final advantage as the home team. He didn’t feel particularly nervous, but couldn’t breathe easy just yet. They already had two outs, thanks to his little brother’s inhuman speed and some excellent Garcia pitching, and just one more to go before it was all over. Preferably, this would happen before the man on third made it to home base.

There was a bead of sweat rolling down, down, down his temple over his cheekbone, and into his beard. The clouds from the start of the game were long gone – even with his cap, his blue eyes were getting tired.

They were focused on the batter, not even Pope, and never the crowd, since it was always just a blur of noise and rival colors and waving hands. The closer the game came to an end, the more the mass of people writhed with tension. It was better just to ignore it. There was no reason at all, but he looked up just for a split second and he saw a single, tiny form make itself clear, sending a confusing thrill down his spine.

A familiar crack rang through the air and he snapped back to focus. The batter was hurling towards him, the crowd was holding it’s breath as he looked around, almost frantically.

Where was the ball?!

Your form was still in his minds eye, he didn’t understand, but then – there, in the outfield. No, here. Instinct had taken over.

It was in his glove, and his left toe had found first base. Will heard a curse as the opposing player plowed behind him a second too late, a yell from the umpire, and then the satisfying groans of the other team’s fans.

Pope crashed into him first, then whoever else was the closest. It was giddy and triumphant chaos, hands clapping his shoulder, sweaty hugs, slaps, and high fives, and Will barely noticed any of it. Jogging back to the locker room was quick, the crunch of their shoes in the grit of the field like a stampede, impossibly loud. The locker room wasn’t as bad. It would have been louder if they had lost, like they had expected. Something still felt strange in his gut as they changed and rinsed off and packed their things.

You were interesting to him, he liked how real you were. He was normally the one that grounded others, that kept his head, learned his lessons and left the game on the field. It was nice, spending time with someone he didn’t have to do that for – or really anything for. There wasn’t a need to put on a show for you, or be your steady sidekick. It was nice. But it had only been a lunch and a night at the bar, no reason to know the shape of you, much less be thrown off by it.

He was taking extra care to clean his newest tattoo, absentminded, when the locker-talk caught his attention.

This was the first away game they had won this season, and everyone was debating why their luck had changed. Some of them were arguing loudly, ridiculously, and as usual, his friends started gravitating together, interested, but with lower voices and cooler heads.

“Do you think it was because I wore last weekend’s socks, Fish?” Benny was grinning, as his friends eyebrows answered for him. Frankie was superstitious, but in a way he’d gotten from his abuela, not the game. Will had a thought, the confusing last moment of the game clicking into the conversation, his eyes meeting Pope's for a moment.

“Actually, I have a theory,” he kept his voice quiet. If the rest of the team got wind that William Miller was participating in the banter, they’d be all over him, sure he was right only because he rarely cared. His friends looked at him, curiously, and he chewed on the idea for a moment, liking it more and more until he actually believed himself when he told them.

Their good luck charm?

You.

Tom had missed the conversation, occupied with a love-sick staff member in a quiet corner of the stadium.

He would never admit it, but he always needed a distraction when the winning catch had nothing to do with him. And Molly had to travel with the team most weeks anyway, the availability becoming increasingly more appealing than trying his luck with a random fan.

The next day after practice, he found her again and this time, despite the crude nature of the location, he took little more time. It was strange, to grab her without pent up frustration driving his actions, but not an entirely unwelcome change of pace.

He didn’t dwell on it, almost running away, but she did, trailing her fingers over the places his had been as she put herself together again. She wanted to remember each one, to savor them like it was the first time. And maybe it was – the very first time he had even kissed her with no particular personal agenda. Of that, she didn’t feel as guilty about wanting more.

Tom had long since slipped out the door when she finished the process, just slipping on her heels when the someone knocked.

Opening it, she found an eager and awkward shortstop pushing into her office. He seemed nervous, more nervous than she had seen him during photo shoots and press conferences and final innings. It wasn’t what she expected – not the demeanor the players normally held when they asked for favors. Professional athletes were confidant, suave, even. Ben had something else going on, something sweeter, maybe even innocent.

He called her ma’am, and she rolled her eyes when he asked for you number.

“Don’t you boys ever talk?” she was kind of annoyed. Ben was confused, it showed on his face.

“Tom got it awhile ago,” she started, and he got it, immediately. The older man hadn’t told any of them that you would be at the bar last week. He wondered if you knew he had arranged it. Something felt off but before he could ponder it she finished.

“And Santi got it yesterday.” Actually, she was more than annoyed. You hadn’t seemed special at all when you’d been there opening weekend. Your grandfather was sweet but nothing about that day could explain why three of the players were willing to bend the rules to find you again.

Tom’s voice rang in her ears: he’s got it bad for her. That didn’t quite fit what she was seeing, but she cooled down a little.

She didn’t even have to shoo him away, his thank you, ma’am, sorry to bother you made her feel like an old lady as he turned on his heels and trotted off.

The younger Miller was increasingly thoughtful, but he could feel something shift in the air. Then he shrugged it off. He was sure he’d find out, sooner or later.

“Ben, where’s your brain?” Catfish had caught him making eyes upside-down at the girl standing by the athletic trainer while he was mid workout. He didn’t really need a partner to work out, but they tried to go together, to spot on another and to argue over who could bench press the most.

He watched as his friend’s brain and body scrambled to put down the weights and he stood up too fast.

Across the room, girlish laughter bubbled and Benny blushed, still not attending as he grabbed the water bottle he was being offered and squirted himself in the mouth.

“What?”

Frankie shot him an amused look, gesturing vaguely, his point now proven. This had happened before. The young player was almost certainly going to tell him some random information now to distract him and trying to avoid the inevitable teasing.

“Did you know Tom got her number?”

It worked. There was almost no context, but he knew immediately and there was a twist in his stomach. It was the answer to a question he didn’t know had been on his mind - Catfish fully short circuited.

Redfly got your number? That was why Frankie had found him putting the moves on you before they were scheduled to meet. He was shaking his head, dazed, when Ben added, “And Santi got it a couple days ago, too.”

A moment of silence, and then,

“Fucking what?!”

Heads around the private gym turned.

Ben hissed for quiet as he dragged him towards the locker room, and he found himself allowing it as he heart tried to catch up with his mind. No way Pope was going after you too.

“Weird, right?” Frankie felt like ‘weird’ was putting it mildly.

“I just asked for it,”

“You -"

“- because I wanted to be friends, but,” the younger man was ignoring his sputtering panic. He didn’t know if he should be mad or grateful. “Why wouldn’t they tell us?”

That stopped his racing heart. That was the question, wasn’t it? Frankie dragged his hand down his face, smoothed his mustache, readjusted his hat, trying fruitlessly to ground himself.

He said something noncommittal in response, barely hearing himself as he changed the topic. Ben was watching him, he could tell, but it wasn’t as though he could explain why he had reacted so strongly. He didn’t even know why.

It’s not like the feel of you against his hand was all he had been thinking about for the past few days.

His head was spinning, and not in the same way as when he had heard you were at the last game.

Of course other men had their eyes on you. You were gorgeous. His hand twitched on the locker as an image of him pressing you against it flashed through his mind. Shoving it down, he moved on.

You were smart, too, and kind. Certainly he couldn’t be the only one who liked the way you looked when you were thinking, or the little messiness of your hair, or the curve of your neck and shoulders as you leaned against the table.

There was a flare of something green in his chest. He was thinking about your hand on his arm, the way it made him feel like he was your anchor, the white lines on the ground guiding your feet. That, was his. For a moment, his brain reminded him of your lips on Pope’s cheek, your fingers on Benny’s shoulder, and palm on Redfly’s jaw. The locker door resonated in the quiet room as he slammed it shut. Even your eyes in Ironhead's for just a moment… it made him want to kidnap you, press into your space, surround you with his body until all you could see or touch or think about was him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe what he was aching for was for there to be a room full of handsome, athletic, perfect men, and for you to seek him. Find his eyes, and hold them in yours until you reached each other. To choose him.

Either. Or maybe both.

Whatever he’d been saying got lost on his tongue.

Benny was looking at him thoughtfully, and Frankie sighed, his anger slowing to a simmer. It was absurd, he knew that. Knowing didn’t make it go away, but it helped.

Really, he should be lucky he got any of you at all, that alone was a minor league miracle. Hiking his bag up, he clapped his friend on the shoulder and changed the topic once again.

The smell of dirt and grass and sweaty men faded as they walked out of the room, and when someone made a group chat that included you, Frankie remembered that he liked his friends. The bats in his bag clanged like bells, and Ben said something that made him laugh, and he thought he was a fool to have forgotten it.

Santiago was the first one there, over half an hour early, by accident or design you had no idea. He made all of James' things look small, and it made you laugh, because you knew it was only the beginning.

You’d been added to a group chat a few days ago. The list of total bizarre things happening to you was increasing every day of knowing them but you couldn’t exactly complain. It was exciting and honestly, you ached for them in a way you couldn’t explain. Seeing Santiago sent sharp excitement through the anxiety of preparation, but even with the handsome man removing his shoes, you couldn’t help but check behind him for Francisco.

It had been a joke, sort of. They had invited you out and you retaliated by saying you owed them a meal. You should’ve known, already, they weren't afraid to take you up on it, and you’d had to use James as your crutch. His house was much bigger than your apartment, and he was so excited to talk to them it was adorable. Before you’d even turned to Santi properly, they were already chatting, and you watched, smiling.

He looked good. It really was almost as if they actually were family – not physically but you could see it in how they interacted. Santi was more cleaned up than he’d been at the bar, thanking your grandfather like it really was an honor to be welcomed into his home. Jimbo was standing as tall as he could to scruff the younger man’s perfect hair, and you laughed as he clarified that they were always welcome, as long as they helped cook. And when Santi grinned, agreeing readily, the line on his forehead smoothed.

The stress of hosting even such strange guests lessened again, and you slipped back into the kitchen.

Not two minutes later, he found you there, and you could feel him watching you, lounging against the door as graceful and powerful as a panther. Slicing vegetables to grill, you let him, for the time being. He would tell you what he was thinking if he wanted to.

It made you smile again, when his large, calloused hands began to make motions for you to let him take over. Determined or maybe even insistent, but not entitled. He mimicked your cuts, checking silently for your approval, and you saw something in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before.

Over food and drinks he had been smart and clever and passionate – an idyllic picture for over-ambitious fans. None of that was gone, but there was another layer under it, something distinctly humble, and if your dreams hadn’t already been occupied, you might’ve fallen in love with him a little bit. Prepping food to the sounds of quiet music and the rhythmic thumps of the knife against the cutting board felt domestic, but in a familial way. There was no pressure for words, for you, and when he did speak, it seemed as though he agreed.

“This might sound fu… uh, stupid but I’m glad there aren’t bobble heads around.” Of him and his friends, he implied. You wondered if he checked his language for your sake, or out of mindfulness for James.

“He really respects you guys,” you shrugged. “He’s always lecturing me on remembering that you’re human, and not overstepping normal people boundaries.”

Pausing your salad assembly, you stole a glance at him, only to find deep brown eyes looking at you curiously. His hand scraped over the stubble on his jaw, and you could almost see his thoughts, running diamonds in his head.

“Is that why you shot Redfly down?” he wasn’t looking at you, so he missed the tilt of you head. You didn’t need to know the nickname to know what he was talking about, but he clarified a moment later.

You weren't prepared for this to come up, but it shouldn’t have surprised you.

“Yes and no,” was the most honest answer. “He’s already got a girl, whether he knows it or not.” You felt good, talking to him, good like laughing, so you did. It was a strange moment, when the team’s outfield dreamboat had leaned in to kiss you, and you turned him away, but it wasn’t weighing on you at all.

Santiago was grinning at you, hands still, and you wondered if this was the first moment the two of you were seeing each other clearly. Biases and judgement and wariness stripped away easily in the kitchen, like the peels of potatoes.

“So,” his tone and eyes were mischievous, and you had never felt more like an almost stranger was your brother. “If one of the other guys asked you out, you would consider it?”

Face flaring with heat, you barely contained a squawk. He let out a triumphant noise and you shoved him. There was no doubt he wasn’t talking about himself, but you still wanted to melt into the floor.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen –”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Both of you were laughing when the other men pushed through the front door.

Santi answered their raised eyebrows by sticking out his tongue.

There was moments all the time in baseball, where when you have the ball and have to choose which opposing player gets to make it safe and who you’re going to try to get out. It’s a split second where you feel torn in two, and that was exactly how Frankie felt now.

When he had seen you, flushed and laughing, part of him wanted to give a damn thank you speech to Pope for helping bless the world with that, and the other part of him wanted to murder his best friend.

They had all pushed into the little home and he tried to focus on greeting James and looking at the cozy, dated furniture, the humble decorations, clearly cleaned just for them. There had been a moment, where you’d waved at what felt like just him, and his heart rate had doubled. He tried to talk with the guys, the friend you had invited, or help grill or set the table or … anything, but all he wanted was to find you again.

Staying by your side the other night felt as natural and the ball hitting the palm of his glove, time and time again. It was exactly where he was meant to be.

And you were so lovely he wanted you to press into him so close he absorbed just a fraction of your glow. He wanted to wrap you up and take you with him wherever he went, or maybe just settle into your shadow, to follow you forever. It felt greedy, which he didn’t really mind, but the problem was that it was unrealistic.

You were working hard to be a good host, floating around, making sure everyone was content, helping, handling things, or happily having heaping helpings of your cooking. There was another game on the TV, and James was telling stories, and his friends had made themselves right at home. In a strange way, it felt like a Sunday with his abuelos, and cousins, casual and comfortable. It was telling, of you, fitting, and he liked that, but it was distinctly missing... you.

Santi found him, listening to James, trying not to look over his shoulder for you, hand twitching to find it’s place on you again. They kept their voices low, trying to be respectful, as they caught up on the last few minutes, hours, days. Frankie felt a pang of guilt, wondering if he had been subconsciously avoiding his friend. There was still some more private communicating they had to do… He offered Pope a drive. That would do it.

There was an understanding as the looked at each other, under the music and talk, and clatter of dishes. Will was making James laugh, loud and care-free. The uneasiness settled in his gut – he trusted Santi with his life. He could certainly trust him now, with whatever this was.

Not long after, Frankie found himself being herded through the little house, around tables with glasses and napkins, and back into the little kitchen. There was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, and then he was alone with you, for the very first time.

Your eyes were big, staring at him, as you held a pile of dirty dishes.

He wanted to kiss you.

Of course, he didn’t, only cursing himself as he awkwardly offered to help. When you shook your head, your hair fluffed, and with the sunlight through the window, he was having trouble remembering how to function.

Frankie was solid, known for being sturdy and safe. Not like Will was, with his ethics and upbringing like roots into the ground, but that of Atlas, supporting the world on his shoulders.

He was the cornerstone of the team, the background man behind the curtain, with hair and eyes and thighs that Santi swore made women swoon.

And he was doing dishes in the kitchen of your grandfathers house, weak in the knees because you had smiled at him, impressed and grateful. His mind was telling at him to talk to you more, to say something interesting or impressive or to make you laugh when he heard you yelp.

The sound was awful, and adrenaline pumped into his blood as he realized you were hurt. Swinging around he didn’t see you for a moment before registering you had sat down, hard, and were clutching your wrist. There was a thick line, throbbing and an angry red – burnt.

When his knees hit the tile, he didn’t even notice the dull pain. His hands grasped yours as you tried to apologize, explaining the stove was still hot after you had turned it off. Frankie heard you, really he did, but he mind was chanting do something! And stringing Spanish curses, demanding that he protect you, that he fix it.

He didn’t realize how close he was to you until your eyes found his. it crashed into him the realization that if he leaned forward, tilted his head a bit, and sunk a little lower onto his knees, he could have your mouth against his.

Panic slowing, he looked at you. You were so sweet and beautiful, collapsed on the kitchen floor with him like the two of you were the only things in the world, and you were trying to tell him you were fine, that it was a silly accident. Frankie felt ridiculous, caught up in his thoughts, and he just... threw aside logic.

Time stopped, and he kissed the burn.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name

#apparently i like it when big strong men are bad at talking because they're thinking too much #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

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dragynkeep · 3 years ago

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Small backstory: Pretty recently I saw a post discussing whether or not Ironwood is a veteran and how it affected the narrative based on your culture. I pointed out that he wasn't alive for the war 80 years ago and another random internet user mentioned the faunus wars, which were mentioned in the first valume... never again. When I asked whether they knew the exact dates those were happening and they responded with "Sometime after the war", so I to prove my point of James not being engaged with any human on human/human on faunus conflict I decided to use Ghira of all people for comparison in age... I think they're about the same age if we look at the material given us by the show itself... So none. I just think they're about the same age.

Anyway I said that if Ironwood fought in those wars so did Ghira, which would put a lot of his actions and character traits under question. Such as his pacifism and naive attitude towards the human-faunus conflict. And if he didn't... Well... Let's not forget that his family has a giant mansion in manajerie and that's already very sus. Him not fighting in the war while Ironwood did would make him and his family seem even more privileged compared to other faunus.

And then they responded with and I quote "Orrrr, ghira’s valor in the war is what earned him the title of king of furry island. Guy fights pretty good for a pacifist, and he could avoid conflict because he knows that as bad as things are now for the Faunus, it’s nothing compared to before the war. But that’s just a theory, *A Game Theory*" I know this isn't that serious but when I read this I snapped for unbeknownst reasons.

And I'm just gonna paste the stuff I responded with because I'm not typing that again-

That only raises more concerns to his weird optimism and naivety towards humans and their intentions. As well as puts his intelligence and how he precieves violence under question. Let's not forget that he, and everyone else in his group would have probably died and thrown in a ditch somewhere by the road if it weren't for Adam killing their attackers (ONE of their attackers). And after the encounter he only chastised Adam for his actions without much explanation, after being shot at by the humans (and possibly wounded by them, his aura seemed to crack and he flinched but that was it), the ones who treated their kin as slaves and just now threatened their lives. And they have definitely killed faunus before, from how the guy that shot Ghira had spoken. And Adam didn't even act on his own, he looked at Sienna who gave him permission... Sienna was Ghiras second in command at that moment if I recall correctly, and still Adam was the only one chastised.

I like their take but Ghira is just way too sus for me to believe that to be honest.

...I wish we were given more actual worldbuilding and lore in the series.

And the more I think about it the more I hated both Ghira and that response with a passion.

Anyway Ghira is an awful leader and person in many ways and the take that "He earned his place as the furry king on the island by his valor in the war" only makes him worse.

I realise that I stumbled into this conversation myself and dealt psychic damage to me myself (let this be a lesson for me) but what's done is done.

And all this over bad writing....

In any case I probably repeated myself several time through this rant and my english might not be as good as I think so sorry in advance if this turns out as a waste of time

this absolutely encapsulates why i hate the bellaparents; because they don’t enrich the world in anyway & actively make blake’s storyline worse, as well as those connected to them like sienna, adam & ilia.

i don’t think ghira was “made king of furry island due to his valour in the war” because we see pictures of some belladonna ancestors in the mansion; they’re obviously not ghira or kali but look enough like them to be related. meaning this is an inherited position of power & actually represents a monarchy much more accurately than what the person you were debating with actually said, kings aren’t elected. they’re chosen by birthright, nothing they actually did & ghira ... does nothing. menagerie is so dangerous but the only defence force we see is situated in his home. his people are suffering in tiny huts on a squished island but we see him in a massive mansion that is never seemed to be used for any just cause like a government building; nor do we ever see that he seems to try & improve anything for the faunus.

he allows blake to blame faunus on their isolated island for the actions of a radicalized diaspora he’s responsible for; his inaction led to the radicalization of the white fang & he did nothing about them until they put their problems on his front door by harming his child. until his own family was brought into it, ghira canonically was more than content enough to do nothing about the organization he spearheaded & then let fall to ruin. all because of his own limp wristed pacifisim that is just as harmful as the radicalized ideals of the current white fang.

now they’re back in his hands & i don’t see how this time it’s going to be different when he’s still the same privileged faunus with outdated ideals on how to deal with humans who are still violent & dangerous.

#rwby #rwde #ghira belladonna #ghira belladonna critical #owl.txt #answered #q

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totallytododeku · 4 years ago

Text

☁ studying together ( x reader hc's) ☁

characters: midoriya, bakugou, todoroki, kirishima, yaoyorozu, uraraka, + ashido

genre: fluff <33

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

I. Midoriya 🌳🍀🌻

this poor boy is so excited to be spending time with you

but he will not take his nose out of his textbook

he can't help it

he's so happy to be in the hero course he takes his schoolwork a little too seriously

however, you can use this to your advantage ;)

normally you're almost as invested in his journey to becoming the next Symbol of Peace and achieving his dream as he is

and you would never dream of doing anything that could jeopardize it

So you were silently bouncing off the walls with glee when you realized he was impervious to distractions when it came to studying

literally anything is fair game

which is why studying with him is your new favorite time of day

pet his hair

kiss his cheeks

climb into his lap

pat his head

hold his non-dominant hand

hug him from behind his chair

rest your head on his shoulder and take a nap

do whatever you want

you can basically do anything to him while he's studying without having to worry about distracting him

he will blush a little bit of you kiss him but but you think it's adorable

lol turn on whatever tv or music you want

but only if you're done with your work!!

hes very adamant that you keep up with your work as best you can do you can graduate side by side and be pro heroes together someday

K. Bakugou 💣💥 📢

he would totally be the one to invite you to study and he would probably want to study in his dorm

it's super quiet and nobody will bother you guys because they know it's that spiky gremlin's room

overall his room just has a really relaxing atmosphere

you love being near him as much as possible

and he's much more affectionate in the comfort of his dorm room

but that doesn't mean he's gonna go easy on u ;-;

he still has his gruff attitude and will make sure you're studying every day

or else he will call u baka and force you to sit down and study until you know all your material

he's actually a great tutor tho

he writes out all the work for each problem and explains them thoroughly

all while holding in you in his arms while you sit in his lap

sometimes you can convince him to play a game with you where every time you get an answer right he gives you a kiss

but you whine when you get one wrong and he won't kiss you

he huffs before giving you a kiss while still trying to look annoyed

stupid girl he mutters

but he pulls you a bit closer to him to hide his blush and moves on to the next problem despite your giggles

S. Todoroki ❄🔥🍜

he doesn't really need to study but he doesn't know how to just .. relax

like he doesn't know how to not do what his dad tells him to do

and his dad wants him to study

it's just easier for Todoroki to do what his dad wants than to rebel

that is, it was

Until he met you and the dekusquad

obviously everyone cares about their homework and wants to graduate well and go Plus Ultra!

but study sessions with Todoroki usually end up just being you guys trying to help him be less hard on himself while you have him as a captive audience

he doesn't really mind, though, especially when it's just you two

the intimacy of studying together in comfortable silence and just

enjoying each other's company

makes his heart go (*￣∇￣*)

like i said he doesn't really need to study so he'll just end up helping you review material

please just ... hold his hand :)

after you're done studying for the day just pull him into a hug and over to your bed

he needs a nap

you feel warm fuzzies inside from how caring he's been to sit with you while you finished your homework and bring you warm tea

you don't even think you just

Time for cuddles :3

it becomes your daily ritual to study together and then cuddle

he always falls asleep in your arms with a small smile

E. Kirishima 🗿🗿🗿

(HAHAHSHNSJ THE 🗿 EMOJI OMG I'M LITERALLY SO FUNNY LOL I'M CRYING)

"Okay, Y/N, let's study hard and do our homework like men!" *fist-pumping the air and grinning like an idiot*

"...what's so funny? "

he doesn't care if you're not a man it's his trademark

he likes to study at his desk because he says it's "important to stay focused and work diligently"

generally he is the least focused person, ever. besides kaminari.

however, he's so energetic and enthusiastic that once you sit down and start studying he'll be able to keep your motivation up until you've finished all your homework

GREAT at studying for tests and quizzes (in theory)

he will never give up

like I said he could keep studying for hours once he sets his mind to it

So you have to compromise and get him to study in short bursts throughout the day to help him have a better chance of remembering anything ;-;

his memory is not great but it's kinda cute

you, being the smart cookie that u are, realized the best way to help him memorize things was to study with flashcards frequently throughout the weekend while doing other activities

so you plan to hang out together and do something fun every week while having your study material on index cards in your back pockets

it's a literal study date.

a weekly date out to the mall or the park or a little coffee shop but with math trivia thrown in randomly throughout the afternoon!! :D

Of course he was ready to turn it into a game he's a literal puppy

he just wants to show you you can be proud of him

you giggle lightly when you hear him say that and let him know that you'll always be proud of him, no matter what

M. Yaoyorozu 👑🏆☕

studyblr wants what u have.

studying in momo's room makes you feel like a Victorian young lady studying moral philosophy, writing poetry about the mourning doves outside the garden window, and waiting for her husband to come home from sailing the seven seas

it's your Belle moment where she's in the royal library except it's every day

stacks of beautiful, old books

the smell of the crisp, white pages

soft classical music floating through the air

the window cracked open slightly

and you are the luckiest student in all of UA because you get to study with the smartest girl in the whole school

she's also gorgeous and sweet and perfect which def doesn't hurt

u know that joke that ur teacher can spend a year explaining something and u never understand but then a random indian guy on YouTube explains it in 2 minutes and you finally get it

she is that random indian guy

you will never struggle with a single concept after you start studying with her

And she's so proud of you for every little question you answer correctly

(even thought she's the one that explained it all so well in the first place)

it's the definition of comfortable silence

she insists that neither of you study too hard and that you take lots of breaks to stretch

she says its to help you stay concentrated but really she just wants to feel your gentle hands on her shoulders as you massage out the knots

you take turns kneading the tension out of each other's shoulders

you feel a pleasant tingle down your spine at the feeling of her soft breath on the back of your neck

She pulls away and you share awkward smiles, neither of you realizing the other one of blushing, too

(((*≧艸≦)ﾌﾟﾌﾟｯ

O. Uraraka 🌜🚀🙏

ur actually super productive study buddies

Like u started studying together and then all of a sudden you were almost at the top of your class

she's just so sweet that being with her gives you the energy you need to write that essay all in one sitting instead of procrastinating like a normal person

Shows up at your dorm with snacks and drinks to keep your energy up!! :D

even though she's still going to end up getting sleepy anyway later in the afternoon

You get most of your studying done at the beginning of your study date so it's not really a problem

you know she doesn't have a lot of money to be throwing around so you pay for dinner every night

It's usually takeout but sometimes you guys make your own dinner for fun!

it always turns out almost inedible and burned because neither of you were paying attention to the stove

don't let baku see it or he'll start screaming about how you need to try your best at everything so he can beat you fair and square and that includes cooking too

neither you nor uraraka can handle spicey food so you never eat what Bakugou cooks for the class

You grab a few bags of chips and some sushi and shut yourselves in your dorm to pull an all-nighter study session about once a month

it should make you tired but, again, studying with her is so enjoyable that you don't mind

u two enjoy each others company in studying so much that you sometimes read ahead in your textbooks just to be able to study more

overall, hanging out with her is just lighthearted and filled with giggles

and you just so happen to get all your homework done along the way

M. Ashido 👾👽🚿

"studying" with her is so much fun

Hanging out with Mina in general is so much fun

it's impossible not to smile when she's around so even if you have a huge exam tomorrow, all your worries fade away just from being with her

She is pretty distracting in cases where you actually wanted to get stuff done

But you don't care

Change of plans

you're doing mani pedi's with Mina

No more studying

it's not as bad as it sounds though

You're not slacking off or anything and you can still keep your grades up with help from your other friends like Momo and Iida

you guys are just goofing off in the privacy of your dorm room when you should be studying

"It's not a crime to be young, Y/ N ;)"

she's just so energetic and happy like a little pink ball of sunshine

you can't help but laugh at her silliness and cute antics after a long day of classes

she makes your heart beat faster like you're on a roller coaster but without the nerves

somehow you feel giddy and comfortable in her presence at the same time

it doesn't matter what you two are doing, you always have fun

make sure she goes to bed on time, though, or she might end up baking a seven-tier cake at 3 am and Bakugou will scream at you for waking him up

don't feed her after midnight lmao

i started writing this after i almost died of boredom in my online calc class. my senioritis is already kicking in and it's still September (｡-ω-)

#boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader fluff #bnha headcannons #bakugou katsuki x reader fluff #midoriya izuku x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shoto todoroki #Uraraka ochako #uraraka ochako x reader #Mina ashido x reader #yaoyorozu momo x reader #yaomomo #Kirishima eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader fluff headcannons #study date #hc

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yehet-me-up · 4 years ago

Text

Fractions of Tomorrow

Pairing: Zitao/Reader (female)

Word Count: 10,249

Rating/Warnings: PG13

Summary: They always say opposites attract but you and Tao are putting that theory to the test. He works nights at Flanagan’s, you work the crack of dawn shift at Starbucks. He wears leather jackets, sings in a rock band, and drives a motorcycle. You prefer Keds to Chucks, study poetry at UW, and ride a pastel purple bike across town. Luckily, he’s not someone who’s afraid of a challenge.

When Baekhyun dares you and Tao to test the idea that two people can fall in love in one night you don’t expect to care so much, so fast. And when the sun rises all you can hope is that he feels the same.

Part seven of the Exodus Mall series (Can be read independently, but you’ll get some extra backstory if you read the other parts first!)

February 28, 1997

His head aches, body still reeling from the alcohol he drank far too much of the night before. The line at Starbucks is endlessly long and he groans. If he was responsible he’d go to the grocery across the street and get a decent breakfast. But his brain needs a substitute for the gin he was coerced into last night by his friends and it will only accept caffeine as an offering.

A saccharine song pours in from the speakers and people around him clear their throats or rustle in their pockets and the sheer noise of the morning grates against him. He’s a creature of the night; he finds other humans far more tolerable without the sun beating down on him. Only desperation pulled him from his hangover to acquire the nectar of the gods. He taps his foot and shrugs his jacket further up his body, hoping the collar will keep the bright light pouring in from the tall windows from reaching him.

A sweet voice breaks through the din and he turns to watch you, drawn by the warmth of the sound. It’s not his first time here, but it’s his first time paying attention. In the thriving ecosystem of the Exodus Mall everyone’s a friend of a friend of a cousin of someone and he distantly remembers you’re related to one of Baekhyun’s friends.

Maybe it’s the way early mornings after late nights distort the world, making everything feel hazy like a dream. Maybe it’s the fact that he went home alone last night, yet again. Maybe it’s the bright, energetic shine in your eyes, astounding for the pre-eight-am time. Or maybe it’s the dimple in your cheek when you smile at the customer, writing his name on the cup and passing it to your co-workers.

When the man moves aside and you turn your focus on Tao, for whatever reason, his intuition tells him to notice. Maybe it’s an illusion, but today feels different. You feel different.

‘Hi, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get you?’

He opens his mouth, unsure what to say. For a long beat he simply observes you. The little hearts drawn around your name on your name tag. He rolls it around in his mind, matching your face with the word, almost saying it aloud. A dangerous proposition. A door he should leave shut.

Someone coughs behind him and he shakes his head, stepping forward. ‘Just a big Americano please. As big as possible.’ His voice is thick and his throat dry. One day he’ll remember to drink a glass of water before bed after getting drunk.

You nod, reaching to the stack of cups. ‘A grande?’

He swallows to wet his throat. ‘Sure.’

‘Name?’

With a deep inhale he smells last night’s cologne still clinging to his skin. God he needs to get his shit together, he thinks with a sigh. His general state of dishevelment is even more noticeable next to you. He wonders if you ironed the collar of your shirt to be that precise or if you simply move through the world without acquiring any wrinkles.

‘Zitao,’ he says finally.

‘Cute.’ You say it under your breath but he still hears. His eyes go wide, his sluggish mind coming awake. After handing the cup to your co-worker you say the total. ‘That’ll be four oh two please.’

Automatically he reaches into his pocket for his wallet and pulls out the five dollar bill. He knows he’s staring like an idiot but he can’t help it. You hand him his change and on reflex he drops it into the tip jar. Service industry solidarity, he thinks with a half-smile.

The smile on your face blossoms; tentative at first, it grows when his eyes meet yours again. ‘Thank you!’ You pull a small coffee can out from beside the register and hold it out to him. ‘Anyone who tips gets a poem.’

He stares at the can and the slips of paper neatly folded within. Amusement fills him and he reaches for one at random, his fingers brushing yours as he pulls back. The sensation makes him want to linger. How long has it been since he touched someone, in the daylight? Since he wanted to hold and be held? Tao tells himself it doesn’t matter. It can’t. He’s got plans to leave Seattle and he doesn’t need anything tethering him here.

Before he embarasses himself he slides the paper into his pocket with a nod and moves on down the line. As he waits for his drink he keeps his focus on you. The efficiency of your motions and the genuine happiness on your face as you take order after order on the busy Friday morning. People come and go around him but he leans against the wall, waiting, thinking.

Finally his drink is done and the cup spreads heat along his chilled palms. The world is too sharp and demanding and the thought of a day full of errands on too little sleep followed by a full shift at the bar drags at him. But the smell of coffee and your smile and the mystery poem in his pocket are life preservers thrown to him today. He clings to them with both hands to keep himself afloat.

On his way out he finally reads the poem you’ve gifted to him. The writing is done with small, neat lettering and he knows it’s yours.

There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled.

There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled.

You feel it, don’t you?

- Rumi

With a groan he pushes out the door with his shoulder, blinking on the too-bright sidewalk. It’s too early to feel so raw and exposed, he decides.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday July 18, 1997

You trail into Flanagan’s Pub after Baekhyun and your sister, Hitchcock. It’s not her real name, but she’s had the nickname so long it might as well be. As always, they argue about movies. As always, you’re the third wheel. Not that they’re actually dating. But everyone agrees they should.

‘Come on, it was brilliant.’ Baekhyun waves his hands dramatically as you wind your way around the crowded bar after them.

‘I’m not saying it wasn’t,’ she responds. They slide into a booth opposite each other and you follow after your sister. ‘All I’m saying is it’s unrealistic, that’s all.’

Baekhyun scoffs, offended. ‘As if realism was the point here.’ You unfold the drink menu while he carries on, undeterred. ‘I know you’re not a hopeless romantic like myself, but are you honestly telling me that you don’t think it’s possible?’

Tonight’s Friday-movie-night tradition was your first viewing of The Fifth Element and Korben and Leeloo’s instant connection has revived their years-long argument about love at first sight. You roll your eyes when your sister shakes her head, leaning forward to tease him. She’s told you about her crush on Baekhyun, her best friend. For someone who’s been in love for as long as you can remember she fights awfully hard against Baekhyun’s romantic nature. Methinks the lady doth protest too much…

‘Look at Before Sunrise,’ Baekhyun says with a click of his tongue. ‘One night and they fell in love.’

She hums and scans the menu. ‘So what? It’s just one night. Show me what happens ten years later. After they see each other with messy morning hair and when he leaves dishes in the sink or, I don’t know, when she bites her nails.’ Baekhyun huffs and she smothers a laugh. ‘Let’s see how that instant love does after it’s put to the test. I’m not saying it isn’t possible, I’m just saying one night doesn’t mean it will stand the test of time, that’s all.’ She folds her menu and rests her elbows on the table, looking incredibly smug.

Baekhyun opens his mouth to argue but the server arrives and interrupts his tirade. ‘What can I get for you?’

The gravelly voice is familiar and your eyes widen in surprise when you see Tao towering over the table. Quickly you look away, back to the dark wood table.

You’ve noticed him before - at Starbucks, at parties at Baek’s from a distance, at Moe’s ages ago - but tonight he’s so cleaned up you hardly recognize him. Gone are the bags under his eyes and the nervous, jittery, curmudgeon energy that seemed to hang over him like a dark cloud. Tonight his eyes are alert and crinkle at the corner when he smiles broadly and you can’t help but notice. A very bad idea.

‘Hey man, how’s it going?’ Baekhyun reaches out and does a complex handshake with the man before you.

‘Oh, you know. Just working at the salt mines,’ Tao says with a laugh. ‘Are you coming to Chan and Soo’s party tomorrow night?’

‘You know it. I wouldn’t miss your big send off. My man here is taking off on a national tour on Sunday. Local boy making it big!’ Baekhyun gives Tao a friendly punch on the arm before drumming his fingers on the table and raising a brow. ‘Since you’re here, maybe you can settle an argument for us.’

Tao darts a look to you and clears his throat. ‘Sure thing. Lay it on me.’

‘Do you believe you can fall in love with someone in one night?’ Baekhyun waggles his brows at your sister and she groans. ‘Like, soulmates burning-down-the world you’re the person I’ve waited for always Blockbuster kind of love.’

He tilts his head to the side, considering. After a moment he shrugs. ‘I’m not sure.’ For a flash Tao’s eyes linger on you once more. ‘I think it would depend on the person.’ And then the bastard goes and winks at you.

Baekhyun snorts and lounges back in the booth, resting his arm on the back of the seat. 'Good luck, buddy. You'd have better luck charming a brick wall. She only reads about love these days, Double Shot here is a bit gun-shy at putting it into practice again.’

You glare at Baekhyun, body going rigid at being called out. For as long as he's been your sister's best friend he's acted like a surrogate older brother to you. He vacillates between telling you it’s good you’re so focused on your studies and telling you that you're too serious, too focused on school and work. Since you got broken up with Baekhyun seems focused on the latter, always needling you to go out and have fun. But, as they say, once burned twice shy.

You focus intently on your hands resting on the table and absolutely avoid looking at Tao. From the first time you rang him up at Starbucks you knew his gaze would see more than you'd like. He's the type to see through every bullshit line you give about how you’re fine being alone, fine with how things ended, fine fine fine.

If life was kind the three of you would order and Tao would leave and that would be the end of it. You could safely stay in your cocoon and hide. But of course, life doesn't play fair.

Tao sticks the pen behind his ear and folds his arms. ‘Is that a bet?’

Your cheeks warm and your heart races. Finally, you look up to him fully. 'Excuse me?'

He shrugs and gives you a lopsided smile. 'If you're game, of course. What do you say, shall we put this to the test?'

'You want to see if we'd fall in love in a night?' You're certain you look like a terrified animal. In a vain attempt to fold yourself back into someone confident you lean against the booth, pressing your feet to the ground and making your spine tall and straight. 'What makes you think you're even my type?'

‘Sweetheart, I’m everyone’s type.’

God knows he probably is. Tall, handsome bad boy who sings like an angel, drives a stupidly hot motorcycle, and looks like he knows the fastest way to make you come undone with just a look. But charming is only skin deep and in return you want to see if there’s anything underneath it that would keep your interest.

‘Fine, then.’ You hold out your hand. ‘I’ll take your bet.’ Stubborn, always so stubborn. Baekhyun giggles and claps excitedly as you grip Tao’s rough, much larger hand.

Your sister leans across you to stare Tao down. 'Hang on. I'm not about to let her go off with some random dude. How do we know you're trustworthy?' Hitchcock has turned her interrogation mode on. ‘I’ve seen you around, but I don’t know you from Bruce Willis.’

He must have other tables to attend to, other things to do, but he rests his palms on the table and leans down to meet her glare. 'I'm an open book. Ask me anything.' The move brings him inches from you. He smells like whisky, the kind that burns, and you swallow instinctively in response.

She narrows her eyes and hums. 'How old are you?'

'Twenty three.'

'Did you go to school?'

He chuckles. 'High school. No need for college.'

'Why not?' You speak up, preparing for an argument. He looks like he could actually keep up with you and a spark of excitement grows low in your body.

'Between singing and bartending I make plenty of money.’ He answers you, not your sister. ‘Don't get me wrong, I respect an education. But I get far more inspiration from living life than from just reading about it.'

You bristle. As a poetry major this feels like a personal attack. ‘Are you telling me you’ve never read anything that made you feel - I don’t know - inspired. Magical. Exposed?' You press your lips together, wishing you could gather the words back.

Tao looks at you through his lashes, bending close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips when he speaks. ‘Words are just the appetizer, darling. I prefer to have an entire feast.’

His dancing eyes dart down to your lips. But then he straightens, pulling the pen out and readying it on the pad. You grip the table to avoid swaying towards him and almost hate him for how much of a magnetic pull he seems to have over you. 'Any other questions or can I grab your orders?'

Baekhyun orders a Smirnoff Ice, delight pouring off him. Your sister narrows her eyes at Tao for a moment. Finally, she relents and orders a sex on the beach. You stare at the red plaid shirt tied around Tao’s hips and order something. An Appletini maybe? Your mind seems to have abandoned you but thankfully Tao nods and winds his way back through the crowd to the bar. In his absence you can breathe fully and look up to see Baekhyun smirking.

‘What?’ you practically groan at him.

‘Oh, nothing.’ He looks like the cat that caught the canary. ‘I just love being right.’

Hitchcock kicks him under the table and he winces, reaching for his shin. They resume their discussion, transitioning to talking about their opening shifts at the theater tomorrow and how much they can reasonably drink tonight and still be functional in the morning. You drum your nails on the lacquered wood table and wonder if your heart is racing from the heat of the packed bar or from the prospect of Tao holding you to your bargain.

The man himself comes back with drinks a moment later. When he slides the light green concoction across the table to you he tilts his head in question. ‘So, how about tonight?’

You choke on your sip and fight the burn in your throat. ‘Are you serious? So soon?’

He grins. ‘Why, did you want time to get ready? I think if we’re going to put it to the test it would have to be tonight. Also, I leave on Sunday morning, so the clock is ticking so to speak.’

‘But I work tomorrow at Starbucks. At the crack of dawn.’ You sputter, waving your hand in front of you. ‘I didn’t think you-’

‘Guess we should get started soon, then.' He winks again and you're tempted to throw your drink at him, just to get the upper hand. ‘I get off at nine.’ Without another word he puts the serving tray under his arm and leaves.

Your sister rolls her eyes. ‘You’re such a bad influence, Baek.’

He throws his arms out wide. ‘I can’t help it baby, I’m a lover. What can I say?’

She snorts and pats you on the back sympathetically. You down your drink in two swallows and absolutely refuse to look at Tao, Baekhyun, or your sister. Instead you pull some bills from your purse and push your way out of the bar before anyone can suggest anything else insane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes you several tries to find a presentable outfit. It's been more than six months since that last fateful date and in the time between you’ve built a literal barrier around yourself, bundling up in sweaters and blankets at home, only emerging for work and class and Friday movie nights.

Baekhyun's words come back to you as you frown and throw yet another outfit on the bed. Are you really a brick wall, impenetrable and cold? You weren't always, surely. Byron's 'and thus, the heart will break, yet brokenly live on' swims in your mind, still fresh from the finals you took just a few weeks ago.

You don't feel broken, just stuck. Numb. Waiting. You hold a dress up to your body and wonder if your ex feels the same or if he, as the one who did the dumping, moved on instantly, and it's just the broken-up-with half that flails around trying to find new footing.

With an defiant press of your lips you sigh and settle on your favorite black and white checkered dress and white Keds. It’s a declaration of intent in a peter pan collar. Your ex always hated your clothes, what you chose to study, your music; everything about you screamed soft and he tried so hard to bend and form you into someone he wanted.

But you are as you are - romantic and idealistic and sweet. You roll your eyes. It’s the truth, and you remind yourself that just because you didn’t match him doesn’t mean you have to change just to make someone else happy. The outfit screams innocence it dares Tao to judge you tonight. As if you care what he thinks. Which you definitely do not.

You barely make it back in time to Flanagan’s. When you rush up Tao is pushing out of the bar onto the street. A thrill runs down your spine at his smile when he sees you. Your ex doesn't control you anymore, you remind yourself. You get to decide when you move on; when you stop mourning something that's dead and over and find something new. Even if it's not with Tao, tonight is an experiment. To see if you can handle a fresh start.

‘Hi,’ you start, breathless from your hurrying.

'Hi yourself. You still game?' he asks, mischief in his eyes and hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. 'If you want an out I won't hold it against you.' He looks you up and down and smirks, but doesn’t comment on your appearance.

In return you scan him as well. His hair is mussed just-so and his earrings match too well to be an accident. He’s trying too, even if his devil-may-care attitude would make others think he’s not. Everyone has an image they present to the world, tonight you’ll find if there’s substance behind Tao’s.

You press your tongue between your teeth and tilt your head at him. 'I'm ready to be surprised.'

He barks out a laugh. ‘Fair enough. I’ll see what I can do’

Tao starts to move towards you across the sidewalk, but you hold out a hand at the level of his chest, stopping his movement. 'So, love, huh? There's not some girlfriend or boyfriend of yours waiting for you at home?'

‘I belong only to myself. For now, at least.' He smiles and holds his arms out wide. His brows tug together suddenly. For a moment he looks unsure. Vulnerable. But the look is gone so fast you wonder if you imagined it. ‘What about you?’

You want to fold in on yourself and turn away, hiding. As if the stain of failure is written across your face. The words that were thrown your way like scarlet letters on your skin for him to see. Prude. Uptight. Tease. Your stomach churns and you’re glad you only had the one drink tonight.

‘Single.’ You suck in a breath after you get the word out, like it stole all the air from your lungs in speaking it.

He nods, holding your gaze for a moment. Those eyes of his drink you in and you’re sure he can see it - the hesitation and the fear. But once more he simply stands tall and gives you space to think. ‘Shall we head towards the waterfront?’

A public place, lively and full of people on a Friday night. Safe, reassuring. He didn’t suggest a club or somewhere heavy with expectation and you like him better for it. Tao waves an arm out in front of you, inviting you to go first and you start walking, clutching your purse under your arm.

He falls into step beside you. 'So I guess if we're going big or going home, shall we start with our dating history?'

You should have expected this level of inquisition, especially from someone who is friends with Baekhyun. ‘Jesus, you don’t pull any punches.’ But against your will you let out a laugh.

There’s something refreshing about someone who seems like, for all his mystery, he doesn’t hold any secrets. Everything out in the cool night air and you wonder if it would be freeing, to let it all go. To not question the words you say. To trust that the person you’re speaking them to will hold them without judgement.

‘Never have, never will,’ he reassures you. The cat-like grin on his lips is teasing. ‘That I can guarantee you. I’m happy to go first, if you’d like?’

You nod, and he sighs, looking through the clouds to the moon that peeks through. The streets are dry for once, a brief respite after the wet Seattle spring. Everyone around you takes in the night with gleeful laughter, on the search for music and connection and entertainment. But even with the full sidewalks around you all you feel compelled to do, inexplicably, is lean in closer to hear Tao.

A group of women brush by you, giggling, forcing you into Tao to avoid them. On instinct he reaches out an arm to keep you both from being overrun. You turn into him and end up meeting his eyes. In the night they’re so dark they look almost black, with flashes of light from passing cars.

The moment stretches around you and irrationally you want to stop him before he says anything else. No stories of the people he’s been with or kissed or loved or wrote songs about. Maybe that’s the appeal of one night love stories, you think. The beginning of love is always a lightning bolt. If that’s all it ever is you never have to deal with being knocked on your ass by the resulting thunderstorm.

The women pass and Tao respectfully brings his hand back to his pocket and time carries on. But the look on his face remains as you both start walking towards the Market again.

‘I should say up front, I uhh - I guess that I’ve never been in a relationship. Actually.’ He runs a hand through his hair and winces like he’s ashamed of it. ‘I came close a few times. But it’s just never worked out.’

You open your mouth but aren’t sure what to say. Do you make fun of him for clearly being a playboy, not wanting to be tied down, fitting the stereotype of the rockstar he’s on a path to becoming? Do you play coy, asking him if you might fit the bill? Or do you reassure him?

The latter feels the most natural. ‘You’re young. It’s the nineties. I don’t think it’s unusual to be playing the field right now.’ You lift a shoulder and shrug, the edge of your black denim jacket slipping down your back a bit with the motion. It exposes the skin of your collarbone above the strap of your dress, where your neck meets your chest.

Tao licks his lips and drags his eyes away from your shoulder to meet yours with a nod. ‘That’s true. I guess most of my friends are single. Sehun is. Jongin is. Baekhyun is, for sure. Even if he is in love with your sister.’ Your jaw drops and Tao bites his lip. ‘Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t tell her I -’

He looks genuinely panicked and you laugh, waving a hand. ‘Trust me, she’s in love with him too. They’re both too stubborn to admit it though. So your secret is safe with me.’

Tao sighs, relaxing, and gives you a half smile. ‘Thank you, I appreciate that.’ The neon lights from the bars and clubs along Pike street pass over his face, painting him dozens of bright colors. ‘So, that’s my story. Too busy working and writing lyrics and singing to be tied down. What’s yours?’

‘That’s hardly a story,’ you challenge, raising a brow. ‘More like the cover of a book.’

‘It’s plenty!’ he laughs. ‘I’ve exposed myself as a perpetually single man. I think that tells you tons about me.’ At your pursed lips he continues. ‘Fine. I’ve been chasing music for so long that I have avoided getting serious with anyone, lest it keep me from my dreams of stardom. I crave that intensity between me and an audience when I sing, but I’m afraid to let myself have something real. Something intimate, that expects more of me past one performance. I’m afraid that off-stage I’m more disappointing than on et cetera et cetera.’

He cuts off his rambling monologue, his eyes widening as he stops in his tracks for a moment, like he can’t believe he just said so much. But you stand next to him without judgement. Something about his disarming honesty and expressiveness makes you want to tell him the truth, ugly that it might be.

While you stand on the corner and wait for the light to change you look at the zipper of his leather jacket to avoid his eyes and spit it out. ‘I got dumped six months ago.’ You lift your hands and drop them uselessly to your side.

He tilts his head back in appraisal. Blessedly the teasing is gone from his face. He doesn’t offer sympathy, cloying and patronizing words about how you’ll find someone else. He doesn’t flirt with you, even though that seems to be his nature.

‘I don’t know the circumstances, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but all I can say is - it’s his loss.’ He gives you a slight smile, not moving even when the light changes, and you can’t help but return it.

It’s strange that it could be so simple. Perhaps if you do carry on something with Tao you’ll tell him more. But for tonight it can be that easy. The pain and doubt and shame can fade into a pinprick of light heading off into the distance and get swallowed up by the night. Like you can just wipe the slate clean and start over. You inhale a deep breath of cool, salty air and look up at Tao, your smile growing, becoming more genuine and whole.

A lightness fills you and you wind your arm through his, pulling him into the crosswalk just as the last few seconds show on the countdown. He lets you guide him easily and you come to rest on the concrete looking down at the Pike Place Market. The bright neon red sign reflects against the dark night and the inky blue waters of the Bay beyond it. In the twilight ships move back and forth through the port, full of tiny lights of their own.

He drops his hand a little, running over the clothed skin of your arm until he reaches your palm. The contact of his hand on yours makes you jolt. ‘Is this okay?’

Without thinking you nod, twining your fingers with his, savoring the heat as he presses against you. Your ex hated holding hands in public, hated any kind of PDA, calling it childish. But Tao stands by your side, hand in hand, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

People mill about you, heading to the endless restaurants and food stands that line the Market. In summer it’s in full bloom, crowded every night, and after a long winter and spring holed up in your apartment it’s disorienting to be out in the world again.

You start walking together, without a plan. It’s far more comfortable than you’d expected, the companionable silence with him. Everyone in your life talks a mile a minute - Baekhyun and your sister, your co-workers at the busy coffee shop, your classmates, hungry for discussion - but Tao seems content to just hold your hand and admire the rows of vendors you pass. The lack of pressure from him eases something that had drawn tight and anxious in your chest over the last few months.

Before you is a maze of stalls. Tables full of tulips in bright yellows and pinks, bouquets wrapped in brown paper, that you stop to smell. Screen printed tee shirts with the Sonics logo or photos of the Space Needle or trendy political puns that Tao points out with a laugh. People sell everything from watercolor paintings to homemade honey to snow globes. As a recent college grad, you’re saving all your money, but everything is still fascinating to look at.

The two of you settle on a kebab place for dinner after a long debate about the merits of the taco cart and the hole-in-the-wall seafood stop. The steam brings the rich smell of meat and vegetables to you. Against your protests to split the bill, Tao insists on buying dinner.

‘If this is an official date I have to follow the guidelines,’ he winks.

You roll your eyes and defiantly go to the next stall to order two Jones sodas from the seller. When you hold them up he laughs and inclines his head. ‘Alright, that’s fair.’

When you’re settled on the narrow rock wall beyond the far edge of the market, balancing Jones sodas on the uneven stones with a warm kebab resting on your knees, he carries on.

'So, poetry. What made you choose that?' He asks around a bite.

After a sip of soda you tilt your head at him. ‘You can't laugh, okay?'

'Why would I laugh?’ His brows furrow like it’s the furthest thing from his mind. ‘I'm a singer, sweetheart. I don't take the arts lightly and anyone who does is an asshole.' He narrows his eyes at you in mock seriousness but the way his mouth fights a smile is endearing.

You snort, liking him yet again without planning on it. ‘I don’t know. I’ve always loved it and sometimes I try to write it. I’ve had some job or another since high school, so I’m confident I can always get a job if I need it but - there’s something so - so delicious about poetry.’ You swallow another drink of your soda and Tao’s eyes flick to the motion of your throat. ‘If I was going to go to college, and our parents kind of insisted on it, I wanted to study something I loved.’

Tao lifts his own soda and clinks it to yours in solidarity. ‘I can respect that. What’s your favorite poem?’

Suddenly shy you turn to set your soda down on the stone beside you, letting your hair fall over your face while you think. It’s not that you don’t know, but that it feels too close, too personal to tell him just yet. ‘That’s very private.’

When you look back to him he holds your gaze for a moment. ‘Hmm. Okay I can respect that. Favorite songs are pretty personal too so I’ll let you hold onto it, for now.’ With a movement as casual as breathing he tucks your hair behind your ear, as though he does it twenty times day, and resumes his eating.

Poems run through your head as you chew, heart racing. You’d thought this was an experiment that would quickly go south. A quick walk to prove that you’re not compatible. A smug ‘I told you so’ to Baekhyun. And then a return to the comfort of your bed to read for the night. You didn’t expect to want him. Words, endless remembered words filter across your consciousness, ones of love and lust and death and the exhilaration of life.

Normally your own creative voice is quiet, too afraid to give permanence to the ideas, the words, that live inside you. But as you watch the gentle night breeze ruffle his dark hair you think you could write some tonight, if you had pen and paper. Instead you shove an enormous bite in your mouth and chew, afraid of the attraction you have to him.

When you’re both done eating he holds his hand out for your trash and you wad up the wrapper and hand it to him along with the empty bottle. He walks over to the trash and dutifully puts the bottles in the recycle, like any good Seattle boy. Dusting off his hands he turns back towards you, approaching slowly and holding out his hands.

After a moment’s hesitation you reach for him, allowing him to help you stand. Continuing the night’s adventure. When you’re on your feet he releases one of your hands, keeping the other one tucked in his as the two of you wind your way back through the crowds. Both of you stop to pat the bronze pig at the crux of the Market for good luck.

He leads the way down the narrow stairs to Post Alley and the line outside the comedy club at its base winds around in a long chain. It’s funny, normally you’d want to know The Plan. Baekhyun calls you anal retentive, but you just consider yourself organized. You like knowing what’s coming. But tonight you consent to following him without knowing the destination. You bite back a smile - it’s exciting and terrifying all at once.

A group of people tries to come up the stairs as you’re going down and you are pressed against the rail, trying not to slip. It definitely isn’t meant to be wide enough for both directions of people at the same time. As if sensing your predicament Tao presses his broad back into the rowdy man behind you, ignoring his grumbles of annoyance, making space so you can descend the last few steps onto the courtyard.

Out front of the Market Theater you thank him and wonder what exactly his plan is. Is he taking you to an improv show? A concert? Drinks? With your hand still in his he gently moves to the left, under the archway and in front of the long gum wall. You raise a brow at him but he merely smiles and shrugs.

‘I didn’t peg you for someone who likes tourist attractions.’

His eyes dance with amusement. ‘Oh yeah? What kind of person did you imagine me to be?’

You purse your lips and try to figure out how to answer him. ‘I’m not sure, actually. Normally I can read people pretty easily, but I can’t pin you down.’

‘Me?’ He presses his hand that holds yours to his chest. ‘Baby, I’m an open book.’

The gum wall around you smells sickly sweet and you can almost taste it on your tongue. Everyone around you is taking polaroids in front of the wall or chewing their own gum in preparation to add to it.

You wonder what the two of you look like from an outsider’s perspective. Tao, tall and imposing with his thick motorcycle boots. You with your white Keds and sweet, checkered dress and headband. It might seem like you’re an odd couple, but the heartbeat in his chest against your hand is strong and underneath it all perhaps you’re not so different.

With a breathy laugh and a roll of your eyes you grip his hand and pull him further along the alley beside the gum walls, towards the water. Nearby one of the many buskers permitted to perform along Pike Place starts signing a loud and heartfelt, if slightly off-key, rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline,’ drawing the cheers of the onlookers.

Away from the crowd in Post Alley you emerge onto a side street a block or so from the water. Tilting your head back you watch as everyone sings along. Tao’s free arm suddenly comes around your waist and dramatically he starts swaying you back and forth, crooning along to the Neil Diamond song far better than the busker. A few other people on the street around you smile or laugh, making their way to the pier up ahead.

Instead of asking him what on earth he’s doing or feeling embarrassed about dancing in the middle of the sidewalk you just cling to him and try to keep up. His voice is rich and soothing, his hand holding you against him is sturdy and comforting. You can’t help but giggle and roll with it, holding onto his jacket and watching his jaw move as he sings.

All too soon the performance back at the Market behind you ends and the last lyrics are drowned out by applause. Tao takes a step back and the night is cold without his warm embrace. You long to step forward and close the distance once more. Instead you brush your hair back and compose yourself.

‘What kind of music do you like to sing?’ you ask as the two of you resume your progress towards the pier.

‘All kinds.’ He shrugs. ‘But mostly love songs.’

‘Really?’ The light before you changes and ahead the aquarium looms in the night. To your left is the Kingdome waits, past the long stretch of the boardwalk. Without waiting for Tao you head that direction, the briny ocean air filling your lungs.

He easily comes to your side. ‘Of course. Everything’s about love I think, when you get down to it.’

‘You weren’t singing love songs when I saw you perform.’

You answer without thinking, remembering the concert a few months ago that you and your sister went to. Baekhyun had invited you both to see Chanyeol’s band - Yeol and the Salty Wolves - and Tao was performing with the opening group.

‘You’ve seen me on stage?’ His proud grin is teasing and playful and damned if you don’t want to kiss him.

‘Yeah. It - my sister dragged me out of the house. She thought getting outside would do me some good.’ You focus on picking off a section of your pink nail polish that’s started to chip. ‘You guys were great. But you were definitely yelling about anarchy, not love.’

The imagine of him in his tank top, wide slits cut under the arms revealing a broad swath of his tanned skin, singing passionately, makes you suddenly very aware of him. Tonight he’s composed, a rebel in street clothes. But that night his face was slicked with sweat from his intensity, red in the cheeks and headbanging along with the crowd and the rest of the band. Even that night, so close after your recent break up, you wanted him. It was a dangerous idea then and it’s a dangerous idea now.

He hums and veers to the right, heading down one of the longer piers. ‘I could argue that anarchy still is love. Love of your beliefs and love of a person or a place or a thing so much that you’re willing to fight for it, to go to war for what you care about.’

To that you don’t argue. ‘That’s true. I guess anything could be love when you get down to it. There’s so many poems about sadness - missing love or rejected love. Anger. Bitterness.’

The wooden boards of the pier below you give a gentle thunk with each heavy step of Tao’s huge boots. Below you the water sloshes against the planks. Now at the end you lean forward, resting your elbows on the railing, before turning back to Tao.

‘I guess this is a day to be debating love,’ you smirk, thinking back to the conversation that got you into this. In the wind off the Bay you shiver.

Like a reflex Tao shrugs out of his jacket and holds it out to you. But you lean over and wave your hand at him. ‘No it’s okay, I’m fine. Please, you don’t have to -’

But he drops it over you anyways, the warm weight of his jacket settling on your shoulders and insulating you from the wind. In his black, long-sleeve shirt he doesn’t even seem cold. With a sigh you pull it more fully onto you and bend upright again, inches from him.

‘Debating love indeed. See I think love and intimacy is made far too complex by a lot of people.’ He slowly rubs his hands together, forearms resting on the railing as he leans over, looking at the waves. ‘I think it comes from knowing someone. Really knowing them. Hopes and fears and memories and all of that. and choosing to be with them. Simple and complicated as that.’

‘Simple as that?’ you gape at him, holding your wind-tousled hair out of the way with one hand so you can look at him. ‘There's no way to truly know someone in one night, though. There's too much nuance for love in such a short time.’ The beating of your heart in your palms when you look at him would argue otherwise and you inhale deeply, trying to keep your center.

‘Hence why I also said complicated. But now we’re debating what love itself means.’ His gaze darts down to your lips before he meets your eyes. ‘I know plenty about you.’

You open your mouth to argue but he carries on. ‘I know you’re stubborn, given the soda earlier and the coat just now. I know you’re practical and competent - I’ve seen you at your job. I know you’re a romantic at heart, you have to be to study poetry, and even if some asshole temporarily doused that fire you look for evidence that love is real everywhere.’

Feeling raw and exposed you try to find anything to say to brush off the way his statements cut to the heart of you. ‘That doesn’t mean you - uhm - that you know me.’

The word you almost said in your haste was love and the thought makes your palms sweat. Irrational. Impossible. Everyone always says your emotions are easy to read, that they’re written all over your face, and you wonder what he sees as he watches you. The moment you said it you could see the slow smile start on his lips. At the very least he knows you’re not arguing with him as much as arguing with yourself, against what you feel.

He leans in closer so that his forehead touches yours, low voice almost a murmur. ‘But I want to know you more. I want to do a lot of things. Does that count?’

‘Count?’ If you wanted to you could press up on your toes and kiss him. The thought is intoxicating and you close your eyes, heaving a breath into your lungs.

After a long moment of thinking and waiting and wondering you finally open them again. Tao looks just as conflicted as you are - his brows tug together and the casual flirtation is gone. He holds himself still before you and something far more serious crosses his face. Though he doesn’t answer with words the look in his eyes telegraphs his feelings for you.

With a sigh he pulls back, reaching to the railing with both hands to steady himself, and you sway in his absence. He looks up at the night sky, at the moon through the clouds, and smiles. The stars peek through here and there. It’s not a cold night, just a breeze across the water to relieve the heat from the long summer day. Distantly a line of poetry comes to you, about being thirsty, parched almost, and wanting to drink him in to quench it.

Rather than indulge the dangerous impulse to touch him again you take off back down the boardwalk. Back to the city and the lights and far away from the closeness of being with him in the dark. The pressure of his thick jacket will have to be enough, for now.

‘So, where do you want to go next?’ You’re impressed you manage to sound steady.

He sticks his hands in his pockets once more and ambles after you, a small smile gracing his lips. ‘I know a place.’

As you make your way along the waterfront he turns the conversation to safer territory. You fill each other in on your jobs - how they started and what you like and don’t like. Co-workers who are dating, friends you have in common at the mall. Notorious customers. Tao has dozens of stories and his laugh is easy, his eyes bright with flirtation now that you’re both on safer ground.

Through the night you meander around the city in a vague Northward direction. Past the Science Center, it’s great white sculptures lit up. Around the Space Needle and the fountain. Another city and the streets would be deserted this late. But here there’s groups of people, laughing and splashing each other at the base of the enormous bowl that forms the center of it. You pass the occasional jogger or couple holding hands, walking home.

The two of you stop to use the restroom and get a drink of water at a 24 hour grocery store. Tao also insists on buying some snacks, chocolate and a bag of chips that you keep in the large pockets of his jacket as you progress to the edges of Lake Union.

It’s easy, being with him. His energy is calm, reassuring. He’s got a wicked and witty sense of humor you wouldn’t have expected and you easily spend half an hour looking out at the boats, making up other, naughtier names for them.

It turns out he likes X-Files just as much as you and your sister do. As you stroll along the Fremont bridge you end up taking his hand once more. The snacks are gone and you can’t resist touching him again. It must be well after midnight, but he doesn’t mention going home. Strangely, you don’t want to either. For someone who’s life has become so habitual you’re surprized you’ve not even spared a thought for your nightly routine of reading in bed with a glass of wine and a candle burning on the windowsill.

There will be other nights for that, but for tonight you let the momentum of the evening carry you along with him. You both decide to skip a visit to the Troll, not wanting to tempt any disasters. The Keds on your feet hold up well and you give a thanks to your past self for not wearing heels or sandals.

Eventually his destination becomes clear. The gates to the park are closed for the night. ‘Gas Works? This is your plan - breaking and entering?’

He nods, biting his lip. ‘Yep. I know a way in. The nighttime view is unbeatable.’

You hold out your hands, gesturing to the enormous PARK HOURS: DAWN TIL DUSK sign.

‘Afraid of being caught?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Yes, actually. I don’t think getting arrested for trespassing would be a great thing for my resume.’

Tao considers before backing towards the edge of the fence with a smirk. ‘Come on. How about a little mischief here ‘upon the honey’d middle of the night’?’

‘You know Keats?’ It leaves you breathless, rooted to the ground. It’s not from your favorite poem, but he is your favorite poet. A good guess or has he been doing his research?

‘Of course. Don’t you?’ Tao teases, folding back a corner of the fence and easing himself through.

You scoff and charge after him. The smug bastard can’t just quote Keats and then run away from you. Once again you want to kiss the proud look off his face, to rattle him the way he seems so capable of rattling you, getting underneath your surface. With a last thought to your reputation you step through after him and a thrill runs down your spine.

The rusted red containers and machines that form the center of the park are tall ghosts in the night, rising from the grass and casting long shadows around you in the distant light from the city. He holds out his hand and you easily catch it, both of you winding your way carefully around the gentle hills to make your way to the view.

You find a suitable spot and sit down on the grass. ‘You’re right,’ you tell him reluctantly.

‘About what?’ Tao sits beside you, linking his hands over his knees. He sits near enough you can feel his thigh pressing against yours. Close, always so close, but not as close as you want him.

‘About this.’ You gesture to the Seattle skyline in front of you.

Sure you’ve been in the daytime, watching the boats sail on Lake Union and the groups of yoga practitioners and families with young kids fill the grassy slopes down to the water. But by night the lights of the city look like a painting. Skyscrapers touching the clouds as the first hints of sun are lightening the horizon.

‘I thought you’d enjoy it.’ He nudges you with his shoulder and smiles at you.

The gentle sounds of the water below is relaxing. Even as you lift your hand to cover a yawn you don’t truly feel tired, like the night and closeness to him could keep you awake forever, if you let them. But even so, dawn is coming and you think back to the reason that you’re both here.

‘So. About that bet?’ Your words are a sigh and somewhere between the late hours and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles you don’t second guess the question.

He side eyes you and can’t smother the grin on his face. ‘You mean the one about if we can fall in love in one night?’

‘Yes, that.’ It must be the lack of sleep causing the giddiness you feel, you tell yourself, as you lean back against the grass and cover your face with your hands.

His own hands find yours and you turn to see him on his side next to you. Gently he pulls them down, holding them to his chest, so he can look you in the eyes. ‘Hmm, I don’t know about love, but I feel a whole hell of a lot right now. We never came up with an objective definition of it, anyways.’

You snort. ‘Did you honestly just say ‘objective definition?’’

‘Yes, I think if we’re going to agree here, we need to be on the same page.’ With his intense focus on yours he brushes a kiss against the backs of your hands. ‘If we say love is a feeling, who’s to say that we aren’t in love? If we decide it’s an action then which one is it? A kiss or a commitment or - maybe it’s nothing more complicated than putting words to the way I feel when you look at me?’

The smile blooms across your face and right then you’re tempted to say it’s all of them. How much you want his mouth on yours and his hands all over you. How you’re not quite sure you know how to have a relationship with a man anymore, after your ex, but that you want to try with him. How wild and free you feel being next to him.

‘I don’t know about -’ you whisper. You let the truth fall out, not bothering to think about what it might mean. ‘Long term or after tonight. But I’d say, much that I hate to admit Baekhyun could be right, I’d say… uhm, he could be right.’

You avoid Tao’s eyes, focusing on his jaw or the fabric of his shirt or the way his hands hold yours. But still you see how he smiles, almost glowing in the light of the moon and the barest reflection of the sun coloring the skyline to your left.

He clears his throat, pressing another kiss to your hand. ‘Well, I'd look at it this way. Let's say we do get together. Maybe we last a month or maybe we last for the rest of our lives. Another fifty or sixty years. In either of those cases tonight would be just a fraction of the relationship. A small sliver. Important when looking at the broad view of a life together, but not crucial by itself.’

With a nod you look at him and the heat in his eyes makes you gasp. He moves over you, releasing your hands to brace himself on the ground behind your head. The sturdy press of his body reminds you this isn’t a movie or a dream, it’s something real that’s happening to you. The cool grass sinks into your dress at your back and brushes against your thighs.

'Or.' His hot breath cascades across your lips. 'If all we have is tonight.' Moving himself to the side he runs his nose along your jaw, mouth teasing the skin of your neck with barely there kisses. 'One night would be everything. For all the marbles, as they say.' He pulls back and looks at you with a lopsided grin.

You huff out a breath, blowing your bangs out of your eyes, absently running your hands across his shoulders, along his chest. 'I don't know. I like knowing there's always time for more. Like - what if I was tired tonight or hungry or cranky and I messed it up? The thought of just one night still makes me nervous.’

He kisses your forehead and the words come faster, as if hurried along by the morning. ‘If we're a forever thing, then it's okay, because there will be a thousand more chances to get it right. But just once? How can it be perfect if it's so brief?'

'Well, even if we do get together we'd still only have one first kiss.' He rests on one elbow and uses his free hand to cup your jaw, clearing his throat around the roughness of his voice. 'Do you want to wait or shall we attempt perfection tonight?'

The thought of waiting any longer makes you far sadder and you nod. ‘Screw it - kiss me. Please?’

Instead of answering he simply drops his head, closing the distance and sealing his mouth over yours. He groans at the contact, the sound vibrating in his chest where it rests against yours. You grip his neck, winding your fingers through the strands of his hair and hold on, to ground yourself, between him and the grass as he slowly, hungrily, kisses you.

Your eyes flutter for a moment as he sucks on your lower lip. Behind him the sky is bright, the rays of light spilling through the clouds and rendering him art himself. The arch of his brows, full of emotion. You squeeze your eyes closed and hold him tight, grazing his neck with your nails and sighing into his open mouth. Before you can kiss him again he pulls back, his cheeks flushed and his eyes full of delight.

‘That was pretty damn good.’ He huffs out a laugh, running his tongue along his lower lip like he’s trying to keep the taste of you close. ‘Are you sure you want to risk another one? It could be -’

‘Yes,’ you answer immediately. ‘Again.’

He grins and buries his face in your neck, his hot breath falling on your sensitive skin. ‘I think we’ve found the crucial difference between us.’ At your hum he carries on. ‘I can take one moment and hold onto it forever, perpetually living off the way it felt. You want to have it over and over again. And here I thought you were the poet.’

Rolling onto his back he pulls you on top of him with a squeal as you right yourself, bracing hands on his shoulders for balance. His hand rests against your cheek. ‘But if it helps. I - feel the same way.’

‘Oh.’ To keep your surprise and delight from exploding all over your face you bite your lip. ‘Alright then.’ You trace patterns in the fabric covering his chest.

It’s as simple and as complicated as that, just like he said, hours ago.

As the day rises full and bright with the heat of the sun you do indeed kiss again. Several more times. When you’re both red lipped and thirsty and covered in wrinkled clothes you head back to your apartment by UW. He gives you a piggy back ride when your feet start to hurt and helps you make breakfast with a sleepy smile and runs his fingers over the covers of the numerous books stacked on every surface of your apartment and all the while the feeling in your chest grows, not diminishes.

You hurry through a shower and getting dressed for work while he patiently waits on the couch. His eyes are closed when you emerge, putting your hair back in a ponytail. Leaning against the door frame you watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest. You stifle a yawn and think of how not twelve hours ago you didn’t know what his skin felt like beneath your palms or what he’d be like to kiss or how perfectly your bodies seem to line up.

Tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight, you’ll have to report back to Baekhyun and your sister. Though you still have no idea what you’ll say when he asks if the two of you fell in love in one night, you know that, at the very least, it was the start of something.

You leave Tao a note with instructions to sleep as long as he wants and a spare copy of your keys. He works his own shift tonight at Flanagan’s at two, his last one before he leaves on tour. Reassured that at least you’ll see him once more tonight at the party, before he’s gone for - well, you suppose you didn’t ask the specifics yet. You laugh at the thought and quietly shut the door and sprint down the steps to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s hardly after nine in the morning when Tao arrives. Far earlier than you were expecting, but you’ve learned that he likes to surprise you. When you see him standing in line you bite your lip, tilting your head and giving him a sleepy smile.

‘A bit early for you, isn’t it?’ You ask, friendly and professional. ‘You look like you had a long night.’

He laughs, shaking his head and resting his palms on the counter. ‘I did indeed. But it’s been over two hours since I last saw you.’

‘Oh yeah? Is that a long time, then?’ you tease him.

He whistles and leans in to whisper so only you can hear. ‘Far too long for someone in love.’

‘Love?’ The word thunders in your chest.

‘Maybe it’s too soon to know,’ he says, not backing up at all. ‘Maybe love is confirmed by time. But what I feel, whatever this is the start of, I’m greatly looking forward to.’

‘Are you sure you want to start this? You’re leaving, like, tomorrow.’ Suddenly in the light of day the reality of the situation makes your stomach flip.

He clutches his chest dramatically. ‘Don’t sound so sad, love. Please. You say that like I won’t come back.’ He reaches for your hand across the counter. ‘At least we'll have tonight. Tonight or forever, right?’

‘Exactly.’ Unable to resist you lift your hand to hold his cheek and kiss him. It was killing you not to and why not? He’s right. If it’s just one more night, you’re going to make it count.

You pull back and fill out his cup, insisting it’s your treat. Before he leaves you hold out the jar of poems. When he reads the line he laughs, holding it out to you.

“And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.”

― Pablo Neruda

#exowritersnet #tao x reader #zitao x reader #tao scenario #tao fanfic #exo x reader #exo au #exo fanfic #exo scenario #exo imagine #exodus mall

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mercuryonparklane · 3 years ago

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I seriously debated keeping this one in the drafts...

Okay, I felt compelled to analyze the timeline of all of Taylor’s rumored/alleged boyfriends (barring any that she supposedly dated pre-fame) and why I believe they could have been fake/pr setups...

Disclaimer: this is all speculative and is just my opinion. No one has to agree... we don’t all have to agree because really the only people who know the truth are Taylor and those she has shared it with. I do have a very skeptical view of the entertainment industry and pr, so that is a bias I will own up to. I especially think Taylor, for a very long time, was willing to play along with the pr side of things, but eventually reached a breaking point (as any normal human under that amount of pressure and scrutiny likely would). Whether that means she has faked all of her public relationships or some of them or just aspects of them... I can’t really, truly know that. So, just keep in mind that this is one little, insignificant person’s view of Taylor’s public relationships and that I do not personally know any of the people involved...

Don’t take this too seriously, peeps... I’ll even tag it as crack theory...

Joe J.: June/July-September/October 2008

If nothing else this feels like a typical pr setup of two young stars. He had Camp Rock, a Jonas Bros’ album and a tour and concert film to promote. Camp Rock came out on 6/20/2008. The Jonas Bros’ third album, A Little Bit Longer, was released on 8/12/2008. In August, Taylor joined the band on stage during the filming for a concert movie that would be released in February 2009.

Taylor had an album that was released just weeks after their alleged breakup. An album which contained a few songs that would be attributed to Joe J. due to the publicity surrounding their relationship. Hmm... what a great way to drum up interest in an album that includes quite a few heartbreak songs. Not saying I know that is the case, but they both had a lot to promote between June and November 2008.

Lucas T.: March-April/May 2009

He was in the Hannah Montana movie, which was released 4/10/2009. Taylor had a cameo in that movie and also wrote a song for the soundtrack. Lucas also played Taylor’s love interest in the mv for YBWM, which premiered 5/2/2009 on CMT. He was in one of her Myspace vlogs in April 2009. IMO, this was a setup to promote the Hannah Montana movie and the YBWM mv, but it didn’t really take off. Lucas later said they dated briefly, but he realized that he just saw her as a friend...

Taylor L.: August-December 2009

They played a couple in Valentine’s Day. In September, just days after the VMAs where KW interrupted Taylor on stage as Taylor L. stood a few feet away, Taylor went to an Owl City concert at the Bowery Ballroom where she met the man who would supposedly inspire “Enchanted”. Umm... “please don’t be in love with someone else”... even though I am currently dating Taylor L. and he is my forever crush, but like, I am totally crushing on you actually. I have no clue if any Swifties have ever picked up on that discrepancy.

Oh, and Taylor L. also “dated” Selena in early 2009 and I doubt Taylor would go there, even if they ended on good terms. I mean, it’s possible, but idk it seems unlikely to me.

John M.: December 2009-February 2010

I think Taylor admired him as a musician (this seems to have been mutual with John praising her talent multiple times) and she may have seen him as a mentor at first. I do not believe that anything happened between them beyond that. I think he was so thrown off by “Dear John” because of that. He was already tweeting in the spring of 2009, hinting at wanting to collaborate with Taylor. The album their duet was on came out in November 2009, right before they started “dating”. Although it wasn’t released as a single until June 2010.

Besides, Liz (friend or otherwise) has remained a fan of John and even went to his concert a few years back. So, either she didn’t care that he screwed one of her supposed good friends over or it didn’t go down how people were led to believe it did.

Jake G.: October 2010-December/January 2011

Unless this relationship started much earlier than everyone has been led to believe, it is very unlikely that ATW is about him. It certainly seems to have been written prior to the maple latte/scarf/sister’s house articles that were abundant after that pap walk. Either Taylor used him as a scapegoat for a song that wasn’t about him or he was a willing participant in a pr scheme to make sure people thought the song was about him.

He couldn’t have been setup with his costar, Anne H., because she was already in a long term, committed relationship. At the time Taylor was still good pr since she was still known as a kind of girl next door, all American type with genuine talent.

I’m not saying I know for a fact it was fake. I’m saying there are plenty of reasons why I think it was. Everyone has different perspectives... mine is that this was purely a pr setup.

Will A.: sometime in 2010 and/or mid or fall 2011-January 2012 or May (?) 2012

They were likely just friends, but people did think they were dating back then. The songs that people think he wrote about Taylor (”White Dress” and “Kiss Me Slowly”) were recorded in 2010. So, if she started dating him in September 2011, which people think because the dress she wore to his May 2012 birthday party was the one she is wearing on the “Begin Again” cover art, then those songs aren’t about her. About the party dress... Sarah B., who took the picture, was also friends with the Parchute guys, so maybe the photoshoot that the picture on that cover art came from happened earlier that day.

He was friends with Liz’s ex Jason and one of his best friends is still to this day very close friends with Liz, so that’s probably how he met Taylor. I think Taylor hung out with that crew a bit back then. AND those times Will and Taylor were seen hanging out in late fall/early winter 2011, Jason and/or the other friend were there. Yes, I am saying that Taylor was hanging out with Jason in November/December 2011, just a few months after he and Liz supposedly broke up. She was also still hanging out with Liz a lot at that time and after, though, so I think it was all good.

Conor K.: July 2012-September/October 2012

This was Taylor’s worst pr. If it was a real relationship... it is borderline predatory. If it is fake... still a big yikes... I don’t have much to say about this one. I think it was fake and an attempt at making him the muse for “Starlight” (how cute, this song she wrote about his grandparents sort of became about them), “Begin Again” (nevermind that the copyright record say the song was written in 2011), and EHC (nevermind that the song was written in May 2012). It would have been great pr, though, if he was a couple years older. Taylor should have fired Paula after this one... (because the public should have never known about it, real or fake).

Harry S.: November 2012-January 2013

Similar to all the others before (and after), there were “random” sightings, including a birthday trip to “the lakes” and blatant pr (go on and wear that fox sweater and paper airplane necklace, Taylor...). That NYE kiss, though...

Calvin: February 2015-May/June 2016

Taylor finally dropped her old publicist and brought on Tree. First step, was to erase the “boy crazy”/“man eater” label (and possibly the “professional beard” label) and become an independent woman who just wants to have fun with her gal pals. It got a bit gayer than expected (whether Kaylor was really a thing to some degree or not is irrelevant to the point). The gay rumors were actually catching on even faster and people were like “oh, that’s why she couldn’t keep a man” (sexist/homophobic as all of this is/was, ofc).

Enter Calvin... a playboy DJ who some might deem “tall and handsome as hell” (peeps, I am not really the best judge of a man’s attractiveness, so this is just how I think people see him). He seems sooo straight. I don’t know how else to say it. All of her other supposed boyfriends had gay rumors, whether or not those rumors were just people gossiping or had some basis in reality... I think he is the only one that doesn’t have them, that I know of anyway.

I know a lot of people think they were really together, but I think this was an attempt to have her in a more serious, long term relationship to counteract both the gay rumors (not necessarily as a cover for a woman because I don’t think all of the guys have been or need to have been covers for a secret relationship with a woman, it’s about appearing straight) and the “can’t keep a man” narrative that had followed her around. Even if they were in some sort of situationship (not what I think, just theorizing here), it wouldn’t have been a steady thing and they seemed to not like each other very much when all was said and done.

I still laugh that he said Taylor was the opposite of his type (and specified that he likes brunettes) in November 2014 and then he allegedly dated her for almost a year and a half, starting literally a few months after he made that comment. If that was a real relationship, he was either playing it cool when he said that or he misjudged her or Taylor was determined to date him because it was a challenge.

Either way, it seems like her team controlled the public narrative and maybe Calvin was okay with that at first, but over time it seemed like he wasn’t a big fan of that. Maybe that visit to the strip mall massage parlor was a bit of a rebellion...

At least they both got some royalties out of it...

Joe A.: September 2016-Present

Taylor’s team absolutely has control of the public narrative and he seems okay with that. He is a literal mirrorball. He is whatever Taylor supposedly says he is in her songs/whatever Swifties want him to be.

He likes to drop fun facts like how his family jumps into a freezing pond at Christmas or that he worked at a yogurt shop as a teenager. Whether they are real or not... he seems to be playing into the pr. Dropping little bits of information that will tie him to her songs... it is very “maple latte”/“paper airplane necklace”/dark jeans and Nikes... OR Taylor is just taking the few facts people know about him and using it to pin songs on him.

If he is a beard (which imo he likely is), I think he gets along with Taylor and doesn’t mind the minimal pr of it all.

I don’t think he is WB, either way...

Again this is just my view of things. This has no bearing on which women Taylor may have dated. I could do a separate post on what I think that timeline might look like.

One point I will reiterate is that I do not think that a beard would always be a cover for a secret relationship with a woman. I think it sometimes is, but it can be more of a general cover for someone who is gay. So many people think Taylor is the straightest person who has ever lived simply because of her public dating record. I mean, heteronormativity and homophobia also play a big part in that...

Edit: I completely skipped Tom lol. I just don’t buy that one either. Maybe he thought it would be good publicity or maybe he was led on to think it was more real than it was or maybe he was just having fun. Idk. All kinds of articles written about them at the time included some caveat about how they seemed fake or were maybe filming something...

#gaylor crack theory

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themovieblogonline · 2 months ago

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FROM Season 3 Episode 4 Review: Who’s Ready for a Ride?

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imaginethatneathuh · 4 years ago

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The Hermit: Technical Boy - American Gods

Technical Boy x child!reader, father-child

Technical Boy needs to get away from the Drugs gods for a bit and comes across a kid.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop.

TW/CW: Blood, skull-cracking, hospitals, swearing, near-death experience (and making light of it), drugs, sex, starvation, adoption, fostering.

Word count: 3.6+ K

•

Sometimes, Technical Boy just needed some air. Everybody does, but with him, it was more of a necessity so he wouldn’t blow up at someone.

Sex (the druggie) had been teasing him a lot more than usual and he hated it. Sure, Weed and Coke tried to get her to stop, but she started doing it behind their backs, and if Technical Boy told Weed about it, he’d be a snitch. He did not want to be known as a snitch bitch amongst the drug gods. That would be a nightmare.

He could have asked for Weed to help him calm down, but he didn’t feel like calming down that way. He wanted some peace, not to get high.

So, here he was, walking down some random street in some random city because he didn’t want to be anywhere near the druggies.

Yes, they’re his best, and only, friends, but he doesn’t always want to get high. Being around them, usually meant getting high off them. Sometimes, it’s nice. Sometimes, it’s not.

Technical Boy, in a dice hoodie with the hood up and black sweatpants with fire at the bottom, stared at his phone, scrolling through the news.

It was a lot of shitty stuff.

He wasn’t surprised by that. The others, “family” of the druggies, were at it again. Those of that sort, those with the brown hair and eyes, it’s like they were born to create chaos and discord in the world.

Technical Boy rolled his eyes, scoffing. He slipped his phone away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The god turnt to the sky, eyes closed.

As he walked, passing by an alley, Technical Boy heard quiet sniffling.

Instead of stopping, he kept walking.

There were plenty of homeless people in the world. Not everyone is lucky enough to be born into wealth or lucky enough to be able to keep their homes. Some people get shitty deals.

Nothing he could do about it. Nothing World would allow anyway.

Still, the god noticed that the sniffing was much higher pitched than normal, adult sniffling. He had an entire database of sounds at his fingertips, and as a part of him and his domain. It sounded like the sniffles of a child crying.

He stopped and hung his head.

‘This had better not be a kid,’ he thought to himself.

He didn’t like children, in theory. He’d never actually met one but from movies and shows, they seemed insane. It’s likely, upon meeting one, he wouldn’t know what to do.

Technical Boy wasn't good with regular adults. Dealing with a child would be impossible.

So, instead of assuming he was right and the sniffling was coming from a child, he decided he was wrong and approached the alley’s mouth as if an adult was in there.

“Hey, man, you okay?” He asked.

The god peered in, trying to make out anyone.

Something small shifted around. It was far too small to be an adult like he’d hoped. The small thing poke its head out from underneath a small, makeshift cave of junk. It quickly hid after seeing the god.

Technical Boy looked around and sighed, shutting his eyes.

‘It takes, in total, from 0-18-years-old, $284,570 to raise a kid, and a good chunk of a parent’s day to take care of a kid,’ he thought. ‘I have the money, but I don’t have the time.’ He opened his eyes and looked at the makeshift shelter. ‘Why the fuck is my first thought taking care of the kid? I could drop them off at a home or something. That’d be easier.’ He walked closer, trying not to scare them. ‘But the foster system here is fucked. The kid could get hurt, be abused, or die.’ As he approached, he noticed the kid watching him. ‘But there are tons of good families who foster and adopt, too. They’re not all bad. 1.5 million kids have been adopted and roughly 140,000 kids are every year. So, there’s a good chance the kid will become a part of a family.’

The kid pushed themself away from the opening and into their shelter.

“Hey,” he said. “Hi, are you okay?”

Technical Boy knelt down and watched for the kid.

“Leave me alone. I’m fine. Go away,” they said.

There was a silence. The god did not leave.

“Please, go away?”

‘The kid sounds weak. Like they haven’t eaten in days. When was the last time they showered or took a bath, too? I can smell ‘em even from over here.’ Despite the disgusting alley floor, Technical Boy seated himself.

“Nope. Can’t. Brain won’t let me.”

An old, rusted out can came from the shelter, flying straight at Technical Boy. He easily dodged it.

“Wow, you’re a dick,” he joked.

He heard a small huff.

Slipping his hands into his pant pockets, he found candy, probably chocolate, that he’d forgotten about.

‘This is so not healthy for a kid,’ he thought, playing with the wrapper in his pocket. ‘But, it’s better than nothing.’ He took the candy out, finding a Snickers. ‘Called it.’

“Hey, you like chocolate?” He asked them.

More shuffling from the shelter. “No. Especially not from a stranger.”

“Here.” He tossed the Snickers into the mouth of the shelter. “Have a Snickers. It has nuts.”

A thin hand reached out and snatched the candy quick as a whip.

The tech god raised an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t like chocolate.”

Another can came from the darkness and he dodged it again.

The kid unwrapped the bar and used the wrapper to fill a gap in their home. Hungry, they scarfed the candy down.

‘So small. The kid must be starving.’ Technical Boy continued to watch the mouth of the shelter, his concern for the kid growing.

“You always around here?” He asked.

A small piece of glass was thrown at him but it didn’t get very far, falling an inch or so away from him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Technical Boy stood up and brushed himself off. “I’ll see you later.”

He knew it would be impossible to convince the kid to come out of their hole and come with him on the first meeting, but he hoped to convince them to go into foster care sooner rather than later. If he tried to tell the authorities, the kid could get hurt or worse.

He left the alley and the kid watched him do so.

•

Technical Boy, in the druggies’ kitchen, placed an apple and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a bag.

Weed walked in, smiling. “Whatcha doin’?”

He looked over, a water bottle in his hand. “Nothing,” he said, turning back to the bag. “Just making a bag of food.” He cracked open the bottle and closed it again.

“Who’s it for,” they asked.

The tech god shrugged, putting a small stack of crackers and a container of cut cheese in the bag.

Weed wrapped their arms around his waist and rested their head on his back.

After closing the bag, he placed a hand on Weed’s, chuckling. “I’ve got to go, Weed.”

“First, tell me who the bag is for,” they mumbled.

He shrugged again. “I don’t know,” he said before he turnt around to face them. “But, as soon as I learn what their name is, I’ll tell you.” He booped their nose with a smile. “Promise.”

Weed giggled, sleepiness in their eyes.

Coke rushed in and grabbed an apple off the table, one from Weed’s garden. He stopped before he left and turnt around. “Are you two having cute times without me?” He asked, with a goofy smile.

“No,” Technical Boy said as Weed rested on his chest. “I was trying to leave, but Weed is sleepy.”

Coke bit the apple and walked over before picking Weed up. They wrapped their arms around him, nuzzling into him.

“Thank you, C,” the tech god said, earning a nod from Coke who practically ran out of the room with the apple in his mouth and Weed in his arms. “Don’t fall!” He shouted after them. Technical Boy picked up the bag and left for the alley.

•

The kid shoved a few cans into place on their mountain of junk. Technical Boy watched them work for a little, not wanting to interrupt until they were done. When they finished and started to head into their home, he approached.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “Brought you something.”

The kid, at the mouth, stared at him like a deer in headlights before rushing into their cave.

Technical Boy sighed and walked to it. “Ya know, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, kid.” He dropped off the bag of food at the mouth of the cave before sitting down farther away.

They snatched it up as soon as they thought he was far enough away.

Technical Boy sat, crossed-legged, and watched for any signs of anger..

“You trying to poison me?” They asked.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Cap’s been opened.” The water bottle rolled to his feet.

He rolled it back. “Nope. I opened it for you. Those fucker’s are annoying and the ridges hurt.”

The bottle slipped into the darkness.

The kid, inside, sipped on it. “Tastes gross,” they said, pulling a face.

“It’s bottled water. It never tastes right.”

The two sat in relative silence as cars drove past and the kid ate. The occasional pedestrian peeked into the alley, giving Technical Boy odd looks, but he didn’t particularly care. He was used to it.

As the kid finished, they asked, “Why’d you come back?”

“Felt like it.”

“Why’d you bring me food?”

“Felt like it.”

“Are you a rapist?”

“No. You?”

They laughed a little. “No. Are you a peadophile?”

“No. That’s gross.”

“Are you going to tell the police where I am?”

Technical Boy sighed. “If I wanted to do that, I would have done it yesterday.”

“You gonna kidnap me and sell my organs on the blackmarket?”

“Sounds like too much work,” he said, stretching. “I’d rather hire someone to do that for me instead.”

Crunching came from the dark hole. It wasn’t cracker crunching. More like, a horse mowing down on a carrot or apple.

“This tastes good.”

“Yeah, a friend of mine grows their own food. Doesn’t like the food from stores. I’m pretty sure they want to start raising livestock, but, I don’t know.”

“Mhmm,” they said before tossing the core over his head into a nearby dumpster. “Do you think you could bring more?”

Technical Boy nodded. “Definitely. If my other friends don’t eat them all first. But, harvest was good, so I doubt they’ll all be gone.” Technical Boy pulled out his phone and texted Weed. “I’ll text them to hide some of the apples from the others just in case though.”

Carefully, the kid peered out, staring at his phone.

“There. Done,” he said, putting his phone away. “They’ll hide some for ya.”

A can came at him but he ducked.

“You told them?” They growled.

Technical Boy put his hands up in surrender.. “Woah, hold your horses there, kid. I haven’t said shite to anyone. I just asked them to put some of the apples away, that’s all.”

Inside the hole, they looked him up and down. “Can I have my can back?”

“No, it’s mine now.” The god pulled the can behind him protectively.

The kid giggled.

A text popped up on his phone. Technical Boy looked down at it and rolled his eyes.

“What?” The kid asked.

“Nothing, just my boss being a dick.”

The container Technical Boy had filled with cheese rolled out on it’s side.

He opened it to find a few crackers and some cheese. “I made the bag for you, kid. Not for me.”

“I know. I just don’t want you to be hungry.”

“Thanks.” He smiled softly and ate the cheese and crackers even if he didn’t really want to.

“My name’s not kid, ya know,” they said. “It’s Y/N.”

“Technical Boy.”

“That’s a weird fucking name.”

The god shrugged. “Should a kid your age be swearing like that?”

They shrew a can at him. Instead of dodging, he caught it and put it behind him with the other can. “Mine,” he said.

“Nuh-uh!” They said. “Gimme my can back!”

Technical Boy shook his head. “Nope. You threw it away meaning anyone can claim it. So, I did.”

Y/N huffed. “Dick.”

•

Weeks passed and every single day, without fail, Technical Boy came to Y/N’s little home with food and conversation. Once or twice, he brought clothes and blankets. He very well couldn’t let the kid freeze. What kind of person would he be if he did? Even though both Media and World didn’t like his disappearing acts and he got repeatedly scolded and punished for it, he didn’t care. For some reason, he found he had grown rather fond of the rude kid. He liked to believe they had begun to like him, too. Even if it was just a little, itty-bitty bit. The god no longer wanted to let them go into the foster system, rather, he wished to take care of them himself. But he knew Y/N wouldn’t agree, no matter how much they liked him. They were much too independent for that.

Since he’d started coming, little Y/N had grown in both width and height. No longer skin and bones, they moved around more and even left the confines of their home for more than building.

“I’m stronger now, so I can kick you better if you try anything,” they had claimed.

Technical Boy chose to see this as them trusting him more.

•

Technical Boy dropped off a bag of food at the mouth of Y/N’s home and sat farther away.

Y/N came out, sitting in front of the mouth in the light. They opened up the bag and smiled.

“Apples,” they mumbled.

Technical Boy smiled as they rifled through the bag. “Yeah, that’s the last of ‘em, though. Won’t be more until the next harvest.”

“Thanks.” Y/N looked up and gave him a pained smile before looking back down.

He shrugged and played with one of his confiscated cans. “It’s whatever, kiddo.”

Y/N tossed him a fruit snack baggie. He caught it but dropped his can.

“Ya gotta stop doing this, N/N,” he said, opening the baggie. “You need to eat more than I do.”

They flipped him off.

As he ate the gummies, he watched Y/N scarf down everything. At least that hadn’t changed.

“How are you feelin’? You think you’ll be okay here during the colder months? They are getting closer,” he said.

They looked up, some jelly on their mouth. Y/N wiped it away. “I’ll probably be fine. More fat means more insulation. Plus the blankets you gave me.” They picked at the sandwich. “Are you still going to come, even when it snows?”

“Of course, kiddo. Come rain or shine, hail or snow, I’ll be here until you don’t want me to be.”

Y/N stared at him for a while before crawling into their home. Inside, they rummaged through their things, pulling out bits of scrap and pushing away blankets. After a while, they found what they had been searching for and returned to the outside world.

Outside, they stood up and walked over to Technical Boy. They presented him a beaten up and squashed Snickers bar and refused to look at him while doing so.

Gently, the god took it from them. A Snickers bar, just like the one he’d given them when they first met. A strange, warm feeling spread throughout his chest and he smiled.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Instead of going back to the cave, they plopped down next to him and wrapped their arms around one of his. They nuzzled into his arm and held on tight.

It was a rather odd sight. A much larger, muscled man with an odd style choice and a clean visage being clung onto by a small, dirty child no older than 10, no younger than 5.

Looking down at the kid, Technical Boy knew he had to protect them, no matter what. This was his kid now. They had been for some time.

•

Another day, another bag for Y/N.

Technical Boy did as he always did, placed the bag at the mouth of the makeshift shelter and sat down opposite of it.

But, Y/N did not come out.

The god waited for a few minutes. When they still had not come out, he called for them. Still, there was no response. Technical Boy stood and walked over.

Placing a hand on the top of the mouth, he looked inside. “Y/N, hey, are you okay?”

Y/N lay limp in the makeshift nest.

“Y/N?” He nudged their legs with one of his hands.

Still, they didn’t respond.

Crawling a little into the small space as best he could, Technical Boy shook Y/N’s shoulders. “Y/N, wake up. Kid, please. This isn’t funny.”

Nothing.

At this point, the god had gone from fine to freaking.

Wrapping an arm around them, he pulled them out of their shelter.

A giant, bloody gash spread around their eye and eyebrow. He could feel blood on the opposing side like they’d been hit with something and cracked their head on concrete. They were cold, freezing really.

‘Please, be okay,’ he thought.

Their back pressed up against his chest, Technical Boy, through his tears, gently smack their cheek.

No response.

He calmed his breathing, shutting his eyes tight. ‘They can’t be gone. Not yet.’

Hoping beyond hope, Technical Boy checked their pulse, pressing his fingers to their neck over one of the carotid arteries.

After a few minutes of silence, he could feel a faint heartbeat.

They were alive.

The god let out the breath he’d been holding, sighing in relief.

His kid was going to be okay.

He stood up. Picking them up bridal-style, he held them close.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered to them. “You’re gonna be okay.”

•

Pacing in the waiting room, Technical Boy picked at his lip.

‘I should have asked them to come with me,’ he thought. ‘I should have made them come with me. This could have been avoided if I had just taken them. They’d be fine right now if I hadn’t wanted to respect their autonomy. The streets are no place for a kid.’

He sat down in one of the chairs, elbows on his knees. His hands interlaced in prayer and he bowed his head. Though he trusted his technology to save them, he couldn’t help but pray they would be okay. Almost immediately, his heel started bouncing against the tile.

“Mr Brown?” Someone asked.

Technical Boy looked up and then stood. “Are they okay?”

The person smiled, probably a doctor, and nodded. “Their skull had been cracked open and they lost a lot of blood, but they’ll be okay,” they said.

“When can I see them?” He crossed his arms, watching the doctor for their reaction.

“You can go to the room, but they won’t be awake for some time.”

“That’s fine. I just- I need to see them.”

They nodded, smiling sympathetically, and gestured for him to follow them.

•

The doctor showed him to Y/N’s room and gestured for him to go in.

Technical Boy, as soon as he laid his eyes on them, sighed in relief.

The bandages surrounded their head and one covered the gash around their eye and eyebrow.

He walked to their side, his eyes never leaving them. As he got to their side, he gently cupped their cheek and rubbed it. He knelt down.

“I’m sorry, N/N. I should have given you some way to contact me or something,’ he whispered to them.

•

The first thing the kid felt when they woke up was something in their arm. It wasn’t painful, just weird. The second, and more enjoyable, feeling was someone holding their hand and the warmth coming from it. Y/N groaned slightly and opened their eyes, only to find Technical Boy gripping their hand, asleep, with his head resting on the bed.

The view looked strikingly similar to their dad when they were younger.

“Tech?” They asked, struggling to get the nickname out.

When he didn’t respond, they nudged him. He groaned a little. Struggling, Y/N got up, feeling a little lightheaded, and, still gripping Technical Boy’s hand, they tugged on him.

The god groaned again and rubbed his eye with his free hand. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, looking up at them. “How ya feelin’?”

They tugged on him again and mumbled something.

“What?”

“Hug.”

Technical Boy chuckled and leant forward, hugging them tight.

Y/N hugged back, nuzzling into his neck.

“You fucking scared me, kid,” he said. He rubbed their back gently as he broke away from them.

Y/N immediately took his hand back, not wanting to be seperate from him. “Feel like I got hit by a brick and cracked my skull open on the sidewalk before crawling back home,” they rightfully complained.

Technical Boy rubbed their cheek, concerned. He dropped his hand and took their other one into his. “I know you probably prefer being on your own, but I really care about what happens to you and I don’t want you to be on your own,” he said as he looked them in the eye.

“Whatcha sayin’?”

“If you want, my place is plenty big for two people and it’s always open to you.”

Y/N was quiet. So quiet, in fact, Technical Boy thought they might have shut down like they always did when he said something they didn’t like and didn’t have something to throw at him.

“Will it be safe?” They asked.

He nodded.

“Okay, but I’m not calling you dad.”

Technical Boy chuckled lightly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, kiddo.”

#american gods #american gods fanfiction #tarot troop #technical boy #technical boy x reader

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