#still deciding on rumi's design

[rainofthetwilight]

man i havent drawn akita in..a while

plus a quick doodle of The Lesbians™: (harumi n kita)

[coochiekrab]

Does Rumi stay with her catboy boyfriend very long? Unlike her brother she doesn't give will only date one guy ever vibes but idk your plans/plots.

To be perfectly Scmhonest i never really had any interest in developing any of these characters beyond Evan and Rumis teen years….. which is why so much about Nevaeh is still so rough and why i don’t want to design an Older freak thang. Combination of too much effort / not enough interest to keep it going. Idk if Rumi gets married or has kids or stays with Rin and ideally i won’t have to decide </3

[wololo-01]

Toppat clan week 2024 (day 13, 14 And 15)

AAAAAAAAAAAAA YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW EXCITED I AM TO DRAW THOSE!!! I know I kinda late but now I that I can draw again I still wanna try to participate!!

Day 13: airship

Ignore the ugly windows XD

Day 14: another division

In my Thsc au (can I call those mess stuff I create my au?) the Toppat clan would have made a division for the Mental health of all the members after the caos that It ended up occurring in the last years of the former leadership of the last leader, dr. Rumi is one of the person working in this division along with some other too! (but I still thinking on them design)

but if I try to do one of the room of this division it would take a long time (due to my stupidity in making mistakes a lot in draws and only noticed when I finish or Ibis paint crashes while I was drawing) So the only thing I could think of to do was the poster of the door Room :')

Day 15: favorite Toppat

Youuu know? I really have a looot of other favorite Toppats but no one of them can Overcoming my great favoritism for him!! KSUSSKAK- RHM!!! OOOOH HE SO NEAT AND COOL!! I especially like he reborn version >:} (even so I don't draw much he like that lol)

Oooh He looks mad- or maybe Disappointed? Who knows but he definitely is not happy with someone hihihihi

The Toppat clan week was made by @androidcharles!!

[fangaminghell]

1, 27 and 43 for any OC(s) of your choice :)

1) What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Imani has gradually learned to sit still for important stuff, and she has sat down for long periods of time....designing clothes. Sitting down doing nothing??? Oof. Something has to entertain her before she dies of boredom.

Asra is the royalty of sitting still for long periods of time. One would think they're a statue if they were to see them.

27)  What causes them to feel dread? 

WELP. There's a lot depending on the character.

Leo has his fear of water( specifically drowning), and the thought of being alone underwater for an extended periods of time is not fun. The manaphy quest was not fun for him.

Asra not knowing who they were before... everything. Where they a good person before meeting Ava? Also a certain something that is stated in the game ( if you know you know) genuinely scares them.

For Cande, it's anything that happening to her siblings. Losing the only family he has left....she don't know what he would do. The same can be said for Suraya and Blair, being older siblings themselves.

43) If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? 

Arrow- " I like people I guess????" *Shrugs*

Blair- "No"

Flynn- *thinks about women/Rumi* * blushes and is too flustered to speak*

( Rumi belongs to @lemonade-juley :3)

Imani- " I'm asexual Demi romantic! I don't feel sexual attraction, and romantic attraction doesn't really happen for me unless I have a strong bond with another person :D"

( the only one who actually explains it )

Cande- " Bi for bi baby!"( I cannot remember if I made her bi or pan but this joke is fun so yeah. Referencing the fact he's bigender)

Philomena: :]

Leo: Men.

Suraya: Women.

( I was gonna have a bit of a NSFW joke here but I decided against it lol. Just imagine Suraya exposing her brother and Leo getting flustered about it).

TLDR: The majority don't explain it lmao. Only Imani gave an actual explanation. Suraya and Leo kinda too, but yeah.

[bates--boy]

          “And that was our top twenty throwback playlist! After the break, we have a real treat for you this afternoon, especially you long-time listeners of KUVL 92.8 The Sun School!”

          God, the guy they now have at the booth sounded like such an amateur, trying to make up for his lacking disc jockeying skills with zaniness. Sure, Peter knew that it was unfair for him to judge what could possibly be a student trying his best at the mic because no one was born exceptional at a skill, but still...

          Peter shakes his head with a sigh and turns his attention back to the flyer draft on his computer. Since graphic design was not Peter’s passion, he was going to leave the artistic rendering to Ashira. All he needed to do was get his big idea onto paper. So, the commercial break played on, Peter mindlessly listening along (though his ears did perk up at the mention of a familiar name of a night club, with Peter thinking, Huh, I haven’t hit that place up in a minute...) as he focused on the document. 

          Everything was there, from the arranged time everyone agreed to perform to ticket price and website address, and the pièces de résistance: location.

          “Welcome back, listeners!” the DJ greeted the soundwaves. “Before the break, I told you about some exciting news we wanted to share with you all. Long-time listeners might remember Peter Kirkland, Karlstad Uni alum and even KUVL’s long-time DJ, has joined up with The MizFists! No, not the Misfits. They’re going live and going big, and you would not believe where! Find out more and get your tickets at MizFists dot com. That’s M-I-Z-F-I-S-T-S dot com. Find them on YouTube or wherever you listen to awesome beats.”

          That was too short of an advertisement, but it will do; any listeners who missed it will get the opportunity to see it on the millions of flyers passed out at the university’s campus or the town square, shoved in available mailboxes, luring people in with the promise of a truly underground experience. Because, truly, who can resist a semi-secret indie show held illegally in an abandoned and possibly dangerous train station? counterculture romantics are orgasming and they don’t even know why yet.

          It would all work out brilliantly, if Peter would just submit the final information to Ashira, instead of sitting curled up in his chair and staring at the screen, trying to figure out what the hell was missing...

         His eyes drifted to the stack of paperbacks. Ashira’s and Naseem’s loans, threatening to teeter over off the small corner area they had been delegated to. Peter had only managed to get through three of them, and he was going to have to return them soon. (Naseem hadn’t sweat him about his books, but Ashira, patient as she tried to be, obviously wanted hers back, particularly her favorite Rumi collection. A spine caught his eye, and Peter lifted a handful of books to pick it out of the collection, a well-loved copy of A House of Pomegranates. A bookmark substitute, which was a ticket print test for the show, was planted a quarter of the way in the book. He remember seeing photos of Wilde’s grave circulating the world wide web, desecrated in the most wondrous way: lipstick kisses. 

          And that was when Peter decided, after setting down the book, to draw a box in the corner of the flyer and add at the top: “Kiss here and post a pic. Tag #mizfists for special shout-out!”

        “Oscar, lend me your strength,” Peter murmured. With that, he sent the document on its way, and picked up the Wilde book to continue on with the stories. 

[mandyloves2read]

⭑ ⭑ ⭑ Book Review ⭑ ⭑ ⭑

Ruined Things by Samantha Lovelock

Folkestone Sins book 4

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️+

Holy hell that ending!!! I don’t even know what to do with myself ! This right here is why I love Samantha’s writing so much because just when you think you have it figured out you really have no clue what is going to happen next ! Finally we get to the bottom of Sunday and Payne’s problems we get a lot of answers but so much more questions arise or still need answering there is still so much going on in the background that we don’t have answered yet with the Folkestone Heirs . This book kept me entertained from the first till last page it’s full of twists and turns that kept me turning page after page I literally read this in one sitting! This series is seriously amazing if you haven’t started it yet what are you waiting for? Do it ! You won’t be disappointed!

⠀

How do you say goodbye to the one who holds your heart?

Payne Emerson should never have been behind the wheel, or on that stretch of road. It’s all my fault. The nightmare I feared most has come true and the boy I love is paying for my mistakes.

⠀

No matter how loud my screams or how deafening the sound of my heartbreak, he can’t hear me.

⠀

I am alone in this fight.

But I am fierce in my love.

And I will find out who did this.

⠀

My name is Sunday Grace Easton, and it’s time to make them regret the day they decided to take him from me.

⠀

⠀

♥Ruined Things is the fourth book in the suspense-filled Folkestone Sins series. While it is possible to be read along with the third book as a duet, to have the best reader experience it’s recommended to begin the series with book one, Fragile Things, where the characters and their world are introduced. As it is part of an ongoing series, this book does end on a cliffhanger.

⠀

⠀

This is a friends to lovers, angsty, mature new adult high school romance with a twist. It contains situations and flashbacks that may trigger some readers, including drug use, mental health issues, foul language, and scenes of a sexual nature.

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

Secret Baby ch 18

“You got plans for tonight?” Rumi tilts her head at him while on patrol. She always makes sure their patrols  sync up at least once a week. He’s only ever teased her about it being her omega instincts acting up and forcing her to check up on him once, and only once.

“I've got the usual reports from the day to finish. Then plan on working out and going home.” he shrugs and does another quick sweep of the area, snagging a stick of yakitori for him and a roasted carrot stick for her at the same time as stopping a kid from walking into traffic. 

“You're coming out tonight with me then. It’s been forever and you can fake your reports for a single night.'' She signs an autograph for a little girl that comes running up to her much to her mother's distress.  The girl is young and excited, Miroku is one of the only Omega pro-heroes afterall and the only one in the top 5. Rumi spends a couple minutes showing off her biceps and letting the child dangle from them before signing the kids backpack and taking a selfie with her.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea Rumi.” His wings flutter a little again, giving away his nerves. He's gotten better at not allowing them to show every emotion he has but there’s still small signs. Mostly only noticeable to those who have known him for years.He’s not sure he’s ready to go out clubbing again. Sure he’s been going on dates but it's not the same as risking it getting back to the hero commision. Probably not worth another almost scandal or having to scramble to come up with a lie for why so much money was suddenly gone from his bank account.

“You haven't been out since Touya right? How long has it been now anyways.” she questions him quietly once her fans have left the others have left. She wraps an arm around his shoulders, sharing her scent and snagging a selfie of them. Her scent is soothing and has always been, she’s his closest friend and if he belonged to a pack it would be hers. 

“Um it's been a little over a year? Our kid would have been 9months old by now i think. If they had been born on time?” His wings start to droop but a fan spots him and starts belining for him so he forces them up and wide. He puts on his show of smiling and joking around with the fan while he signs a piece of scrap paper. The guys snags him and gives him a large hug before he can protest, startling him and crushing his wings to his back before he thanks him and runs off. “Okay, yeah maybe i need a drink and a night out to get over this. What time and what club, I’m willing to hit up any of them except our old haunt,”

“I’m not that cruel Hawks. The point is to get you a new man, not to go back to where you found Touya and see if he stuck around there.” she pats him on the back before taking off, having spotted a would be robber trying to make trouble. After patrol he goes home and showers quickly before changing into jeans and a normal muscle tank with his aviator jacket thrown on top. He’s high enough up in the rankings now that he’s recognizable no matter what he wears. And truthfully he’s never seen the point of getting dressed up in expensive clothes  to go out, Doesn't get the point in showing off a designer wardrobe he hardly has time to wear when he looks the same in those as he does in much comfier outfits.

Rumi sends him the address of a bar soon after he’s finished along with a picture of what she’s wearing as a dress code guide. She knows better, knows he’s a disaster of an alpha and just wears whatever is most comfortable. It's a good thing she seems to have picked a casual club if the image of her in a cropped t-shirt and shorts is anything to go by. She always goes for a dress with a large thigh slit if its a fancier place or a leather jacket if it's more punk. Hawks almost always wears the same thing unless Rumi comes over and digs through his closet to throw an outfit in his face. He snaps a selfie as he leaves his apartment. ‘Hope this is okay because i'm not going back to change.see you there in 10.’ 

When he meets her outside the club she rolls her eyes and douses him in a glitter body spray. “You're here to get dicked down, make an effort Hawks.” She scolds him with a laugh. They take yet another selfie with the bouncer on duty and skip the line. Rumi heads straight for the dance floor and Hawks goes for a couple drinks first. 

The club is an assault on his senses, he used to be better at ignoring it, the lights too bright and the noise too loud. There’s also the issue of people constantly brushing up against his wings, he has just enough to fly here but left the rest of them home. After a few drinks he joins Rumi out on the dance floor. It’s nice, despite the overstimulation Hawks experiences, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this. Just hanging out with Rumi and blowing off work for a single night of fun, he used to do this so often that he didn’t get overstimulated at all. Rumi breaks off after a few dances to go get herself a drink as well and Hawks finds a dance partner for the next song. 

They spend the rest of the night breaking off from each other to flirt and dance with people then joining back up again to gossip and share another drink.Eventually its time to wrap the night up and Hawks gives one more once over to the alpha that’s been trying to get in his pants all night.

“Rumi, I'm calling it, I got to work early tomorrow morning and have to get some rest.Thanks for the push to come out tonight, I think I needed it.” He laughs, a little drunk and very happy to be around his best friend in the entire world. She smells relieved and happy and he curls in close to her when he wraps her up in a hug.

After letting her know he’s leaving soon Hawks grabs one more drink from the bar and after downing it goes back for one more dance, the same alpha ends up joining him for it and when he offers to bring Hawks home for the night he agrees.  Putting all thoughts of potential scandals and work tomorrow out of his mind when the guy kisses him like he’s worth something and gives a careful stroke down his wing.

Morning comes way too early for Hawks and he scraps together his clothes. He’s never been more thankful that he keeps a spare suit at his agency, he’s already running late and last nights alpha keeps trying to tempt him back into bed despite him already saying he couldn’t, that he had work. Then as he is shimmying into his pants he hears a camera shutter go off and sees the guy with his phone pointed in his direction.

“Please tell me that I didn't just hear you take a photo without my permission.” he grits out between his teeth. For fucks sake, couldn’t he go one night without his privacy being invaded, just one without someone looking to take advantage of him?

“Maybe, come join me for more?” he stretches out in whats obviously supposed to be another attempt to seduce Hawks back into bed. “Cmon big shot, im worth blowing off work for a morning.” he grins confidently and waves the cell phone tauntingly.

“ I already blew off work for you last night and am running late because you decided to shut off my first two alarms.” He snarls. “And just so you know it's illegal to take pictures of people without their consent.” Hawks temper snaps. He uses a feather to snatch the phone and chucks it out the open window. 

He flys at his top speed out the window, still trying to zip up his jacket, before he lands on his agency’s balcony he rushes in right away and books it for the shower. Itachi silently brings him a  giant ice coffee and some ibuprofen when he sits down at his desk with a small wince.

“Rough night?” he asks with a small smirk as he sets the caffeine and painkillers down.

“The night was quite good but my morning definitely could have been improved.” He laughs lightly and takes a file from the most competent secretary he’s ever found. Opening it reveals a case being passed to him from the hero commision, its skethy a little.

“I opened that already, Hawks… please, decline that. It has shady sketchy information written all over it.” Itachi drums his fingers on the edge of Hawks desk, already knowing and dreading his response.

“You and I both  know I don't get the option to decline missions Tachi.” he smiles sadly and tucks the file into the pile he has to go through today. Last night had been a fun break from reality, but it was time to get back to work. This morning had proved he couldn’t afford to let his guard down too much anymore,it was lonely in the top rankings and he just kept getting pushed further. However he also knew he owed everything to the hero commision and had to show them respect by taking the jobs they gave him, he had to pay them back somehow anyways for their kindness in training him and in taking him in as a talentless kid.

@mostladylikeladythateverladied @ruelukas22 @xxsnowchildxx @drxgonstone @i-like-to-shruggy

[marchioness-caprina]

Know Your Tumblrist

> What Do you Prefer To be Called?

- I prefer to Be Called Caprina or Brie.

> How Old Are You?

- My age range is 16 - 18

> When is Your Birthday?

- Dec, 25.

> Your Pronouns?

- She, Her, Miss

> Do You Have a Pet?

- Well We Have tons of Domestic Pets, 4 Dogs, 3 Puppies, 4 Cats.

> What Is/are your Favorite Color?

- Sky Blue

- Red

- Violet

- White

- Gray

- Orange

- Blue

- Black

> What Is/are Your Favorite Food?

- Anything Spicy

- Chocolate but I Don't Like Chocolate Cakes for some reason. Especial Cupcakes.

- Sour Food

> What is Your Favorite Subject?

- English, The Only subject that I could easily go with the flow without having any headaches.

> What is Your Favorite Sport?

- Badminton, I'm not a Very Athletic person and Going outside is already a chore for me. But I do enjoy playing Badminton.

> What are Your Hobbies?

- Drawing

- Writing

- Journaling

- Reading Books

> Which Subject is Your Least Favorite?

- Math, The Main Reason why students want to go back time and destroy Calculus along with the evolution of Mathematics.

> What Is Your Favorite Animal?

- Dogs, Always have and always will be fond of Dogs No matter how They violently Bark and Growl at Me.

> Favorite Ice Cream?

- Bubblegum, Vanilla and Cookies and Cream.

> Favorite Super Hero?

- Iron Man, I Like his Sass and He is my Ideal Father Figure.

> Favorite Fruit?

- Grapes, Apple.

> Favorite Dessert?

- I'm not Picky with Desserts but I Have a special spot for Pudding.

> Favorite Holiday?

- Christmas, My B-day

> Favorite Season?

- Winter, It gives me ankyuer solid Reason to stay home and do nothing.

> Zodiac Sign?

- A Proud Capricorn.

> 3 Fears I Have :

- The Ocean

- Lizards

- The Death of My Favorite Anime Character.

> 5 Turn On's :

- Neck Kisses

- Submissiveness

- Timidity

- Soft Bois

- Possessiveness

> Gender?

- Female

> Sexual Orientation? :

- Straight

> How Tall am I?

- I'm not Proud of It but I'm 5'0 , I still have hope in my height....

> Do I Have a Crush?

- it's Tiring and Unnecessary. but If Fictional Characters Count then Yes.

> Eye Color?

- Black

> Hair Color?

- Black

> My Current Relationship Status :

- Single, My Whole Life I've been Single.

> Addiction?

- Collecting Stationaries

> Coffee or Tea?

- Tea is Life

> Fruit Tea or Milk Tea?

- Fruit Tea is also Life

BNHA Corner

> Favorite Male Character?

- Tamaki Amajiki

> Why I Like Him?

- I don't Know, Maybe because he Fits some of my preference in a Boy? Also because he has this unusual Pull over me that attracts me in a manner that is borderline obsessive. But Fortunately I haven't crossed that dark path just yet.

> Favorite Female Character?

- Rumi

> Why I Like Her?

- She Remind me of that One Neighbor everyone Likes.

> My Top 10 Character Preference?

- Tamaki Amajiki

- Keigo Takami

- Todoroki Shouto

- Bakugou Katsuki

- Shinso Hitoshi

- Izuku Midoriya

- Neito Monoma

- Tomura Shigaraki

- Dabi/ Touya Todoroki

- Taishiro Toyomitsu

> The First Character I First Fell In Love with?

- Bakugou Katsuki ( Boomie here is my First Choice then Poof Tamaki decided to be a Sweetheart and Fucking Made me do a back flip towards him)

> Would I want to Be a Hero or A Villain?

- I think a Hero would be a More stable Job than a Villain. Stability is My goal.

> Favorite Teacher In BNHA?

- Aizawa Shota ( Don't deny it you Love Dadzawa too )

> Favorite Pro Hero In BNHA?

- Hawks ( Kentucky Chicken Mc Birdman is my main boi when it comes to Pro Heroes )

> Favorite Villain?

- Daddy---- I mean Dabi ( Tho Handfuck ain't bad either)

> Why I Like Them?

- dO I EvEn NeeD a ReAsON WhY I Like Him? umm Cause I Like Burnt Food???

> What Quirk Would I Like?

- Actually it's not decided yet since I have a whole Journal about Quirks that I researched and Designed.

> Favorite Class B Character?

- Neito Monoma

> Why I Like them?

- He's Kind of a Sore Loser ( For a Copycat) but His Character really spikes up the dullness like he's funny; Being all serious with his mockery while everyone else just gives off a look that's says : ' Oh look it's captain Bullshit trying to be cool again but he's failing shit '

> Which Class 1 A Character would I like to Spar With?

- Honestly I'd Like to Spar with Hagakure; Truthfully speaking she's by far one of the most Harmless Characters. ( I ain't betting by life to fight Boom Boom Kid cause I have no Physical Talents whatsoever )

> Which Class 1 A Character I Never want to Spar with?

- It's either Boom Boom kid or Icy Hotty, But mostly Boom Boom Kid. He's an absolute brute at the field and he could fly with sheer anger alone. He's aggressive and I don't want to have his firework quirk blowing up my Face.

> Which Character I would Like to Befriend First?

- The Most Tame one of all ; Midoriya the Broccoli and being friends with him has a lot of benefits. I get to be part of the Protect Deku Squad and I can ask him to copy my notes since the kid is a literal copy machine. Heck he puts a copy machine to shame. You know I think that may be his quirk----

> If I Base it on my Personality would I be A Villain or a Hero?

- No Doubt I'd be a Corrupted Hero; I'm not a noble or a righteous person and Things that aren't my problem has nothing to do with me at all. I don't like it when people bark at me cause I know I tend to Bite Back I don't bark I bite.

> Would I Join an Agency Or Make My Own?

- I'd make my Own if I was given a Chance to.

> Which Characters Would I Like to Work with?

- Hawks ; He may not be the safest but he knows how to carry on one sided conversations and with precise movements and speed he could take out any villain on his own without me having to worry about hiding to the nearest pole.

> If I were To Build a Team of 7 Characters who would Be in my List Explain. ?

- Midoriya : His Quick wit and Adaptable Analysis Skills could come in Handy in Making On the spot Strategies since he always seems to look at things in a logical and rationally beneficial way.

- Bakugou : The Kid is a menace and he is made to be an aggressor so when it comes to face to face combat Having a spontaneous yet calculative Bakugou to sweep the floor clean and be the Main front liner wouldn't be a Bad Idea. He knows how a fight works and he is very resourceful with his moved and paired with his sharp mind he'd definitely be a force to be reckoned with.

- Todoroki - He is excellent at being an object of distraction and destruction. Having the enemies frozen in place is helpful in most situations and by using his fire quirk he could easily wipe out and distance the villains or enemies that's surrounding the area.

- Tamaki Amajiki : The perfect 2 in 1 combo. With his quirk he could serve as an attacker and a defender. Though picking the right food he consumes would be the key to success and his entire performance on the field will mostly reflect to the food he eats so it's wise to prepare a handful of food at a time .

- Hawks : He was built for this, Though he may not be the strongest it terms of strength but he makes up a lot when it comes to speed and agility; his fighting abilities is beyond average and it wouldn't take a genius to know that he has gained mastery over his quirk. Plus his feathers can serve as sensors to know more about the surroundings including the enemies that are present and probably their location. And he'd definitely be my main man during a chase or escape type of scenario.

- Aizawa : With Aizawa's erasure quirk and keen eyes it would be a powerful addition for the team. Plus he possesses incredible combat prowess and ingenuity with or without the use of his canceling quirk and his ability to restrain his opponents is another advantage.

- Taishiro Toyomitsu - My ultimate Defense Character. I don't think I have to explain any further with how his quirk works and the advantages of him being in the team.

> Do I Have an Oc?

- As for the Moment the OC that I have released in public is Rui. But yes I do have ongoing Oc's.

> How Many Oc's do I Have?

- The number is still undecided.

> A Character That Is The Most Similar to me Based on Personality?

- Well I asked a family of mine to answer this for me and she replied that My Personality Corresponds With Shoto's with a Mixture of Keigo. ( Even tho I don't act like it here )

> What Hair color would I Like?

- As Long as It has Sky Blue in it.

> What Eye color would I like?

- Lavender or Silver

> Which Skin tone would I Like?

- I don't know skin tone doesn't really matter for me but if I had to pick then I'd choose maybe tan or olive?

> My Top 10 Student Characters?

- Tamaki Amajiki

- Midoriya Izuku

- Katsuki Bakugou

- Todoroki Shouto

- Eijiro Kirishima

- Mina Ashido

- Tenya Iida

- Shinso Hitoshi

- Neito Monoma

- Fumikage Tokoyami

[extreme-technicality]

does talking to an anon help about ninjago help? cuz I'm down

DHDKCKGSC YES IT DOES THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR OFFERING YOUR SERVICES

Okay now that I know I won’t be clogging people’s dashes buckle the fuck in my dude and I should stress that I literally would not be talking about this as much as I will be if I didn’t genuinely enjoy the show. I’m gonna go season by season and just Rant

S1 has the serpentine as the bbeg and like, as far as villains go they’re p lit. They’re early enough that they haven’t been done to hell, things are fresh, the characters and dynamics are being fleshed out, and all in all s1 is a pretty solid season. There’s some fuckery that gets brought up re: how the FUCK aging works and what the actual timeline of Ninjago is and how Wu and Garmadon fit into that timeline, fuckery that LITERALLY NEVER GETS RESOLVED IN A SATISFYING WAY BC ITS REVEALED IN A LATER SEASON (s8, dw we’ll get there lmao) THAT THE ONLY REASON THE FIRST SPINJITSU MASTER, WU, AND GARMADON LIVED AS LONG AS THEY DID IS CUZ THEYRE BASICALLY DEMIGODS AND ITS IMPLIED THAT LLOYD WILL ALSO LIVE FOR A LONG ASS TIME WHICH MEANS ONE DAY HES GONNA OUTLIVE ALL HIS FRIENDS AND EVERYONE HE EVER LOVED WHICH IS A FUN THING TO THINK ABOUT AT NIGHT But anyway I digress, s1 also coincidentally introduces Lloyd (he wasn’t in the pilot episodes that set up the rest of the series) and the existence of Evil Dad Garmadon.

S2 is where Garmadon starts acting a lot more Evil and a lot less Dad. He’s the main antagonist for that season, and I actually read somewhere that the show was originally slated to end after s2 which high key explains the fuckery of literally every single season after this lmaooooo. Much like s1, I really can’t find much to complain about, the first two seasons are pretty decent as far as I can remember

Season. Fucking. Three. Where the fuck do I start??? I hate season three for entirely personal reasons revolving around the STUPID GODDAMN ROMANCE WRITING. okay lemme back up and explain a thing first so, Jay is dating Nya and they’re fine, they’re going steady, aND THEN????? THE BEGINNING OF THE SEASON INTRODUCES BULLSHIT LOVE TRIANGLE FUCKERY FOR ZERO GODDAMN REASON, BITCH I HATE LOVE TRIANGLES AND I HATE THEM EVEN MORE WHEN THEYRE DONE FOR NO GODDAMN REASON!!! AND THEN. AS IF THAT WERENT ENOUGH. THEY SHOEHORNED A ROBOT ROMANCE BETWEEN ZANE AND PIXAL AND I KNOW I RANTED ABOUT THIS A LITTLE BIT WHEN I WAS ACTUALLY WATCHING BUT I DIDNT GO INTO ENOUGH DETAIL!!!! THEY MADE THE OTHER NINJA OOC IN ORDER TO PROP UP THEIR SHIP!!!!!! AND AT ONE POINT ZANE GOES “its like we were…made for each other” AND I HAD TO FUCUCJDHVE I HAD TO SCREAM INTO A PILLOW BRO, IM SO TIRED!!!! NO THE FUCK YOU WERENT!!!!!! YOU WERE MADE FOR YOU AND PIXAL WAS MADE FOR PIXAL AND IF YALLS WANNA BANG BOLTS THATS FINE BUT DONT IMPLY THAT EITHER OF YOU WERE MADE INCOMPLETE!!!! THATS AN INSULT TO YOUR MAKERS AND YOURSELVES, MOVE ON, PLEASE AND THANK YOU. anyway that season also killed Zane (for the first time, but not the last) (spoiler alert lmao) and like, not to be an emotional little shit but I did cry a bit at his funeral.

S4 is honestly one of my favorites, even though the romance crimes continue (the love triangle bullshit is continuing and honestly I maintain that Cole, Nya, and Jay should all have gotten together and in my personal canon they DID, and also Kai has a forced romance) the VILLAIN makes up for it imo. He’s campy!! He’s funny!! He’s a clown!! He’s serious enough that if he says “I’m gonna kill you” HE MEANS IT and that’s so fucking refreshing!!!! S4 is honestly 8/10 just for the villain alone, don’t like that it retconned the SHIT out of the elemental masters and how many different elements there are TO master but eh, it’s ninjago, shit is stupid.

S5 was…interesting? OH WAIT I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT S3 INTRODUCED A GARMADON WHO WAS A LOT LESS EVIL AND A LOT MORE DAD, HONESTLY I THOUGHT IT TOOK A LOT OF THE FLAVOR OUT BUT THATS JUST ME LMAOOO. anyway s5 killed Garmadon, and I was a little sad cuz I like him okay??? I just think he’s NEAT, he’s got big dad energy, he was teaching Lloyd some shit that just got DROPPED and literally was never brought up again which is honestly a theme in Ninjago. Ninjago drinking game: take a shot every time they introduce a plot point or ability and drop it at or before the end of the season. WHICH THEY ALSO DID IN S5 WITH A DIFFERENT POWER ACTUALLY, so all the ninja are masters of Spinjitsu right, well s5 introduced the concept of Airjitsu which only Spinjitsu masters can learn and it lets them FLY and they used that for seasons 5 and 6 and then they nEVER BROUGHT IT UP AGAIN EVEN THOUGH IT WOULDVE COME IN HANDY FOR S E V E R A L DIFFERENT SITUATIONS ACROSS THE SEASONS, ONE OF THEM WOULD BE FALLING TO THEIR DOOM AND MY ASS WOULD BE YELLING “YOU CAN FLY, DUMBASS” - anyway, they do that again later lmao it’s fine. But what’s low key NOT fine is they made Nya the WATER NINJA!!! Like I’m not mad she has powers, except I kinda am, she was doing just fine as Samurai X and honestly the only reason she has super special ninja powers is for plot reasons. Also Cole got turned into a ghost, but by s7 he’s????? No longer a ghost????????? And that’s NEVER addressed or reasoned away, so like. Cool lmao

S6 didn’t happen. Like, canonically, s6 ends with wish fuckery that undoes the entire season and none of the characters remember anything that happened except Jay and Nya because S6 is the season where they get back together so they remember all those events for???? Feelings reasons?????? Unclear, moving on. The actual bbeg for S6 was a djinn with a vaguely Spanish accent, and to this DAY I don’t know why they made him have a SPANISH accent. Djinn are Arabic, not Spanish!! They’re not central or South American, either!!!! Your villain design makes no sense, do better

S7 had MORE time fuckery, and retconned what happened to Kai and Nya’s parents and hmmmhmhmhmhmhm that makes me Upsetti Spaghetti :3 not just the retconning, but the fact that they LITERALLY brought them back oNLY TO NEVER MENTION THEM AGAIN!!!!!! LITERALLY!!!!!!!! Okay so at the VERY very beginning, like pilot episodes beginning, Kai talks about their dad like he died/left fairly recently, BUT s7 contradicts that and claims that both of their parents were essentially abducted when Kai and Nya were little kids, which makes me question what in the fresh fuck two little kids were doing for all those years alone. SETTING THAT ASIDE FOR A HOT SECOND, their parents were also apparently good friends of Wu’s and old war buddies (from the Serpentine wars, which is YET ANOTHER bit of the timeline that doesn’t quite add up but honestly I could make a whole other post about that shit). But if they were such good fucking friends, why didn’t Wu check in every now and again??? What the fuck was Wu doing that was so fucking important that he couldn’t have been assed to visit his friends ONCE in like TEN MOTHERFUCKING YEARS and realize “oh shit, they’re not here and there are two tiny children running around unsupervised…My Kids Now : )” LIKE????? WU YOU LOW KEY SHOULDA LOOKED OUT FOR YOUR FRIENDS’ KIDS BETTER, THEY COULDA DIED BRO!!! Uhhhh the time fuckery also results in Wu getting yeeted ahead in time a bit and the ninja gotta find him

Season. Eight. I have…mixed feelings about this one. The beginning absolutely SLAUGHTERED me, and not in a “this is so fucking funny” way. No, the beginning made me feel like I was being flayed alive with just about every episode because Ninjago was back on its forced romance bullshit and this time it was Lloyd’s turn on the chopping block. That hurt my soul cuz like, look at that mans color scheme, he’s CLEARLY alloaro, why are you forcing romance on my aro man, why would you hurt me like that, BUT ALSO BECAUSE HE AND THE GIRL HE WAS BEING SET UP WITH HAD A LITTLE HEART TO HEART REALLY EARLY ON AND IT WAS THE MOST QUEER CODED SHIT!!!! IT DEADASS READ AS A CONVERSATION BETWEEN AN OUT AND PROUD QUEER AND A CLOSETED QUEER AND THEY MADE!!! IT!!!!! STRAIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!! The only thing that kept me watching at first was wanting to find Wu, and then I started enjoying myself once Cole found a plot-relevant baby and had fatherhood thrust upon him. Everything went from “ehhhhh” to “holy shit this FUCKS” once it was revealed that Rumi (Lloyd’s love interest) wAS PLAYING HIM THE WHOLE TIME AND WAS EVIL AND HAD AN EVIL GIRLFRIEND!!!!!! LITERALLY IMPROVED EVERYTHING ABOUT THE SEASON FOR ME, I COULD EVEN FORGIVE THE WHOLE “let’s resurrect Garmadon, but as evil as possible” BULLSHIT!!!!!!

S9 is a continuation of s8, Garmadon is back and 1000% Evil, 10% Dad, but none of the Dad energies is directed at Lloyd - it’s all directed at Rumi, and honestly I could write a whole ass post on just RUMI cuz that’s honestly my DAUGHTER and I LOVE HER and I’m MAD SHE DIES AT THE END OF THIS SEASON!!!! SHE DESERVED THERAPY AND TO LIVE WITH HER GF AND MAYBE SOME CRIME. AS A TREAT. RUMI DESERVED BETTER AND LOW KEY IM GONNA WRITE A FIC ABOUT IT, BUT ANYWAY WHERE WAS I

Ah right, so s9 has the four major Ninja stuck in the original dimension with no way home, while Lloyd has no powers (cuz he almost died last season) and has to somehow lead a resistance against Garmadon (who has taken control of Ninjago City and is working on the rest of Ninjago). Actually, s9 is pretty cool. Like, the end of s8 and into s9 are low key my favorite episodes, and I kinda wanna rewatch them now -

S10 is a FUN one. Garmadon got got last season, but he didn’t DIE, so he’s in cold storage and now there’s Another Threat and he’s the only one who knows wtf they’re up against so they let him out and he works with them. The funny part is, he is still Very Much Evil and doesn’t quite Get emotions like he did when he was, uh, human lmao, sO HE WOKE UP EVERY DAY DURING THAT SEASON AND DECIDED TO CAUSE PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE. IT WAS THE FUNNIEST FUCKING SHIT. 1000000/10 MY FAVORITE GARMADON, he ended that season by literally fucking off into Ninjago and they never decided to track him down 😭😭😭😭😭and I’m so SAD about it dude

S11 has another Serpentine as the bbeg, though in the setup to that they retconned how the fucking Serpentine tribes and history work??? I think???? Also Wu was a good 150% angrier and generally Done with the ninja’s shit, which was honestly refreshing tho I’m not quite sure I liked what the refreshed view was, but whatever lmao. S11 also had the ninja get yeeted to the dimension farthest from Ninjago, and honestly - okay, so they didn’t all go at the same TIME, Zane left about a week or two before the others did but there was time dilation fuckery afoot which I’m not too mad about cuz low key it makes sense. What I AM mad about is that they didn’t play the angst up to its full POTENTIAL!!!!!! Zane was EVIL in the other dimension!!!! Okay so I’m Ninjago he was only gone for maybe a week or two, but DECADES had passed in the other one, and all that time Zane was alone and disconnected from everyone he knew and loved, with a staff that boosted his power while slowly corrupting him and Turning Him Evil to help him, and like???? The thought of Zane trying to find a way home, trying to get SOME sort of message back, while he has to use the staff more and more to help him survive the long, lonely decades, so that by the time his family DOES show up its too late??? BRO. B R O. THAT JUST HITS DIFFERENT, BUT NINJAGO DIDNT DO THAT!!! THEY MADE HIM EVIL DUE TO MEMORY WIPE!!!!!! MEMORY WIPE IS BABY SHIT COMPARED TO A LONG, SLOW CORRUPTION!!!!!!

S12 was alright. It went into Cole’s mom, touched on some of the adventures she had had, threatened another forced romance (this time on poor Cole, just leave my mans ALONE) but thankfully didn’t follow through this time, introduced cool new powers that honestly hasn’t been elaborated on since that’s the most recent season I think lmao

Anyway thanks for reading and letting me rant!!!! I have,,So Much More I could talk about, PLEASE ask me about Rumi, some of my headcanons re: Garmadon and Wu’s dynamic, the Serpentine, my top five times they butchered Kai’s character for Plot Reasons, or anything else I brought up here that you want me to elaborate on!!!

[dummbdumbb]

dabihawks university au, pt.1

….that no one asked for. i just did it for Myself, because i want to, and i love my sons, and i will write this as an actual fic one day. maybe. i hope so, at least.

anyway. no-qurks, university au:

they became roommates by accident called “earthquake”.  

”earthquake” happens every time aizawa agrees to have a drink with mic. terrible decision, really. it happened only three times, but it was kinda legendary.

so when aizawa was like REALLY drunk, mic just messed up with students housing, so this is how they end up with law students and science students living in the same block (and room apparently)

so this is how this catastrophe begins

dabi is 25, he’s a second year and studies physics

“IcE MeLtS”

this is literally all that he knows about science and somehow he survived his first year

no one knows the fuck how but here he is

mr compress was his roommate before hawks and dabi doesn’t know what exactly he studied. like, at all.

he worked in stain’s tattoo salon as an artist for about 7 years, until the old man decided it’s time for him to get his degree

so he send him to kurogiri’s bar in tokyo to work for shigaraki and prepare for exams

it was awful at first, but it’s getting better. shigaraki even allowed dabi live upstairs, when he wasn’t able to pay rent (it was before dabi even entered university)

(he was working for free after. 3 months or something)

(and hated shigaraki for that, but… well, fair)

they worked together for almost 3 years and they still refuse to admit that they’re friends. but they Are friends.

toga and spinner are huge fans of stain’s art!! they begged dabi to introduce them to the old man, and one day he…maybe…will…who knows…?

he himself is a huge fan of tattoos too, he’s got a lot of them. and all of them did stain.

sometimes he helps toga with her homework, but most of the times he just lets her dress him the way she likes (toga says it’s because she want’s to be a fashion designer, and it’s true, but this - this is just for fun, and they both know that).

hawks is 21, he studies law and is getting his master’s degree.

his previous roommate was fatgum, who he knew since school. after his graduation, he lived alone.

he’s from a large family. he has his parents, then aunts and uncles and who knows how much cousins, and he’s tired of all of them.

his parents never allowed him come home for holidays. he isn’t even offended after all the years, he just doesn’t know how to talk to his parents. he rarely met them.

he’s still close with his first teacher, tensei iida. hawks and fatgum sometimes meet and visit him at school, just like good old times.

he named himself ‘hawks’ when his uncle gave him an old motorcycle (honda cb400t, also known as ‘hawk’) for his birthday (hawks was in middle school). in high school he repaired the bike and drove it like crazy.

when he was like 18-19, he liked to take his motorcycle and disappear for a few days, somewhere no one can reach him. he still likes to do so from time to time.

he lived in the same block in dormitory as miruko. they’re close friends, even after rumi’s graduation.

he truly doesn’t know, what he wants from his life, he just knows that after his graduation he has to work for government, and he kinda doesn’t want to, so he keep studying instead.

he just doesn’t exist, until he has his cup of coffee. and he prefers it’s sweet. like sweet.

he can’t do arts. AT ALL.

he hates cats. cats hate him

please!!please please please let me know if you want to see more!!

second part here!!

[womenofcolor15]

BRITISH VOGUE BITS: 80K Bees That Produce Hundreds Of Jars Of Honey A Year – This Is Why Beyoncé Is QUEEN B!

Beyoncé graces the cover of not one, but three covers of British VOGUE’s December 2020 issue – shot by 21-year-old photographer Kennedi Carter. Inside, the global superstar shares some interesting details about her personal beehive and how she’s handling the COVID-19 pandemic. Get it all inside…

          View this post on Instagram

                  @Beyonce stars on three special covers for the December 2020 issue of #BritishVogue. She speaks to Editor-In-Chief @Edward_Enninful about everything from the recent racial and social justice movements, to her personal legacy and why she has finally decided to “give myself permission to focus on my joy”. Read the full interview and see the 20-page fashion extravaganza photographed by Kennedi Carter in the new issue, on newsstands and available for digital download Friday 6 November. #Beyonce wears all @MuglerOfficial. Photographed by @InternetBby and styled by @Edward_Enninful with hair by @JawaraW and colourists @Rachel_Bodt and @ShirleyGHauteHair, make-up by @FrancescaTolot, nails by @OhMyNailsNYC, set design by @StefanBeckman and lighting direction by @_Wordie. With thanks to Beyoncé’s personal stylist @ZerinaAkers, her tailor #TimWhite and publicist @YvetteNoelSchure; Parkwood Entertainment creative director @KwasiFordjour and creative producer @LaurenLaLaBaker; Satellite414 founder @CarlitoF8; @TravisKiewel and @RobFamous for @ThatOneProduction; and Vogue entertainment director-at-large @JillDemling.

A post shared by British Vogue (@britishvogue) on Oct 30, 2020 at 9:59am PDT

  Beyoncé Knowles-Carter didn’t have to slay this hard, yet we’re here.

Mrs. Carters graces not one, but THREE individual covers for British VOGUE magazine’s December 2020 issue. And she ATE, per usual.

In the cover above, Bey rocked an elastic-nylon mesh bodysuit, which is made up of 64 panels and took more than 100 hours to sew together, by Mugler creative director Casey Cadwallader. It’s a piece the designer had been working on since Thierry Mugler handed him the reins to the house in December 2017.

          View this post on Instagram

                  “Something cracked open inside of me right after giving birth to my first daughter. From that point on, I truly understood my power, and motherhood has been my biggest inspiration.” In the December 2020 issue of #BritishVogue, mother and megastar @Beyonce speaks to British Vogue Editor-in-Chief @Edward_Enninful. See the full story in the new issue, on newsstands and available for digital download Friday 6 November. #Beyonce wears an organza coat, catsuit, and custom-made hat all @Adidas x @WeAreIvyPark, with @JimmyChoo shoes and @LorraineSchwartz jewellery. Photographed by @InternetBby and styled by @Edward_Enninful with hair by @JawaraW and colourists @Rachel_Bodt and @ShirleyGHauteHair, make-up by @FrancescaTolot, nails by @OhMyNailsNYC, set design by @StefanBeckman and lighting direction by @_Wordie. With thanks to Beyoncé’s personal stylist @ZerinaAkers, @MarnixMarni, her tailor #TimWhite and publicist @YvetteNoelSchure; Parkwood Entertainment creative director @KwasiFordjour and creative producer @LaurenLaLaBaker; Satellite414 founder @CarlitoF8; @TravisKiewel and @RobFamous for @ThatOneProduction; and Vogue entertainment director-at-large @JillDemling.

A post shared by British Vogue (@britishvogue) on Oct 30, 2020 at 10:15am PDT

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                  “It would be difficult to experience life in a pandemic and the current social unrest and not be changed. I have learnt that my voice is clearer when I am still.” For the December 2020 issue of #BritishVogue, the powerhouse that is @Beyonce talks family, fashion and philanthropy with @Edward_Enninful and gives a rare and rounded glimpse into her world. See the full story in the new issue, on newsstands and available for digital download Friday 6 November. #Beyonce wears an @AlexanderMcQueen jacket, @AtsukoKudoLatex hotpants and @LouboutinWorld shoes. Photographed by @InternetBby and styled by @Edward_Enninful with hair by @JawaraW and colourists @Rachel_Bodt and @ShirleyGHauteHair, make-up by @FrancescaTolot, nails by @OhMyNailsNYC, set design by @StefanBeckman and lighting direction by @_Wordie. With thanks to Beyoncé’s personal stylist @ZerinaAkers, her tailor #TimWhite and publicist @YvetteNoelSchure; Parkwood Entertainment creative director @KwasiFordjour and creative producer @LaurenLaLaBaker; Satellite414 founder @CarlitoF8; @TravisKiewel and @RobFamous for @ThatOneProduction; and Vogue entertainment director-at-large @JillDemling.

A post shared by British Vogue (@britishvogue) on Oct 30, 2020 at 10:17am PDT

  For the shoot, Bey was adamant she wanted a young, black photographer to catch her angles for the shoot and that’s exactly what she received. 21-year-old photographer Kennedi Carter, a fine art photographer from North Carolina, was tapped for the shoot and she NAILED it.

          View this post on Instagram

                  a butterfly landed on me today, great things are coming

A post shared by Kennedi Carter (@internetbby) on Jun 22, 2019 at 5:56pm PDT

  In the cover story, the mom-of-three revealed she has two actual beehives in her backyard that produces hundreds of jars of honey a year. Not her fan base BEYHIVE – real beehives! She told British VOGUE editor-in-chief Edward Enniful she started the hives to help her daughters Blue Ivy & Rumi, who both suffer from bad allergies.

”I know it’s random, but I have two beehives. Real ones. I’ve had them at my house for a while now,” Bey explained. "I have around 80,000 bees and we make hundreds of jars of honey a year. I started the beehives because my daughters, Blue and Rumi, both have terrible allergies, and honey has countless healing properties.”

Yep, the REAL Queen B!

In the cover story, Bey also talked about how she’s adapting to the COVID-19 pandemic. "I’ve decided to give myself permission to focus on my joy," she sared.

Do you feel changed as a person by the events of 2020, and if so in what ways?

Absolutely changed. It would be difficult to experience life in a pandemic and the current social unrest and not be changed. I have learnt that my voice is clearer when I am still. I truly cherish this time with my family, and my new goal is to slow down and shed stressful things from my life. I came into the music industry at 15 years old and grew up with the world watching, and I have put out projects non-stop. I released Lemonade during the Formation World Tour, gave birth to twins, performed at Coachella, directed Homecoming, went on another world tour with Jay, then Black Is King, all back to back. It’s been heavy and hectic. I’ve spent a lot of time focusing on building my legacy and representing my culture the best way I know how. Now, I’ve decided to give myself permission to focus on my joy.

Have these months perhaps also changed you as a parent? How do you talk to Blue Ivy about current events, and what is your advice to parents in the same position, trying to impart the hard realities of our time to their children?

I have become a better listener. Blue is very smart, and she is aware that there is a shift, but it is my job as a parent to do my best to keep her world as positive and safe as can be for an eight-year-old. My best advice is to love them harder than ever. I let my children know that they are never too young to contribute to changing the world. I never underestimate their thoughts and feelings, and I check in with them to understand how this is affecting them. Blue saw some of the reactions to the “Brown Skin Girl” video, as well as some of the videos from the philanthropic work I’ve done this year. When I tell her I’m proud of her, she tells me that she’s proud of me and that I’m doing a good job. It’s teeeeeew much sweetness. She melts my heart. I believe the best way to teach them is to be the example.

You have been such a vocal advocate for change, offering your support during a tough time for so many families, especially those who have disproportionately suffered during the Covid-19 pandemic. It has been inspirational. How do you see your work as an artist and the way you use your voice in activism spaces working together?

I try to think of the most productive way I can help. I was able to work with my Church in Houston, Texas, my mother and Jack Dorsey [CEO of Twitter] to set up testing for a lot of Houstonians, especially those in economically challenged areas, who more than likely had no access to testing at the time. I worked with a local hospital in Houston, supported them with supplies and whatever they needed to best treat those infected. It was heartwarming to see the photos from the testing sites and to read the letters from the people who were high-risk, due to pre-existing health conditions, who were able to recover and return home safely from the hospital. I was fortunate to help even more people with funds raised from the “Savage” remix with Megan Thee Stallion. We donated the proceeds to support Covid-19 victims. I did the same thing with “Black Parade”. It’s been a year of service for me.

          View this post on Instagram

                  A surprising fact about @Beyonce? “I know it’s random, but I have two beehives. Real ones… I have around 80,000 bees and we make hundreds of jars of honey a year.” In the December 2020 issue of #BritishVogue, #Beyonce talks to @Edward_Enninful about what makes her proud, how she celebrates Christmas with her family and one very surprising – but then again, entirely fitting – hobby that keeps her busy. See the full 20-page fashion story in the new issue, on newsstands and available for digital download Friday 6 November. And click the link in bio to read the full interview now. #Beyonce wears @Adidas x @WeAreIvyPark jacket and shorts, @YSL by @AnthonyVaccarello shoes, @Wolford tights and @LorraineSchwartz necklaces. Photographed by @InternetBby and styled by @Edward_Enninful with hair by @JawaraW and colourists @Rachel_Bodt and @ShirleyGHauteHair, make-up by @FrancescaTolot, nails by @OhMyNailsNYC, set design by @StefanBeckman and lighting direction by @_Wordie. With thanks to Beyoncé’s personal stylist @ZerinaAkers, @MarnixMarni, her tailor #TimWhite and publicist @YvetteNoelSchure; Parkwood Entertainment creative director @KwasiFordjour and creative producer @LaurenLaLaBaker; Satellite414 founder @CarlitoF8; @TravisKiewel and @RobFamous for @ThatOneProduction; and Vogue entertainment director-at-large @JillDemling.

A post shared by British Vogue (@britishvogue) on Nov 1, 2020 at 8:59am PST

  And then we learn, Bey is just like us in many ways:

Beyoncé, we all believe you can do everything. Is there anything you cannot do?

I’m always losing my phone in my house or office, and I never know where my keys are. My phone is always dead. I get days and dates confused all the time, but guaranteed, I’ll remember every detail of a conversation, what you were wearing or how your hair was styled. It’s absolutely ridiculous.

This I must know – what is your favourite Texan delicacy?

Wow. That’s tough to pick one favourite. It’s good eating in Texas! I love Cajun seafood at Pappadeaux. The barbecue in Texas is mmmm. So is the Mexican food and the soul food. We ate soul food every Sunday after church. There was nothing better than when a little bit of candied yams got on your oxtail and macaroni.

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                  “Fashion was a place of escape for me. Every Friday, my kids and I would dress up and take each other’s pictures. It became an opportunity to handle this crazy year together.” Throughout the making of #BritishVogue’s December issue cover story, @Beyonce told @Edward_Enninful she had a very important goal: she wanted to have fun. See the full 20-page fashion story in the new issue on newsstands and available for digital download Friday 6 November. And click the link in bio to read the full interview now. #Beyonce wears a @ChristopherJohnRogers dress, @AgentProvocateur crystal thong and @LorraineSchwartz necklaces. Photographed by @InternetBby and styled by @Edward_Enninful with hair by @JawaraW and colourists @Rachel_Bodt and @ShirleyGHauteHair, make-up by @FrancescaTolot, nails by @OhMyNailsNYC, set design by @StefanBeckman and lighting direction by @_Wordie. With thanks to Beyoncé’s personal stylist @ZerinaAkers, her tailor #TimWhite and publicist @YvetteNoelSchure; Parkwood Entertainment creative director @KwasiFordjour and creative producer @LaurenLaLaBaker; Satellite414 founder @CarlitoF8; @TravisKiewel and @RobFamous for @ThatOneProduction; and Vogue entertainment director-at-large @JillDemling.

A post shared by British Vogue (@britishvogue) on Nov 1, 2020 at 9:15am PST

  We also learned what Christmas 2020 will look at the Carter household:

And lastly, what will Christmas look like this year for you and your family, and are you looking forward to it? What’s your favourite family tradition?

My twins are three and now they are old enough to understand Christmas. I love Christmas. We decorate cookies and ornaments. We also collect ornaments with everyone’s favourite things. We decorate while jamming to Christmas music. Blue leaves milk and cookies for Santa, and always leaves the most beautiful letters for him. We get up early and open presents and then we have a big lunch with all of our family. I love the joy and wonderment of children on Christmas. It makes me feel like a kid.

Aww! Tooc cute.

You can read the full interview here.

  Photo: Beyonce's IG

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/11/02/british-vogue-bits-80k-bees-that-produce-hundreds-of-jars-of-honey-a-year-%E2%80%93-this-is-why-b

[goodlucktai]

out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing

good omens pairing: aziraphale/crowley word count: 3584 title borrowed from a great wagon by rumi part 6 of the is there a better bet than love? series read on ao3

x

Nanael is a Principality. They stand on the front line of the last choir of angels, just before the lower archangels and well behind the Powers.

They know they’re nothing special. The rank is there, but without a station it doesn’t mean anything. One’s strength is determined by how well one does their job, more or less, and Principalities are just as limited as the lesser guardian angels are; restrained in their duties by how quickly their charges die, how regularly their nations rise and fall.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, is someone you hear stories about.

The angel of Eden who followed the fall of mankind, who wandered out past the gate and assumed a mortal form and spent six thousand years alongside God’s only imperfect creations.

Demoted, were the first uncertain whispers. Punished. One must learn from him, one must be better than that wayward Principality. When he finally returns to Heaven, you’ll see. He will have burned low from this failure. He’ll have to labor for eons to build himself back up.

Only Aziraphale never did return.

Six thousand years, the stories go, and by the time Nanael hears them they take on the tone of a fairy tale.

Six thousand years, Nanael’s brothers and sisters whisper to one another, awed and frightened. How many years do humans live? Do nations stand? How many years has any other guardian done what he has done? Not six thousand.

The Principality who averted the Apocalypse, who raised his sword against the Lightbringer, who opposed the Archangels, who stepped into hellfire and didn’t burn.

Nanael was unprepared for meeting him— for finding him in a soft body with time-worn clothes and messy curls, smiling with Love and with love at a demon, of all things, standing against a fellow angel as though he would fight all the forces of Heaven combined to keep his Fallen One safe.

They made a poor first impression, and they cringe to remember it, but it was an important lesson for them to learn:

Nanael and Aziraphale are of the same stock, but only in as much as a brook and a river are both flowing water.

“Watch it, feathers,” Crowley murmurs, drawing Nanael back by the hood of their sweater. “Might get singed if you stand that close.”

Nanael goes agreeably, circling behind the demon to stand next to Warlock at the front counter instead.

“This is awesome,” the changeling whispers.

“That’s a good word for it,” Nanael replies, thinking along the lines of Old Testament fury.

The demon that came along to cause trouble is— cowering doesn’t seem like a fair way to describe what he’s doing, because he’s being very brave about it, but Nanael isn’t inclined to be fair.

Not because of his being a hereditary enemy or some rot like that. But because he showed up on Duke Hastur’s orders, with a circlet still clutched in hand that would have tightened around Crowley’s head until it killed him. Hell, it seems, is getting creative.

The wards on the shop made the demon visible before he could get close enough to deliver it. He was visible the moment he walked in, whether he realized it or not.

Aziraphale seems to still be deciding what to do with him. The cold light in his eyes is unforgiving; it reminds Nanael of home.

“Angel, if you make a mess, you’ll always know it was there,” Crowley says, unbothered by the prickly heat his Principality is putting off like humidity before a big storm. “Just send him on his way, would you?”

The demon sneers. The effect is ruined by the nervous dart of his eyes back to Aziraphale, rather like the way a rabbit might watch an owl.

“It’s not over, Crawly,” he says. “Not even close. You may think you’ve won, but everything ends. This world will end. And when it does, you’ll be back in Hell where you belong, and none of your little angels will be there to save you.”

Warlock is bristling, eyes near glowing with anger. Nanael puts a hand on his arm that they hope is comforting, because it’s meant to be restraining more than anything else.

“Not bad,” Crowley assures the demon. “Decent level of ominous, that. Keep up the good work and you’ll see a promotion in no time.”

With a rapid brightening, the demon forgets the tense tableau long enough to ask eagerly, “You think so? Only I’ve been stuck in limbo so bloody long, I’ve never even seen past the first level.”

Nanael forgets, sometimes, that while Heaven has stories about the angel of Eden, Hell probably has stories about the serpent, too. For all that he was sent here to discorporate him, the demon is looking at Crowley with some sort of twisted admiration.

“Are you quite finished, my dear?” Aziraphale asks of Crowley tersely. He doesn’t wait for an answer, snapping his fingers and banishing the unwelcome demon to some far-flung corner of the universe, probably. “The nerve of him.”

Crowley calls, “Safe to come out now,” and Aziraphale seems to remember Nanael and Warlock with a start. He glances back at the two of them with a level of self-consciousness that Nanael thinks is unwarranted.

It goes away when Crowley touches him, though, a cool hand on Aziraphale’s arm that slides down to his hand, fingers weaving easily together like God designed them for no other purpose.

Nanael remembers a time when they wondered how an angel and a demon could ever be together in any sense of the word. Now, with their head full of music and poetry, of films and romantic fiction, they wonder how on earth Aziraphale and Crowley ever managed to be apart.

“They’ll have to do better than that,” Crowley says. It sounds like pride, and it makes Aziraphale smile almost despite himself. It makes Aziraphale lean in to kiss him, like an act of gravity.

They are very gentle with each other. Despite everything else that they are— the very different places they come from— they touch each other with the kindness that comes so naturally to humans. A learned letting down of one’s guard, of letting oneself be known.

Togetherness, the kindness implies. Likeness. We’re here, existing alongside each other. Not quite the same, but not so different, really. Reach out to me. We’re here together, you and I.

Nanael has learned a lot from them, but nothing so important as this kindness.

“I don’t think he was the one I met before,” they offer after a moment. “That demon. The corporation was different.”

Aziraphale promptly looks troubled by this, and Nanael almost regrets mentioning it. Except maybe it’s important, especially if multiple agents of Hell are going to keep showing up to cause trouble.

“Could just be the same creep in a different body,” Crowley points out. He seems pointedly unruffled, as though one of them needs to remain calm for their collective benefit.

“Do you always get different bodies when you come back?” Warlock asks, unbothered by anything that doesn’t bother Crowley.

Crowley scratches his cheek, just under the snake sigil. “I mean, usually, I guess. I always put in for the same one, though.”

“Likewise,” Aziraphale says, slightly distracted. “One gets used to one’s face after a few thousand years.”

Like his clothes, Nanael thinks fondly, Aziraphale’s form is well-worn and well-loved.

It’s a far cry from the crisp, bright uniform cut they’re used to. Even Nanael is not quite the angel they came here as; they have a favorite sweater, one that used to be vibrant orange and has dulled a bit over the last ten years of near constant use, and their dark hair has begun to grow out recently, long enough now that it needs tucked behind their ear.

Daniel was scandalized the last time she came to visit. She asked them if this was some sort of peevish rebellion, a faux-Fall. But it doesn’t feel like that, not really. It feels like— letting go of a breath they’ve been holding for so long they don’t remember why they were holding it in the first place. It feels like being allowed to breathe.

“And—“ Crowley starts, then looks like he regrets it. “Well. Wanted to make sure I was recognizable.”

Aziraphale looks delighted by him. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Shut up, angel, I swear to someone, this is why I wasn’t going to bloody say it— “

Warlock is laughing and Nanael is trying not to, and Aziraphale is smiling with such warmth that Nanael is beginning to understand how he was able to defy Heaven, why he was willing to risk so much. Nanael is beginning to understand what was at stake.

“I’d have recognized you,” Aziraphale says. He seems to have forgotten his worries for the moment, and for all his annoyed bluster, maybe that was partly Crowley’s plan. “No matter what you look like, or what you call yourself. I’d know you anywhere.”

#

Whether by chance or design— and Nanael is so hoping it’s the former, as the latter is too worrisome a concept to sit well in their stomach— they are alone again in the shop the next time an unfortunately-familiar demon comes calling.

“Hoo-ee,” she says with a toothy grin, knocking on the doorframe to announce herself even after the bell above the door has done that job. Maybe she just likes making noise. “How are sales, little angel? Booming?”

“Heavens, no,” Nanael says, affronted. They clutch the collection of short stories they’re reading to their chest protectively. “Could you imagine what Aziraphale would say if he found out I’d sold a book?”

The demon pauses mid-step. She doesn’t seem to know what to make of Nanael for a moment, and then visibly circumvents her confusion.

“Alright then. Bold business choice.” Her fingers tap the surface of a shelf that hasn’t moved since the early eighteen hundreds. “But if his shop’s been open this long, maybe he knows something I don’t.”

Nanael watches her from behind the counter as she picks her way through the shop.

“You don’t know him,” they say after a moment. “Either of them. You just let me think that you do.”

She flashes another grin, this one much nastier than the first. “Demon,” she says, as if just that says all she needs to.

“I won’t let you hurt them,” Nanael feels it fair to point out. They can feel some ancient sleeping thing inside them stirring at the very thought. Their hands tighten around the book they’re holding and they set it down, to avoid the horror of a cracked spine. “If that’s what you’ve come here to do, you ought to reconsider.”

They could best this demon in a fair fight, Nanael thinks, studying them. And if it was an unfair fight, which they are almost certain it would be, then they’ve had ten years of friendship with Warlock by now, and if that isn’t preparation enough for a dishonorable brawl then nothing would be.

The demon laughs shortly. “You don’t waste any time, I’ll give you that. Believe it or not, I’m not here to start a ruckus.”

Nanael doesn’t believe it. “Just last winter, a demon showed up on Duke Hastur’s orders to kill Crowley. And now here you are again. Checking their progress?”

“Bless me,” she says, the way some humans say “bugger me” when they’ve received unpleasant news. “No, alright? I had nothing to do with it. I told Dagon to leave him to me.”

She visibly backtracks— and physically takes a step back, too— at whatever Nanael’s expression looks like just then.

“I mean I wanted them to leave him alone. I’m certainly not going to do anything to him, and if I’m the only one on the case, he’s golden.”

Nanael can feel their decorative heart racing— not with fear, or excitement, but with the knowledge that something is going to happen. They’re standing behind the counter now, book forgotten, staring at the demon the way they stare at their jigsaw puzzles, trying to make uncertain edges meet.

“You said Crowley was cursed,” they say, still wounded by the memory all these years later. “You thought it was funny.”

She throws up her hands. “Just my luck, that the serpent has an entourage of pet angels. How does he attract your lot, anyway? Holy bird feed?”

Nanael can hear the roar of the Bentley outside. Their family, coming home.

Nanael lifts their hand, and their scepter manifests for the first time in several hundred years. It parts itself from the ether to meet their palm, the grip of it certain and familiar and warm to the touch. They remember, only vaguely, when they last held this weapon and safe-guarded a city, hundreds of human lives kept under their faithful watch. This is not the same— it’s only a dusty little bookshop in Soho, it’s only three people— but it feels every bit as important.

“Go away,” Nanael says.

By the time the door opens again moments later, the demon is gone and Nanael’s hands are empty and the wards have been reset with a thought. Aziraphale primly flips the Open sign to Closed, even though it’s still early yet, and Crowley is unloading bags of take-away food on the nearest table, and Warlock is running a practiced path through the front of the shop to where Nanael is standing behind the counter.

“That movie was wicked,” Warlock says, shining with enthusiasm. “I know you said you wanted to stay in and read or whatever, but next time just smuggle the book into the cinema, okay, you really missed out!”

“Oi, hellion, leave them alone,” Crowley calls over. He takes something wrapped in green ribbon out of one of the reusable supermarket bags, a familiar pastry box with a familiar cake inside. “You know how angels are with their books. Cinema’s overpriced garbage, anyway, some of my best work.”

Warlock rolls his eyes. Aziraphale touches his hair fondly as he goes past, and then touches Nanael’s shoulder in much the same way.

“Thank you for looking after the shop while we were gone, my dear,” he says to Nanael. “It’s such a relief to know you’re here.”

Nanael takes them all in, their noise and their bickering and their aggrieved affection for one another, the mismatched chairs dragged over to a table by the wide window where passersby sometimes get to take pictures of a sunning shop snake, the seat left open for Nanael in front of their favorite tea and their favorite croissant sandwich and their favorite Battenberg cake.

Nanael is nothing special. They know that. But with what little they have— with what little they are— they’ll protect this goodness they’ve managed to find.

#

Daniel is sitting on the far side of the table, poking at a half-melted milkshake with an inscrutable expression on her face. She never seems to know what to make of Nanael these days.

“You’re trying to…”

“Undo the curse,” Nanael says, hardly looking up from the book they’ve smuggled out of the shop. It’s so old that they worry what might happen if a human were to get their hands on it, which is how they justified the theft to their guilty Aziraphale-shaped conscience. It’s taking them a conscious, extended miracle to keep from doing the brittle pages any harm. “The first one.”

“The first one,” she parrots blankly.

Nanael pauses. “Not that Crowley has been cursed multiple times. Um, that I know of. I just meant the first curse in general. Warlock and I have been calling it the Chapter One Curse. The book had barely even started at that point, and already— “

“Nanael,” their sister says. “You cannot undo God’s decisions.”

They should have known she’d be no help. They go back to flipping pages somewhat petulantly, strengthening their miracle so the fragile book survives a less mindful handling.

“Nanael,” Daniel says, something dangerous creeping into her tone.

“It’s not wrong,” Nanael says, finally lifting their head. “It doesn’t feel wrong. It’s just— helping. I think God must have forgotten She put that curse on him, because he certainly doesn’t deserve it.”

Daniel stands up, so sharply her chair screeches across the linoleum. A few humans glance over from where their own conversations were interrupted, and a distant part of Nanael feels a bit embarrassed for causing a scene in their favorite chippy.

“You’ve spent too much time down here. You need to come home.”

“I won’t,” Nanael says frankly.

She moves around to them, kneels by their chair and takes their hands. “You’re too opinionated. You’ve been thinking too much without anyone to guide you. You’re asking too many questions. You’ll Fall.”

“I won’t,” Nanael says again, squeezing her hands, moved by her sincere, if misguided, fear for them. “I don’t doubt Her, Danny, I promise I don’t. You were there when the holy water didn’t kill Crowley. You’ve seen that he’s different. I don’t think She meant this for him. Or if She did, then maybe She meant for someone to fix it. Maybe She meant for me to be here all along.”

The thought fills them with warmth. It gives Daniel something to think about, too.

“Heaven will be lesser without you, emmer,” she says after what feels like a long time. “Please be careful. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Even if I were to Fall, you’d know where to find me,” Nanael tells her, smiling. “We could still get chips and milkshakes whenever you’d like.”

It coaxes a smile out of her, too. She rises enough to kiss them on the forehead, a blessing slipping over them like cool water, and lets it stand as a goodbye.

Hardly ten seconds later, someone throws their full weight into her vacated chair with a theatrical groan.

“Christ, I thought she’d never leave.”

Nanael is hardly surprised by now to find themself looking across the table at their unfortunate demon acquaintance. She wiggles her fingers at them in greeting.

“You couldn’t think running me off once would be enough to keep me gone, eh?”

“One could hope,” Nanael says grimly. They close their book and miracle it back to its shelf at the shop, and then starts gently bending the minds of the humans in the room around them, urging them to remember important business or forgotten appointments elsewhere. Even the line cook and the cashier step into the back of the restaurant for a well-deserved break.

If there’s trouble to be had, Nanael doesn’t want anyone else involved.

The demon looks mildly impressed by the empty dining room. She stretches a bit in her chair, easing off the tight grip on her mortal form just enough that her horns poke through the ether. It looks like someone kicking off their shoes after a long day.

It doesn’t look like someone about to start a fight.

“I have something for you.” She reaches into her jacket. “A peace offering, if you will. Or— an apology.”

That last word seems to leave a bitter taste in her mouth, but she doesn’t take it back. She slides a parcel across the table, something wrapped in worn but serviceable leather, and Nanael… well. They’ve developed a bit of a weakness when it comes to gifts. They don’t hesitate long enough to constitute any good sense before reaching out eagerly to unwrap it.

A book falls into their hands. The thick, velvety cover is empty of any author or title, and the pages are likewise blank. As Nanael thumbs through it, faint words dart across the empty spaces like a school of minnows, following the path of their eyes.

“I stole it,” the demon says plainly. “Don’t ask me who from. He’ll probably never notice it missing, but if he does, you won’t want to be involved.”

A forbidden book. Nanael clutches it a little tighter. There are always very useful things to learn in books you’re forbidden to read.

“The way I see it, God didn’t curse the serpent, She changed him. You won’t find a cure for something like that. Maybe, though, you can find a counter.”

Nanael’s mind is racing. “Curse him again?”

“With something good.” The demon scratches the side of her nose. “Never heard of any curse like that, but you look a bookish type. Maybe you’ll figure it out. And maybe I’ll pop in every now and again, to see how you’re getting on.”

It’s more of a plan than Nanael had five minutes ago, and after a decade of careful thought. They look at the demon gratefully. “Thank you.”

She relaxes a bit, with the gift having gone over well. “Funny old world it is nowadays, with angels saying thank you to demons.”

“Don’t be tiresome,” Nanael says, exhausted with that party line. “What do you get out of this, anyway? Why are you so interested in Crowley?”

“Not telling,” the demon says cheerfully, and snags what’s left of Daniel’s milkshake. She takes a noisy slurp through the straw, probably just to be irritating, and adds, “Good luck with your curse. I‘ll be seeing you, Principality.”

“Nanael,” they correct peevishly, before she can get more than two steps away.

“Gremory,” the demon replies, shooting them a smile that’s all teeth. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

Well, Nanael thinks once they’re alone again and the chippy is filling up around them with bemused customers, at least that’s something of an arrangement.

[dayseternal-blog]

A NaruHina Hanahaki AU

Summary: She knit a red scarf for him.  She never gave it to him.  Days turned into months, months turned into too late.

Naruto starts dating. Hinata decides to move on.

A sickness takes root in the heart.

Inspired by SasuSaku fanfic “Medicine” by @grimmjowkurosakidrake

Rating: Mature

Read Chapter 1 - Introduction: Smoke on her tongue.

Read Chapter 2 - He’s not a ghost.

Chapter 3: Weeds

Memories from that day replay over and over.  

Each time fills her with remorse.

She could have responded to Naruto in so many different ways.  “What are you doing?” “What’s wrong?” “Maybe another time.”  Or just, “We’re sorry for bothering you.”  

She didn’t have to get so upset.

Yet she can still justify herself.  She knows why she was so upset.  It just felt so unfair.

She was perfectly friendly to Rumi.  She could have been hostile.  She could have snubbed Rumi.

But why did Naruto do that?

She refuses to believe Susumu.  That would tear her apart.

Really, why did Naruto do that?

It’s not fair.

But he still didn’t deserve that from her.  Even though she doesn’t want to be just a friend, Naruto has always been a good friend to her.  He has always listened to her, always taken the time to encourage her, always been her inspiration.

Unable to take the guilt, she readies herself to talk to him.  She’ll apologize.  She’ll be a good friend.  She can be a great friend to him.

She knows she can get used to it.

She has to get used to it.

She needs to be okay with him.

It’s easy to find him.  He’s right at the bottom of his apartment, and based off of his gait, he doesn’t seem to be in a real rush.

She makes her way to him, eventually jumping down before him.  

He stops and stares at her.

It’s gut-wrenching to see him looking at her so warily.

She takes a few shallow breaths to gather herself together.  “...Naruto-kun,” she starts.  “Do you have a moment?”

He blinks.  Then nods slightly.

She steps a little closer, and she’s glad that he doesn’t angle away from her.

His expression is guarded, but his body language shows that he’s still open to hear what she has to say.

“...For the other night, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.  You’re a good friend to me, and I know you must have had a reason.  Please accept my apology.”  She bows, hoping that he sees how sincere she is.

“Hinata,” he calls, and she doesn’t miss how there’s a force behind it, as if he’s remorseful, too.

She raises her head, hoping for an explanation, any explanation at all that would erase Susumu’s words.

But he’s not looking at her.  He’s looking somewhere over her, his gaze conflicted, his expression troubled.

“Naruto-kun?”

His gaze slowly settles back down on her.  “...Do you...really..like that guy?”

“Susumu-kun?” she clarifies, noting that Naruto really, for some reason, doesn’t like her boyfriend.

“Yeah.  Susumu,” he responds shortly.

The question and the answer she knows she has to say hurt so much more in front of him.  She’s never felt more acutely than now that...she’s lying.  But this, too, is a step in moving on, right?  “I like him,” she says quietly.  “He’s nice to me.”

Naruto returns to staring at her, directly into her eyes.  He can see right through her, she knows.  “...He’s nice to you?”  His voice is almost as small as a whisper.

“Yes.”  She can tell that he doesn’t believe her.  Perhaps Naruto was just being protective.  “He is.  He’s almost too nice.”

He looks away, his eyes turn down to the ground.  “...You really like him?” he repeats, and suddenly, he’s staring at her again, piercingly steady.

She feels it.  The way he’s watching her, solely focused on her with azure eyes that can pick her apart, turn every piece of her over and leave no place untouched.  Search the very truth of her heart…

And then she realizes it.

He could always see her love for him.  He just...never responded to it.

She turns her gaze down, not knowing what to say.  He knew?  He knew and just… Why.  A question for everything.  Why won’t he let her try to move on?

“But you want to be with him,” he states, voice low.

She sees that she doesn’t even have to answer, and he already knows what she means in her silence.  If Naruto knows her love for him, if he has always known, if he knew he could never return her feelings, then why does he sound unhappy?

“...I need to try, Naruto-kun,” she manages to reply, her throat closing up.  Were introducing her to his girlfriends, was it all just a nice way for him to reject her?  

He stays silent for a long while, and she can see his feet shifting, feel his eyes trained on the top of her head.

And then he’s not there anymore.

She looks up.

He’s gone.

She lets tears fill her eyes then, and she quickly returns home.

*

Throughout the week, she reflects on their conversation, feeling for once, a bit of closure.

Naruto has said it before to her.  That he can see her emotions in her eyes.  How could that not include her love for him?

He never addressed her feelings, and that’s probably because he didn’t know how to reject her.  She thought maybe he forgot or didn’t notice.

Things make a lot more sense to her now.

Why he always treated her differently.  Why he was always nicer to her compared to everyone else.  Why he seemed to always take the time to talk to her, compliment her, encourage her.

He just didn’t want to hurt her.

He didn’t mean to give her hope.

And with that mentality, he probably was just overprotective concerning Susumu.

Naruto really is kind.

She’s glad she apologized.

She’s glad he never rejected her outright.  How much more would it hurt to hear those words of rejection?

And she’s definitely glad she never forced her feelings on him, never gave him that scarf.

She takes the gift out of her lowest drawer and smoothes her hand over the stitches.  Each one a prayer from her heart.  Each one a fervent wish that he might accept her feelings.

To put something so heavy with the weight of her love in his hands, around his neck, when he never wanted it...that would just be a burden.

She clenches her fingers into the soft, red yarns.

She cries, not caring as her tears fall wet on the threads.

She promises herself that this is the last time.

The very last time she’ll cry over him.

When she puts it away in her closet, wrapped and sealed carefully in tissue in a box of mothballs, she thinks maybe...maybe she can finally move on.

*

For their date, Susumu suggested a spar.

She thinks he must have a knack for good timing.  She’s felt a numbness throughout since she put her childhood love away, and the kick of adrenaline in a friendly match may be exactly what she needs to make her feel alive again.  Facing off against a mid- to long-range fighter would present a much needed change of pace and challenge to take her mind off of other things.

They face off at the fourth training ground, one of her favorites for its fairly small lake closely surrounded by trees, perfect for chakra control exercises.  It was his suggestion as a fire-style user, to keep possibilities of burn injuries and general destruction as low as possible.  She accepted, considering it fair enough since she doesn’t have any water affinity.

“What are the guidelines?” he asks, again letting her make the final calls.  She knows it’s to be chivalrous. It irks her just a little.

“We have to stay on the water or in the trees.  It’s an automatic loss if you fall in the water or on the ground.”

“No weapons?” he suggests.

“No weapons,” she agrees.

They separate to place themselves on opposite sides of the lake.  A single step on the water signals the start.

She doesn’t waste any time trying to close the distance between them.  She runs, letting her agility catch him off-guard.

As she expected, he immediately jumps up into an overhanging tree and releases a blast of fire her way, forcing her to stop and guard herself with her Shugohakke.

The onslaught of fire eventually dissipates, clearing, revealing him standing on the tree, seemingly waiting for her to make the next move, even though he has the tactical advantage.

“You’re going easy on me,” she accuses him, though she also knows that he’s just trying to get a feel for her.

“So are you,” he says, tapping below his temple.

She smiles at that.  “Byakugan.  Mizuhari.”  She pulses chakra out of her, upsetting the water.  She molds her chakra around the drops, forming them into projections as sharp as senbon.

He clears the initial onslaught with fire, the steam blinding him for a second.

She sends more his way, forcing him to jump back onto the water, and she doesn’t let up.  

In a show of daring, he stops his fleeing to face her, hands flying through signs.  A giant dragon of flames twists into being, eating through the water senbon, and she knows now that he’s taking her a little more seriously.

She’s forced to somersault back, costing her some dearly earned meters, and she dissipates the dragon in her Shugohakke once more.  Embers fall to the lake, sending up trails of smoke before her.  She doesn’t wait for it to clear, instead running ahead to gain back the distance.

But he back handsprings away, maintaining his advantage.  “That technique of yours is bothersome,” he calls to her.

Her defensive technique of her design, impenetrable to all jutsu.  “Did you expect me to be in the water by now?” she retorts.

He smiles as an answer, forming hand seals.  Demon-shaped heads of blue fire appear around him, the very energy of the jutsu ominous.  

She knows now that he’s on the offensive.  That only now they’re really getting started.

He sends the demons flying toward her.

She aerials around the heads of fire, yet they follow her closely, and she knows he’s purposely keeping her away from him.  She knows that if this continues, she doesn’t stand a chance.  She needs to get within taijutsu radius before she runs out of stamina.  She lets the fire come close before spinning into a Kaiten to quickly dissipate them.  With remnant fire still swirling around her, she re-concentrates her chakra to form around sharp water vortexes, and sends them spearing toward Susumu.

He skips back, quickly spitting out balls of fire to halt the path of the water senbon, and she takes advantage of the distraction.

As he’s right about to try to re-establish their distance, she manages to blast him with focused chakra from her palm.

The force throws him across the lake, but he extends his hand to the water, slowing himself until he can properly push off and back tuck to standing.

She smiles, proud that she got first hit, but she knows he’s not moving as quickly as he should be.  His response times are slower than expected for a jounin.  Plus, he has yet to use his earth techniques.  He’s still going easy on me.  She quickly chases after him as he skips backward, spewing fire at her.  But she’s done with fighting him from afar.

She warps chakra around her fists into her signature lions, using them to shield her through the barrage of fire, and finally manages to close the distance.  She swipes a fist toward him, the edges of her jutsu barely flowing over his skin, but it’s enough to siphon chakra from his arm.

A short groan escapes his throat.  He presses his undamaged hand to the water, and suddenly, she’s hurtling up into the air upon a column of mud.

Before she can lose her balance, she jumps off the column.

Yet just as quickly, mud and rocks solidly knock her midair, sending her chest-first toward the water.  

She manages to catch herself one-handed, flipping right side up into a crouch.  Pain blooms up her arm and side from the force of the blow that likely left her with bruises and scratches.  She refocuses on him, but almost catches his hand signs too late.

Another dragon rises, this one made of mud and forest debris.  He directs the monstrosity high above her, it’s mouth and eyes focused down at her.  Then it falls, the full weight of it bearing directly on top of her.  Its tail snakes around her.

She spins into the Kaiten, but this time, she realizes it’s too much for her.  She can feel her grip on the water breaking, the mass of the dragon too much for her to balance while performing one of her clan’s most difficult techniques.  Her feet dip into the water, and she knows it’s her loss.  She allows herself to sink below into the lake, and the dragon, whatever is left of it, falls apart.

Globs of mud pelt through the surface.  She swims back up, getting a good breath of air.

Susumu is already there offering her his hand.

Gratefully, she takes it and lets him pull her back to the surface.

Together they head to the shore and lean against a shady tree.

She notices that he’s just as out of breath as she is.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” he asks, looking her over.

“I’m fine.  What about you?”  She nods at his stomach, where her Hakke Kuushou hit him.

“It’ll be alright.”

After a minute of rest, she brings up what was bothering her for the whole match.  “You weren’t trying to seriously win until the very end.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You hardly touched me,” she mutters unhappily.  “...And you were letting me hit you.  I know you can move faster than that.”

His smile pulls down, a blush rises.

She furrows her brow at his strange expression.  “I don’t need that much chance.  Are you looking down on me?”

“Ah...no, no.”  He shakes his head and denies quietly, rather than vehemently.  It’s odd.

“What do you have to say for yourself then?” she asks in mock-seriousness and curiosity.  She doesn’t like how the match went, but in the end, she still lost, so she can’t really be mad at him for going easy on her at the start.

He raises a hand to his mouth, his fingers rubbing at the redness on one cheek.  His gaze averts as if thinking of a memory. “You were just really cool to watch.”

She blinks at him.

“I was a little distracted with watching you.”  He looks at her apologetically.  “It was unintentional.  Please forgive me.  In any future spars, I’ll try harder to focus.”

She can hear how sincere he is.  His compliment, for the first time, makes her blush in embarrassment.  Her eyes turn down.  “From watching me?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah.  Seeing you come out unharmed with flames falling around you, steam everywhere, was pretty..hot.”

Her jaw drops a little, and she gapes at him, embarrassment replaced by sudden discomposure.  “Susumu-kun!” she scolds.  She’s never been called “hot” in her life, and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.  The adjective feels almost intrusive, invasive, definitely not suitable for someone like her.  “Don’t say things like that!”  She hugs herself and frowns, tempering the heat at her neck.

He just grins widely at her.  A reaction she doesn’t like.

She covers her face, unable to handle seeing him looking at her, and sinks to the ground to kneeling.  “Don’t ever say that again,” she murmurs through her hands.

She can sense him drop to sitting beside her.  He sighs.  “I’m being serious, Hinata.  Fighting against the Byakugan is really something else...”  When she doesn’t respond, he continues, “If I hadn’t given you that Dosekiryuu at the end, I would’ve had to engage with you in hand-to-hand combat.  Even if I wasn’t running out of chakra, we both know how that would have turned out.”

She peeks at him from her hands with a question.  Is he implying that I would have won in taijutsu?

“I saw your late cousin’s Hakke Rokujuuyon Shou before.  There’s no evading it.”

She smiles slightly at the mention of Neji.  She can still vividly remember his graceful, deadly power.  She’s not sure if she’s caught up to him by now.  Neji will always be one of her role models.  “Well, you never know.  You still might have won.”

He shakes his head.

They sit there for longer, listening to the breeze blow through the leaves above them.  In each other’s quiet company, she can hear the birds chirping, the snap and whine of tree branches in the wind, the rustle of the undergrowth.

It’s so different from Naruto’s company...the easy conversation that could leap from random back-and-forth to Naruto’s endless, one-sided storytelling...and the easy laughter that surprised even herself...

She wants to move on.

Her heart still aches.  Terribly.

And she knows Susumu deserves better.  A good guy like him deserves someone better than her.

She turns her gaze toward him.

He’s staring at the grass, expression melancholy, and she can tell they both feel the change in the air between them.

“Susumu-kun?” she asks quietly.

He meets her gaze.  His shoulders and chest rise and fall in a long, silent breath.  “...What do you think, Hinata?  About us.”

She wants to move on.  But not like this.  Not by using Susumu when he’s serious about her and she’s not.  Not when she doesn’t feel any desire to touch him, to spend more time with him than her friends, to get to know him intimately.  She’s just not attracted to him in that way.

How can she tell him that?

She swallows her nerves.  She can’t be shy about this.  He deserves her best.  Even if it’s the end.  “I like you as a friend.”  Her voice is softer, heavier than she meant it.  Sadder than she ever thought she would sound.

His expression remains unchanged.  He nods slightly and averts his eyes.

She watches him, ready for any questions he might have.  She doesn’t want to explain anything she doesn’t have to.  She doesn’t want to rub her rejection in, not when he’s made his affection so clear to her.

He nods again, gaze on the ground.  He slowly rises to standing, and she gets up, too.  He faces her, and the despondency across his handsome features is hard to take in.

Hard to accept that she’s the cause of that.

Hard to realize that the end came so quickly.

“I enjoyed my time with you, Hinata.”

“I did, too.”  I’m sorry.  The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she holds it in.  “Susumu-kun…”  She looks up at him earnestly, hoping that he’ll be receptive to what she does want to say.  “Thank you for giving me a chance.”  I didn’t deserve you.  You deserve better.  I wish I fell for you.  I wish we could be happy together.  I hope you find someone perfect for you.  Thank you for being my first.

His mouth twitches into something close to a smile, but not quite, before settling down once more.  He takes her hands, rubbing his thumbs across her fingers, before letting her go.  “Take care, Hinata.”

“You, too, Susumu-kun,” she quietly replies, realizing that she’ll never feel his hands again.

He nods a bit, a shadow cast over his face.  “I’ll see you some other time.” He jumps into the trees and takes off back toward the village.

Her heart sits heavy in her chest.  Her eyes burn. Her extremities feel weak.  She doesn’t have the patience to sift through her feelings, so she lets them be.

Slowly she walks home.

*

She knows it was the right thing to do.

She knows, perhaps better than anyone, that being lead on, that thinking you have a chance, only to be disappointed, is more painful than anything.  It’s a good thing that she broke up with Susumu, and that he had the foresight to talk to her.

Because if not…

She probably would have just kept dating him.  Kept waiting for something to happen.  Kept convincing herself that she would fall in love with him eventually.

Maybe that’s what Naruto thought, too, at first.  That he might eventually feel something more for her, so he never rejected her.  And well, she never really gave him a chance to properly turn her down. She never confessed again.

She can’t blame him for that.

It’s not his fault that she held onto him for so long.

It’s amazing that he still treated her as a good friend.  Naruto really is so nice.

...Why can’t she stop thinking about him?  

Why does she still think about him so much?

*

She stares at herself in the mirror.

It’s been awhile since she felt this way.  Like she’s too dark.  Like her hair is too severe against her skin and eyes.

She’s always liked her hair color because she inherited it from her mother.

What if she grew out her bangs and gave herself a sharper image, like Hanabi’s?

She center-parts her bangs, then flips a section of hair over her head to give an impression of elongated bangs framing her face.  She frowns.  It still feels wrong for her to flaunt her forehead.  Even if sealing was banned three years ago.

What if she got a haircut?  Would that lighten her appearance?

She bends her hair up behind her head to get an idea, and turns her head this way and that.  It’s hard to tell.  She might just end up looking like her genin days, like a child.

But maybe it would make her look cuter, more cheerful, like Rumi.

She lets her hair fall straight and blinks at herself in disbelief.

What is she thinking?

Getting a haircut is like a classic sign of heartbreak.  Everyone would ask her if something happened.

No one knows yet that she and Susumu broke up.  Most everyone seems to know she’s trying to move on from Naruto.

She should talk to someone about everything that’s happened in the last week before she does something unexpected, like drastically change her hairstyle.

Before she can mortify herself any further, she forces herself to head to the hospital, to the one friend who understands her feelings better than anyone else.

*

Sakura told her she would be off-duty, but she looks anything but.

Deep in the archives with an assistant, scrolls and books sorted into piles for later perusal.  Sakura is obviously still in work-mode, green eyes scanning shelves and shelves for titles of interest.

“Is this a bad time?” Hinata calls out.

The medic-nin looks over.  “Ahhh, is it that late already?”  She bites her lip as she eyes their mess, seemingly reluctant to leave her current occupation.

“We can do this another time,” she suggests.

“No,” Sakura answers quickly, curtly.  “I didn’t forget about you, Hinata.  I’ve been looking forward to this all day.  I just lost track of the time.  This can wait.”  She dusts her hands off and turns to her assistant.  “Then, Tomoko-chan, I’ll be leaving now.  You should head home, too, since it’s getting late.  We can keep looking tomorrow.”

The assistant shakes her head.  “I want to do a little more research before I go home.  Good work today, Sakura-san.”

“You, too, Tomoko-chan.  I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Sakura steps carefully around a pile of scrolls and joins her.

“Is it really okay?” Hinata asks.  “It looks like you’re working on something difficult.”

She huffs a sigh.  “I just need to find medical records on something.  It’s not difficult, just annoying.  We’ll find it eventually.”

Hinata nods, acquiescing to Sakura’s decisive attitude.  The two head over to a small izakaya, one of Sakura’s go-to places that she frequents with Tsunade on late nights.  It’s not a usual place for Hinata to patron, but she likes that it’s quieter than other bars and keeps to a more traditional atmosphere.

After typical small talk and orders are taken, Sakura restarts the conversation with the expected question.  “How is Susumu-san doing?”

Hinata pauses, gathering her feelings, her thoughts together, before deciding to go straight to the point.  “...We...broke up about a week ago.”

“Oh.”  Sakura stares at her, then her gaze shifts about, obviously trying to think of an appropriate response.  “...How do you feel?” she asks carefully.

It’s been several days since their spar.  Several days since she’s been newly single.  Several days, enough days, for her to start second-guessing her decision.  And she hates herself for it.  “It’s funny…” she starts quietly.  “I was the one who ended things, but I still feel sad.”  In the aftermath of their breakup, she’s been left with new feelings to confront.  On top of trying to move on, it all just feels even more overwhelming--an outcome she hadn’t been expecting.

She looks up from her contemplation to see Sakura attentively watching her.  

She continues, “I wasn’t in love with him, and...he told me he didn’t want us to keep going if I wasn’t serious.”

“Mhm...you weren’t feeling anything for him?”

She shakes her head.  “But I wanted to...Susumu-kun was very nice.  He was a really good person.  I don’t know...if I made the right choice.  I’m starting to wonder if I should have tried to give it more time.”

Sakura leans her elbow on the table, cheek resting in her hand.  “...Can I ask..?” she starts somewhat hesitantly.  “Is it...because of Naruto?”

The familiar, painful twist in her stomach, the wilting sensation throughout whenever his name runs to the forefront of her consciousness.  “It’s so hard, Sakura-chan.  I’m trying so hard to get over him,” she whispers.

The air grows still between them, filled with her confession.

Sakura’s eyes cast low, gaze unseeing on the floorboards.  “I can’t imagine, Hinata.  If...if Sasuke-kun were…” She frowns and sighs.  “I don’t know what he’s doing or who he spends his time with, but I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I saw him with…”

Hinata thought she was done crying.  She promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore, but…  She swallows back the tears and forces the sting to retreat from her eyes.

“You’re being so strong, Hinata,” she murmurs.

“I..I don’t think so.  It’s...it’s lonely…”

Sakura frowns deeper.  She tsks, a sudden fire flashing across her eyes.  “He’s such an idiot.  He’s really, really such an idiot.”

Hinata shakes her head in disagreement.  “We both know that he isn’t.”

She just grimaces.  “Hinata, I really don’t think he even likes Rumi,” she says, voice only just above a whisper.

“Sakura-chan,” she warns.  The last thing she wants right now is pointless hope.

“I’m sorry...but I feel like I don’t have anyone to tell this to.  I worry about him, and I worry about his girlfriend.  Rumi-chan’s a nice girl, but she’s only 19, and she doesn’t know him like we do.”

“Over three months,” she murmurs.  “They’ve been dating for a long time.”

Sakura makes a sound similar to a snort.  “He doesn’t know what love means.”

“...I’m sure...Rumi-san is teaching him-”  She feels like the air is sucked out of her.

Sakura stares at her, the green of her eyes just as sharp and analytical as usual, despite the fact that she’s already nearly finished her cup of sake.  “I know you’re not much of a drinker, but Hinata, you’re drinking tonight.  It’s on me.”  Sakura calls over a waiter, ordering another bottle of umeshu.

She doesn’t argue with Sakura’s choice of comfort.  Maybe it is what she needs.  Maybe she just wants a moment for everything to tone down, her feelings to turn a muter shade, her memories and thoughts to blur and quiet for a second.

The sweet and sour plum alcohol races through her.  The very smell of it makes her cheeks flush.  One small cup, and she feels like a veil is settling over her mind.  The thrum of her heart picks up, sending a glowing energy to everything she sees.  “Thank you,” Hinata murmurs, and she feels like maybe she can smile now.

Sakura shakes her head, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear.  She takes another sip of her drink.  “About Susumu-san, I can’t tell you if you made the right decision or not.”  She looks at Hinata apologetically.  “If you really want to know what I think...maybe dating was just too soon.  Just...thinking about myself...I just don’t think I’d be able to date anyone seriously if they weren’t Sasuke-kun.  He motivated me, he changed me, he’s a part of who I am today, and I wouldn’t be able to let go of him easily even if I tried.”

Hinata takes a long sip of her drink, hoping the burn of the alcohol carries away her feelings--feelings that are painfully too close to Sakura’s words.  She puts her cup down, and takes a deep breath as the warmth spreads to her extremities.  “Maybe...maybe it was too soon… but I just don’t want to feel like this anymore…  It’s awful of me, I know it is, but when I was with Susumu-kun, I felt a little better...at least better than I do now.  I didn’t feel as lonely when I was with him.  He distracted me...from thinking about Naruto-kun.”  She doesn’t like how her insides still tighten at his name.  She doesn’t like how it makes her feel like she might never get over him.  “Susumu-kun made me feel like I have a chance with love.”

Sakura nods, expression sympathetic.  Her mouth straightens in a tight line.

Saying all of her thoughts aloud now, all of the thoughts that spiraled through her mind until they didn’t make sense, suddenly lead to a certain clarity.  “What if Susumu-kun was the one for me?”

The pinkette blinks and bites her lip.  “...But you said you weren’t attracted to him.”

She stares hard at her cup, picturing Susumu’s features.  “But I want to be, and if I want to be, then isn’t it possible that I would eventually?”

Sakura tilts her head, frowning, in thought.  She sighs.  “I guess I wouldn’t know...but, Hinata.”  She waits until they make eye contact to continue.  “Do you really want to love him?”

The question takes her aback, and it reminds her of Naruto’s probing questions a week ago.  She doesn’t know.  The alcohol certainly doesn’t help, but even if she wasn’t buzzed, she doesn’t think she would be able to differentiate among everything she wants.  Her reasoning, her fear, is all that she has.  “I might never meet anyone as nice as Susumu-kun ever again.”

Sakura shakes her head hard.  “That’s not true, Hinata, there are lots of good guys.”

Maybe there are.  But she’s not sociable like Ino, not clever like Sakura.  She doesn’t meet as many people as them, and she generally avoids situations that would force her to talk to strangers.  Just the effort to open herself up to Susumu was a lot for her.  “I just don’t think anyone would be as patient as him with me...he told me he would wait for me.”

Sakura gulps down a whole cup of umeshu.  She places it down and stares at Hinata.  “But you broke up with him already.”

It’s vain of her to think Susumu would still want her back.  But if she apologized, if she explained her feelings about him, that she appreciates so many things about him…

“What if Naruto and Rumi-chan break up.  What would you do?”

She feels an unpleasant pressure on her temples, a displeasing stress up the nerves of her legs, flaring into hot frustration.  “Why would you ask me that?” she asks, tone low to mask the snapping hurt in her. You know that Naruto-kun doesn’t like me that way.”  Unthinkingly, she pours herself another cup.  “I-I’m not his type, I’m not cute, or, or sexy, or especially bright.”  She takes a gulp of her umeshu, letting its fire burn away her dejection.  Forget.  She just wants to forget this, if just for tonight.

Sakura looks honestly regretful, and Hinata realizes that the alcohol is making both of them more loose with their thoughts.  “You know, Hinata,” she says almost quietly, the softer enunciation catching her curiosity.  “You know...I really thought he liked you.”

Hinata immediately shakes her head, remembering for a second everything he ever did or said that gave her hope.  She drinks a little more to erase those memories, if just for now.

“If that’s his type..cute, sexy, bright… I think that you are!  More than Rumi-chan, anyway.”

She looks up and gives Sakura a hard, disbelieving look.  “Please,” she mutters, shaking her head again.  “I...thought he seemed nicer to me, but...h-he just didn’t want to hurt me.”  Her heart shutters at the memory of their last meeting.  “I think he knew that I..that I loved him...but he didn’t know how to turn me down.  Or maybe he was trying to see if he could like me back.”

Sakura’s brow furrows.  “Oh…I guess...I don’t know, maybe I’ve never been that good at understanding him…”  She groans.  “But I just thought Naruto...I don’t know.  It’s been so long since we’ve properly hung out, and I’ve been so busy...I just-I really thought he…”

“I thought so, too..before..”  Hinata closes her eyes and finishes her second cup.  Burning, burning, burning away…  “...If you found out that Sasuke-san was seeing someone else, what would you do?”

Sakura gives a sudden, loud, humorless laugh.  “I wouldn’t be able to handle it,” she replies.  “I’d fight to have him back.  I know I’m aggressive, and...I wouldn’t be able to give up.”  Sakura places her hand to her forehead, then pushes her hair back.  “Oh damn...maybe I’d even fight Sasuke-kun.”  She takes a drink from her third cup.  “I don’t want to think about it…”

Hinata has always known that Sakura was very different from her.  From personalities to fighting styles, they’ve always been on opposite ends.  And now, with only alcoholic warmth keeping the tides of loneliness, jealousy, and admiration at bay, these differences fascinate her.

“He left me with a promise...I never even told Naruto this...but you know, Sasuke-kun and I...we can understand each other...just by looking at each other.  When we look at each other…”  Sakura locks eye contact with Hinata and gestures with her fingers between them.  “I feel like I understand him.  And he understands me.  He doesn’t have to say anything...he doesn’t have to touch me, and I just...I’ve just felt like, I know.  I know what he wants to say.  Or what he’s thinking.”  She takes another drink, finishing her cup.  She groans.  The alcohol seems to finally be really getting to her.  “I miss him so much.”

Hinata buries her face in her hands.  Sakura’s talking about herself, but it sounds so much like what she used to feel.  She used to feel exactly like that with Naruto.  She used to think they understood each other.  She used to think they had something special.  “How do you know you’re not just feeling that way one-sidedly?” she murmurs.

“Agh.  I guess I could never know for sure unless I asked him directly.”

She can feel her head swimming, her mind wandering, slowing as the alcohol overtakes her system.  “Sakura-chan...should I cut my hair?”

“What?!”

She fingers her hair thoughtfully, but very little thought is actually processing at this point.  She lifts up the strands.  “Short?  Do you think I’d look brighter that way?  Would it match me?”

“Why, Hinata?”

She shrugs.  “I guess I won’t.”

“...You can if you want to.”

Maybe it would make her feel less heavy.  Maybe it would be a physical way to take some weight off of her.

“You know what you should do?”

She glances back at Sakura and drops her hair.

“You should tell Naruto what you think.”

“Wha--.  No.” The temptation to take another cup of alcohol is there, and she holds the bottle, half-considering what another cup would do to her.

“You should tell him that he’d be better off with you.  Tell him that he should break up with Rumi-chan and-”

“No, Sakura-chan, no, I would never do that.”  She waves her hand to emphasize her words.

“Why not?  Fight for your man,” she states.  It’s obvious that Sakura would do that for Sasuke.

Hinata would fight...if Naruto was about to get killed by a terrorist group, but that’s far from what this is.  “...That’s just not me.  And Naruto-kun is not...not mine...” she reasons. Despite how tipsy she is right now, she’s glad she’s still holding onto some sense of self.

Sakura just laughs.  “There was a time...I thought Naruto acted like he was.”

“Acted like how?” she asks, not quite following.

“Acted like your man.”  Sakura turns and asks the waiter for another bottle.

Hinata shakes her head again in denial, scattering away memories of that time on Susumu’s birthday.  “I told you, he was just overprotective because he knew that I liked him.”  She decides to go for that third cup.  If she stops after this, she’ll still be okay in the morning.

“Ugh.  That’s so stupid.”

Hinata waits for Sakura to elaborate, but she doesn’t clarify if what’s stupid is her interpretation of Naruto’s actions, or Naruto’s actions themselves.  “What’s stupid?”

“Naruto is always stupid.”

Hinata smiles, even though she disagrees.  “I’m the one who’s stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” she scoffs.  She pours herself a fourth cup and finishes it almost that quickly.

Hinata mirrors her, taking another sip of her drink.  “I am.  I misunderstood him.  I shouldn’t have chased after him for so long.”

Sakura tsks.  “You never chased after him.”

“I know I didn’t chase him, but...you know how they say love is blind?  I guess I wouldn’t say I was blind...but maybe more like tunnel vision…”  All she ever saw was Naruto.  She wonders vaguely if she’s grown too accustomed to that.  How long will it take her to unlearn?

“No.  No, no, no, you know that’s not true!  That’s..no.  What are you saying, Hinata?  Love isn’t blind!  Love is..love is all-seeing!  Love isn’t tunnel vision, either!  It’s...like Sasuke-kun’s hawk.”

She agrees.  

She never felt blind.  

Not once with Naruto.  

Everything felt vivid--every moment, every word, every touch, every shared glance.

“Being in love is like a hawk’s eye.  I can pick him out in a crowd.  I can see everything about him in great focus.  Every little detail is clear to me.”  Sakura pours herself a fifth cup.  “Right?”

Her eyes are wet.  Her cheeks are wet.  Her hand is wet.

“Hinata!”  Sakura panics, grabbing at napkins for her.  “Don’t cry, oh my gosh, don’t cry.  It’s okay,” she murmurs.

“See, I’m so stupid.”  She wipes tears from her cheeks.  “I didn’t want to cry again, and then.”  Her eyes are leaking like a broken faucet.  Maybe tonight will be the last time.

“Hinata…”  Sakura places a hand, across the table, on Hinata’s arm, rubbing her soothingly.

“Sakura-chan, what if...what if I never fall in love again?  What if I never love anyone like I loved Naruto-kun?”  Fear, a fear she never wanted to actually name, clenches her heart, and everything burns.  Unbidden, tears form and fall.  What if she never moves on?  What if she never finds anything to compare, anything to come close to the feelings she’s held for him for so long.

Sakura doesn’t answer, and Hinata can’t see her through the fog in her eyes.  She rubs her thumb into Hinata’s arm, the sensation calming her runaway emotions.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”  She shutters through her apology and works to get herself back under control.

Sakura hums a disagreement.  “It’s okay to cry, Hinata…”

She shakes her head, wiping her face clean.  “I can’t keep crying.  I’ve cried so much.  I’m so tired of crying.”

Sakura gives a soft sigh.  “Let’s get out of here, okay?  It’s the alcohol.  Walking will make you feel better.”  She handles the tab and helps her up to standing.

The two make their way out of the izakaya.

She feels oddly numb now, the previous depression distant.  “Thank you for coming out with me tonight, Sakura-chan.”

“Of course, anytime, Hinata.  I’ll walk you home.”

They walk arm-in-arm.  It’s strangely touchier than she’s used to, but definitely comforting.  Appreciation fills her.  She’d never be able to tell anyone else her fears.  Anyone else would judge her, she’s sure that anyone else just wouldn’t get it.  She’s thankful for Sakura’s camaraderie.  She’s thankful that Sakura reached out to her first after the war because ever since, they’ve grown closer.  Tonight was just one among many other nights they’ve comforted or encouraged each other.

“-sn’t that her?...  Hah, I knew it, I told you, she’s a lesbian.”  A voice somewhere behind them, obnoxiously loud, cuts into her thoughts.  

It’s interesting to think the voice is talking about her.  She’s never been called gay before.  She never really considered it.  She looks around, and she notices that Sakura does, too.

Her eyes catch on Susumu, and then a friend beside him, who’s leering at herself and Sakura.

The alcohol in her system makes it so easy for her to just do nothing in reaction.  She stays put, staring at her ex, letting her thoughts slowly process that Susumu’s friend thinks she’s gay.  Gay because...

He stares right back at her.  He turns to his friend, then turns back to her.  His mouth opens, and words tumble out, louder than his usual.  “I’m sorry, he’s drunk and he gets annoying when he’s drunk and says things he doesn’t mean, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, I mean, I mean it’s completely fine if you’re a lesbian, I won’t take it personally, that’s cool, too, I mean, damn it I’m drunk...”

She’s aware enough to have figured that out in the first sentence.  Susumu never usually talks that much in one breath, never usually swears, either.  She laughs a little despite herself.

He gives her a small smile, but it’s weighted, from alcohol or from something else, she’s not sure.

Sakura loosens her hold on her arm, and she belatedly realizes that Sakura had latched on tighter when they saw them.

“What’s wrong with my main man?  This guy’s a catch, don’t you know?” the friend shouts at her face.

She blinks in response.

Sakura’s grip tightens once more.  She shifts forward, her intent buzzing in the air, a warning.

It makes her adrenaline pick up.  She squeezes Sakura’s wrist to hopefully calm her down.  She had been feeling so pleasant just a second ago.

But the friend doesn’t take the hint.  “How could you resist this face?”  He gestures at Susumu’s head.

“Stop,” Susumu shakes him off in annoyance, tilting over slightly too far, perhaps embarrassed, definitely drunk.

The friend points at their tightly linked arms.  “See, Susumu, pretty girls are always lesbians!”

“Shut up already.”

Sakura stays alert at her side, and maybe it’s because of her, she feels safe enough to just observe his friend rant like a clown.  His argument nudges at her brain, sends a barely-there message that Susumu told his friend about their break-up.  That his friend is doing a poor attempt at comforting him, and that she’s the reason he needs comfort.

She notices Susumu’s eyes steady on hers, and she wonders at his gaze.

The friend holds up his fingers mid-rant.  “-She must be one ‘cause she never kissed you, she barely hugged you, she hardly touched you,-”

His eyes abruptly shift to his friend, face suddenly livid.  “What the hell man shut up!”

She startles at his outburst, having never heard him yell before, especially not with so many profanities, and Sakura steps back, grip tight.

“Let’s go,” Sakura states, pulling at her arm, turning them around.

But she can’t move.

Ah, I really hurt him.

She never reached out to him.  She never really tried.

She never wanted him close, always tried to avoid any affection beyond hand-holding, kept herself safe behind her propriety and accustomed timidity, ignored the barrier she put up every time, pretended she didn’t have a set of standards never meant for him to match, at the back of her mind, she always compared him to-

She never tried.

Never tried to try.

Never actually tried to move on.

She steps toward him, pulling her arm free from Sakura.

“Hinata-” she starts, but Hinata continues forward until he turns at her approach.

His eyes widen at seeing her.  “I’m sor-”

She grasps his shoulders, pulling him down as she tiptoes.  She raises her chin, squeezes her eyes shut and-

It’s over in less than a second.

She opens her eyes to hear him releasing a breath, heavy, as if he had been holding it.  His own eyes are wide, like he just woke up from a thunderclap.

She settles back on her heels, about to let him go when his hands grip her waist.

“Wait,” he breathes.

She pauses.

He leans down, and she immediately registers the difference.  His lips move against hers softly, as if to drink her in, almost encouraging.  

She remembers he has experience, and then faintly considers, This is a real kiss.

“Hinata!” Sakura gasps, just as his friend hollers an “Ooooohh yeaahhhh!!” that jars her back to where they are.

In public.

In front of their friends.

She breaks away from him, blinking, attention on the ground, trying to gather herself together again.

She suddenly feels sober.

He holds her hands.  “Hinata.”

She blinks hard at the sidewalk.  Her brain hovers between comprehending her first kiss and checking herself, realizing that, no, she is very drunk.

“Hinata,” he repeats, louder over his friend’s cheering and babbling.

She continues to stare at the sidewalk, but then she realizes she can’t do that forever.  She looks up at him tentatively.

The gentleness in his expression is completely at odds to his earlier tone, a centering, an anchor, for the tumbling inside her.  “...Do you want to try again with me?”

She can hear so much hope in his voice.

Hope.

She wants to hope, too.

She nods.

He squeezes her hands, a smile unfurling across his face.  

She watches him, mirroring his smile, knowing that, somehow, she’s now the cause of his unchecked happiness, too.

“Great, great, that’s really great,” he murmurs.

She sees how his smile stays, and thinks maybe it really is just a matter of time.  Given another ten years, she can learn to love someone else.  Maybe Susumu.  She just has to try.  She just has to reach out more.

Just has to act it until she feels it.  

Her heart may lag behind her actions, but eventually it would catch up, right?

He brings his hands up to his temples, pushes his hair back, looking up to smile over her head at his whooping friend.

Hinata steps away, toward Sakura.

Sakura’s watching her, jaw slightly dropped, eyes wide, brows furrowed.

She tilts her head, determining that Sakura looks disapproving.

Susumu’s hand grabs hers before she can walk any further away, turning her around.  He glides his hand up through her nape, threads his fingers down the length of her hair, an action that feels far more affectionate, way more intimate than anything he’d ever done to her before.

It’s nice and fuzzy feeling.  Like maybe that’s how Akamaru feels when petted.

“Damn beautiful.”  A murmur, a tone quieter, lower, thicker than usual.

She realizes he actually thinks she’s beautiful.  He really believes that about her.

“First thing tomorrow, I’ll call on you, okay?”  His voice is almost a whisper.

She opens her eyes, realizing that she closed them, and nods.

He lets out a heavy sigh, then something like a frustrated groan, his hand tightening around hers.  Then a chuckle.  “I’m so drunk.  I’m sorry.  I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

She nods again.

He releases her and steps toward his friend, who swings an arm around him.  He laughs in response, and she notes it’s very boyish.

Cute.

It seems like she still hasn’t lost her habit of adding up his good points.

She watches them walk away before turning and making her way to Sakura.  She tilts her head again in a question.

Sakura frowns, hesitating, gaze averting away to the ground, before finally asking, “Hinata, are you sure?”

“No.”  The answer comes out so immediate, so definite and simple, that it startles her.  Tears spring to her eyes faster than she can manage.

Vodka on his breath, in front of the darkened windows of a realty business, in front of Sakura, in front of that noisy stranger, under the yellow streetlights on a cloudy night.  Two faces closer than acceptable and hers had no heat behind it.  

Only passive observation.  

Only a shapeless, complacent sense of accomplishment that she did what she told herself to do.

She feels like she can’t breathe, like she was backstabbed, only it was self-inflicted, and she curls inward, hating the shriveled lump of weeds her core has become.  “I-I just want to feel better, Sakura-chan, I just want to stop feeling like this.”  She rubs hot tears from her eyes, and Sakura hugs her, murmuring words of comfort in her ear.

****

He came back at lunch, Sakura’s only availability for the day, and firmly sets the scroll down on her desk.  He looks at her as seriously as he can so that she knows how serious he is.  “Okay, something’s wrong with me, Sakura-chan.  I’m really sick.”

Sakura’s eyes flicker from the scroll to his face.  “You’ve never been sick a day in your life.  I’ve seen your records.”

“I know.”  He unrolls the scroll and unlocks it.  

Those things poof onto the paper.

They stare at them.

After a few, long, silent seconds, Sakura shifts her gaze back to Naruto.  “Why do you have flower petals?” she asks, annoyance edging at her voice.

“Is that what they are?!” he asks incredulously because he knows that’s what they look like, but he also knows he’s never had flowers in his diet.  “I don’t know if someone’s playing a practical joke on me because if someone is, I’d like to know their tricks.  This is fucked up, I’ve been barfing those things out for the past, I don’t know, a week I guess, and it’s getting worse!”

“Okay, slow down, you’ve been vomiting out...this...”  She gestures at the things.

“Yeah.”  He nods his head with a large frown.  “Kurama says he doesn’t know what’s going on either.”  

He asked him before coming.  Kurama simply told him his hosts always had excellent health, so he wouldn’t know.

Sakura takes a deep breath.  She reseals the scroll.  “I’ll have this examined.”  Grabbing her clipboard and a record sheet, she turns to him again and clears her throat.  “I need to know more.  Do you have any idea of what might be causing this?”

“No,” he says, panic slipping through his tone.  It’s apparent that Sakura doesn’t know what’s going on with him, either, and he doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s frightening.

“Are there certain times of the day when this happens?  After you eat or...when you wake up in the morning?...”

He pauses to think.  “Well...the first time...I was at home.  At night.  After dinner.”  He remembers Rumi was over.  “And then the second time was last night.  We were eating dinner at that popular sushi restaurant.  I had to vomit in the restaurant’s bathroom.  Then right after that...when I got home…”  He grimaces at the memory.  “Then later on last night, too. I barfed three times last night.”

Sakura nods, writing everything down.  “What did you eat before that first time?”

“Uhhhh...I think it was yakiniku.”

“...Okay.  You went out with Rumi?”

“Yeah.”

“And is she getting sick?”

“No, she’s fine.”

“How do you feel right now?”

“I feel...fine, I guess.”

“No fever, stomach aches, cold shivers?”

“It happens really suddenly, like there’s hardly any warning.”  He looks to his former teammate, hoping for any sign of realization in her expression.

She looks stern, like she’s thinking.  “So you can just be having a normal conversation, and then you’ll suddenly feel like vomiting?...  Were there any smells or possible triggers that you can remember?  Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Not that I can think of…”

“Okay.  Is there anything else you can tell me?”

He reflects on his experiences last night.  There is one thing.  “It’s like...whatever those things are...are coming from my chest.  Not so much my stomach, like...I have a few seconds where I feel like I can’t breathe.  Especially the third time last night.  My chest really hurt.”

“Was it a sharp pain?  An aching pain?”

He hums in thought.  “I guess an aching pain.”

“I’m going to examine you.”  She stands up and walks around to him.

He unzips his coat to facilitate her examination.

Her hands glow green, and she hovers them above his mesh-clothed chest.  Her eyes have that focused-absent look, like she’s seeing something that he can’t.  “Your chakra...is congested in your chest.”  Her hands move closer to him.  Her head tilts in thought.  She moves her hands to hover over his stomach.  “...You seem perfectly fine here.”  Her hands move back up.

He stays perfectly still for her, waiting for her to explain more.

But she doesn’t.  She backs away and returns to her clipboard, noting down her unshared thoughts.

“What should I do?” he finally asks.

“You have a chakra illness, that much is clear.  I’m pulling you off missions until we can get this sorted out.”

“What?!”  He slams his hands on her desk in shock.  He needs missions.  He needs to keep proving himself to the village.  He needs to keep working to be the Hokage.  He can’t be sitting around twiddling his thumbs.

Sakura glares at him.  “We don’t know how severe this could be.  Your chakra seems to be twisting all around your respiratory tract.  Whether protectively or dangerously is the question.  Any exertion could potentially exacerbate the situation, and I don’t want you keeling over in the middle of a fight because you can’t breathe.”

“I’ve been fine!  I’ve been training all week, it’s just that other night and last night I felt sick, but I felt completely better right after!”

“No, Naruto.  We need to monitor you.  Be thankful I’m not ordering you to hospital bedrest.”  She looks at him pointedly, challenging him to go against her any further.

He huffs and sits down with a defeated plop.  “Is there anything I can do or take to get better?”

Sakura studies her notes thoughtfully.  “Monitor yourself.  Note down everything that you consume and do.  Do not train.  If your condition worsens, check in at the hospital immediately.”

He squints, frowns, opens his mouth to argue about not training, then shuts it.  “...What do you mean by...everything.  Like going to the bathroom, walking around my place?”

She rolls her eyes.  “The places you go to, the people you talk to!  Oh!  And no sex.  Do not engage in any sexual intercourse or anything that leads to orgasm until we figure out what we’re dealing with.”

He stiffens, awkwardness making him sputter.  “I don’t do anything like that.”

“Naruto,” Sakura starts, looking him dead in the eyes.  “There’s no need to act so immature.  I’m a medic.  As you should be aware, orgasm disrupts chakra control.  You don’t want to choke and die while doing it with your girlfriend.  That would be a humiliating way to go.”

“Rumi doesn’t-”

“With that said, what you can do is meditate.  Regulate your chakra as much and as often as possible.  Keep away from activities or people that agitate you, and just try to stay as calm as you can.”

He supposes meditation beats doing nothing, but she’s basically telling him to do nothing.  But he keeps himself from arguing that point.  The last thing he wants is being contained to the hospital.

*

That night, he relays everything Sakura told him to Rumi, minus the sex part.  That would just be too uncomfortable to discuss.

“It’s serious then,” she says worriedly.  “She even took you off of missions.”

“Yeah, but Sakura doesn’t even know what it is.  It might not be that bad.”

Rumi looks him over.  “You do seem okay.  But I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Yeah.  I feel fine, though.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah.  But this sucks.  I can’t do anything.”

Rumi nods.

It gets quiet between them.

Usually when she comes over, they just fool around with each other.  He can’t do that anymore.  He realized it really would be humiliating if he died on her in any state of undress, and the past couple of times seemed to prove Sakura’s point.  Whenever they got close to being intimate, he vomited.  While he was doing it by himself, too…

It’s still quiet.  He doesn’t really like quiet.  What does he usually talk about?

“Naruto-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really feeling okay?”

“Yeah!  I feel fine!”

“That’s good.  Hopefully this illness will just pass.”

“Yeah.”

He feels awkward silence take over again.  He should ask her about her recent missions or something.

“Do you have any idea of what could be causing you to get sick?”

“No…”

Now he really doesn’t know what to say.  Whenever he asks her about her missions, her responses are usually the same anyway.  “It was fine.”  Or “nothing really happened.”  She’s not much of a storyteller.  She’s a wind-user, too, so there isn’t much that she knows that he’s not already familiar with.

“Naruto-kun…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really feeling okay?”

“Mhm.  Yeah.”

She studies his face.  “Are you tired?”

He frowns.  He feels antsy actually.  “I’m not tired.  I did nothing all day.  Just ate at Ichiraku for dinner.”

“You always eat there!” she laughs.

“Well, Sakura told me to stay as calm as possible, and Ichiraku’s the most peaceful place on earth!”

She shakes her head.  “You’re obsessed with their ramen.  You’re going to get fat one day.”

“Rumi, I would gladly get fat for Ichiraku.”

She scrunches a face at him.  “Even after all of the different places we’ve eaten at, you still think Ichiraku is the best?”

“Of course!” he says seriously.  “You can show me any restaurant on earth, but none would ever compare.”

She sighs dramatically.  “I’ll never understand.”

What’s not to understand?  “They have the best consistency of noodles, the best broth, the best chashu.”

“Hmm I guess I’d have to compare with other ramen places.”

“The difference is obvious!”

“I like udon more, though.  Ichiraku doesn’t sell udon.”

“Udon?” he says in disbelief.  “Ramen is so much better!  In the end, it’s all about the broth!  That’s what you’re left with anyway once you’ve eaten all the noodles!”

“Yeaahhh, but, I just like chewier noodles.”

He openly stares at her.  He cannot believe this.

“And ramen doesn’t usually come with tempura.  Udon tastes good with tempura.”

Deep fried shrimp.  Expensive.  And he thought Ichiraku ramen was a splurge.  Also… “And you’re calling me fat?”

She laughs off his argument.  

“Ramen tastes better!  There’s more depth of flavor!”

“Okay, okay,” she says, but he knows she’s just saying that.

“I’m serious!”

“Mhm.  That’s fine.  That’s what you think.”

He frowns at her.  He took that discussion much more seriously that she did.  “You can’t just tell me udon is better than ramen and not expect me to debate that.  There is no udon on earth that’s better than Ichiraku’s ramen!”

“We just have different tastes, Naruto-kun!”

He understands that, but he also doesn’t.  It doesn’t seem okay.  She needs to understand that Ichiraku’s ramen is the best.  “Rumi.  Ichiraku’s ramen is better than udon.”

She rolls her eyes.  “You’re obsessed.”

“No, I’m just stating facts.”

“You can’t compare ramen and udon.  They’re two different types of food.  If you took the best ramen and the best udon, they’d both be the best!”

“You’re the one who said you like udon more than ramen!”

“Oh.  I said that, didn’t I… Well, now I’m saying that they’re both good, okay?”

He can’t believe she just went back on her original words so easily.  Girls really are confusing.  Even with getting older, he still doesn’t understand them.  Kanae was the same.  First saying they were dating, and then saying that they weren’t.  What’s up with that?  Why do they always change their minds?  Why don’t they say what they mean?  Like Sakura, saying that she didn’t like Sasuke anymore.

Good thing he could tell she was lying that time.

Rumi’s not straightforward either.  She holds things in, tells him he doesn’t “get it.”  Why doesn’t she just tell him?

He blinks at her.

“I’ll take you to a really good udon place I know of!” she continues, oblivious to his confusion.

“It won’t be as good as Ichiraku’s.”

She sighs heavily.  “I’m not saying that it will be, okay.  I just want you to try it!”

Why eat anywhere else if it won’t be as good?  But he decides not to share those thoughts.  Rumi likes eating out at a lot of different places.

And that’s fine.

It just makes him a little anxious.

He remembers which places shooed him away from the windows.  Even if he didn’t want to go in, they’d yell at him if he got a little too close for their comfort.  Yelled at him that he was bad for business. That he’d disturb the other customers.

He knows that none of those places would do that to him now.  He knows that.

That doesn’t mean he wants to patron those places now.

He thinks maybe he should tell her the real reason he hasn’t tried different places.

“Have you been here before?” she’ll always ask.

And he always tells her, “Nope.  Never tried this place before.”

And then she always looks at him with eyes wide, an expression of shock.  “I can’t believe you’ve never been here!  You have to try their tonkatsu!”  Or misoyaki salmon. Or nabe.  It’ll be the same when they go get udon later.  All these foods he’s had on very rare occasions with Team 7 when Kakashi was feeling generous and responsible.  

Some foods were simply too fancy and expensive for him to have tried on his own.  He had no one to tell him to eat it.

It’s just a facet of his past that he doesn’t know how to bring up with her.  She’s younger than him, so she’s even less aware of his past than his other friends.

The topic is also just too heavy to think about.  Or really talk casually about.

So he never tells her.

She doesn’t need to know.

He guesses it’s probably a good thing for him to try other places.  Maybe kind of a way to heal and accept his past and the villagers.

*

He’s so bored.

It’s only the second day of being on sick leave, and he can’t take the monotony.

He guesses he’ll just…

Walk around.

Or something.

He steps outside.  Entertains himself with kicking loose stones to the side of the walkway.  Everything’s so dusty with continuous construction and modernization around the village.  There’s always random rocks here and there.

Teuchi-jiisan told him that Ichiraku’s might turn into a full-service restaurant soon.  They have plans in the works.  They’d have to close, though.  

He’s happy for him and Ayame-neesan.  Less happy about not having his favorite ramen for a whole season, but he knows that they deserve all the recognition for their food.  If only Rumi understood the gloriousness of their ramen.

He senses her.

He looks up.

Everything from two nights ago floods back to him.  How she looked.  How she was with that guy.  How she talked to him with that cold tone.  How she looked at him..glared...  Like she...

He freezes, nerves racing up his limbs, tightness in his chest.  

She looks so worried.  “Naruto-kun?...”  Hesitation laces her voice.  “Do you have a moment?”

He realizes she wants to talk to him.  He nods, even though he has no idea what to expect from her.  The unknown of this situation sets him on edge, makes him feel frustrated and helpless in a way he’s not used to being around her.

“...For the other night, I’m sorry.”

A jolt rattles through him.  She’s apologizing?

“I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.  You’re a good friend to me, and I know you must have had a reason.  Please accept my apology.”  She bows deeply, her long hair sweeping over her shoulders toward the ground.

“Hinata…”  It’s like a medicine.  Her words a cooling numbness over his anxiety.  It breaks through his own confusion over the matter, it makes him clearly wonder...why.  

Why did any of that happen?

What would make her act that way toward him?

She’s never-

“Naruto-kun?”

He comes out of his thoughts and sees her looking at him.  Concern shadows her expression.  He's struck with an awful sensation that the girl he used to know isn't there.  A chill sinks through him.  She looks so worried.  So sad.

Why does she look so sad?

Is it because of that guy?  “...Do you...really..like that guy?”

She blinks at him.  “Susumu-kun?” she asks.  

He holds in a grimace.  “Yeah.  Susumu.”  

Her light gaze drops slightly, eyes averting.  “I like him,” she says, her voice almost as small as a whisper.  “He’s nice to me.”  She looks up again.

His brow furrows, his gut twisting.  She likes him?  Why?  He’s nice to her?  Really?  It doesn’t look like it.  She doesn’t look happy.  She shouldn’t be with that guy.  She’s not happy. “...He’s nice to you?”

“Yes,” she states, too immediately for his liking.  “He is.  He’s almost too nice.”

He looks down to hide the heaviness pulling at him.  That guy’s nice to her?  Nice to her how?... “...You really like him?” he asks.  He realizes he needs to know this.  He needs to know.

He watches her brows raise.  The shimmer in her gaze waver.  The tension in her eyes grow.

She looks away.

She keeps her face turned down.

She doesn’t answer him.

But he already knows.  She doesn’t really like that guy.

So if she doesn’t like him, then why.  Why?  Why is she-??

“But you want to be with him,” he says, coming to the horrible realization that it doesn’t matter that she doesn’t like him.  She’s choosing to be with him.  She’s choosing...  He feels his throat close up, his chest clench painfully.  

“...I need to try, Naruto-kun…” she murmurs.

He can’t breathe.  She’s trying to like that guy.  Why?  He’s not good enough for her!  What does he have?  

Images run through his head.  That guy taking off her sweater, holding her hand, looking at her.  Holding her?  Feeling her?  Kissing her?

Having her!!

She chose him!

He flees.  As fast as he possibly can around the building, out of her eyesight.  The pressure building at his throat, acid filling his mouth.

He retches.

He can’t breathe.

It’s stuck in his throat.

He chokes.  He’s doubled over, heaving, trying to force it out.

It comes loose.

He has his mouth open as wide as possible, he’s screaming to get it out.

It lands in the puddle of his spit and stomach acid.

He blinks through the tears and gasps for air.

He knows what it is.  He’s had a feeling since before.  But seeing it is different.

A white flower.

A lily.

Each petal sealed together.  An actual flower.  Not just petals.

It’s gotten worse.

He’s supposed to tell Sakura.

He goes home.  Shuts himself in.  He’ll tell her later.  

He doesn’t feel good.

*

“I don’t feel like it tonight.”  He’s trying to convince Rumi that he doesn’t want to go out.

“Is this about the udon versus ramen thing from last night?” she asks, hands on her hips, eyes squinting at him.

“No.”  He’s not in the mood for that discussion again either.  “Sorry,” he remembers to add.  “I just don’t feel like it.”

“Fine,” she sighs, in a way that sounds like she’s not fine with it at all.  “But when I come back from my mission, you’re coming with me!”

He nods half-heartedly.

She marches into his kitchen and opens his fridge.  “You went grocery shopping the other day, right?”  She scrutinizes his shelves.  “We can make...nikujaga.”

“Okay.”  Meat and potatoes.  A simple dish that even he can make.  Just toss everything in the pot and let it simmer.  But…

He watches her remove his pork from the fridge.  He bought that to make ramen.  He wants to tell her so, but he’s not in the mood for her nagging, either.  "You should eat something other than ramen!”  “You eat too much ramen!”  “You’re going to get fat one day!”  “You’re obsessed with ramen!”  Sometimes it’s funny.  But all he eats these days are other things, at least when he’s with her.  She never wants to just enjoy ramen with him.

“You can start the rice.”

He goes to his rarely-touched container and portions it out while she washes and skins the potatoes.  He’s careful to rinse the rice.  Not like the first time they cooked together.  And he just filled the pot with water and turned the cooker on.  And she freaked out on him.  

The Sandaime taught him to cook rice when he was really little, but he was really little.  So he just got used to doing things the simplest way.  No one was there to help his little hands control the pot and and all the water and all the tiny grains.

Anyway, he didn’t tell her that.

It just didn’t seem like something he could say when she was panicking about dirty rice and looking at him like he came from another world.

But it’s kind of nice to make more than one cup of rice.  To know he’s not cooking by himself.

After rinsing the rice a few times, he starts the cooker.

She smiles at him appreciatively, sweetly.

He grins.  “See, I’m a master now.”

“Yes, you are!” she agrees happily.

After they’re finished eating, they sit close together on his couch.  But unlike other nights, he’s not really in the mood for this, either.

She’s there, at the back of his mind, with that guy, and he doesn’t want to think about it.  It makes him feel sick.

“Naruto-kun, how did you feel today?”

He stiffens.  “I was okay.”  He lied.  He lied.  He never lies.  At least not to Rumi.

“That’s good.  You didn’t vomit again?”

“...No.”  ...He just doesn’t want her to worry, right?

“Maybe you’re getting better!”

He nods.  He’s getting worse.

She leans against him and sighs happily.

Usually, usually, he likes this.  He likes having her close.  He likes being with her.

He can’t help but wonder if she does this, with that guy.  A knot grows at the center of his chest.

“Naruto-kun?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, and he thinks, he’s getting the hang of this.

She turns her chin against his arm, looks up at him.  A shine in her hazel eyes.  “Why do you love me?”

He blinks at her.  Why?  It’s pretty simple.  He’s told her this before, too.  “You’re here with me.  You put up with me.”  Like putting up with his “obsession” with ramen and his inadequate rice skills.  “I love you because you love me.”

She sits up.  She looks away in thought, her brows furrowing.  “Okay…”  She pauses.  “But...why do you love me?”

Why do I love her?  Didn’t I…  He answered wrong somehow.  “What do you mean?”

“Like...anyone could love you.  Anyone could be here with you,” she answers quietly.

He shakes his head.  Rumi thinks so highly of him.  Maybe he really should tell her more about his past.  “That’s not true, not just anyone would be with me.  I told you about Kanae, right?  She broke up with me...she couldn’t deal with me…”

“Yeah, but…”  Her lips purse in thought.  “So many people love you, Naruto-kun.”

He scratches his neck.  He knows those people don’t actually know him.  “You can ask any of my friends,” he says softly.  Should he really tell her this?  “Especially when I was younger, nobody liked me.”

“Really?” she asks in quiet disbelief.  “But you have so many friends now.”

“Yeahh, well, when I was younger, even my own teammates, Sakura-chan and Sasuke, they hated me.”

“....Why?”

“I guess…”  He asked that same question when he was younger.  “Because everyone else hated me.  It was just what everyone did.”  He also knows he was an annoying little shit, but that was because he wanted attention that nobody was giving.

“...Everyone?” she asks.

“Well...maybe not everyone…”  He occasionally had Shikamaru and Choji as playmates, and Hinata was always-

He feels all the color drain out of him, run down through his feet, tears threaten his eyes.

“Because you have Kurama?  Nobody liked you?” Her questions feel far away.

She cared about him when no one else did and why is she trying to like-  The stones in his chest push up abruptly, and he bends over, unable to hold it back.

Tears spill as the contents of his body swell and bulk from his throat, burning his esophagus raw.

“Naruto-kun!!” she shrieks.

A large wet flower falls out of his mouth.

“Wha-” she gasps.  Rumi runs to the kitchen.  She comes back with paper towels.

He’s still bent over, unwilling to show her his undoubtedly unattractive face covered in ugly tears and spit.

“What is…”  She kneels, trying to mop up his mess.  “A flower?  Is that a lily?”  She passes him a towel.

He wipes his face and mouth.  Spits excess gunk into the napkin.  He doesn’t answer.  That’s what it is.  The head of a lily.

“What kind of sickness is this?” she gasps.  “Your chakra is doing this?  You need to tell Sakura-san!”

He was never particularly religious.  Even though he finally got to meet his parents, and their conversations hold a special place in his heart, he never felt the need to visit their graves.  He never felt a need to place flowers or food.  They were fine when he met them.  They weren’t suffering.  They were happy and proud of him, even though he never went to see them.

In the past, at the time of the year when everyone goes to the graves to pay their respects to their ancestors, he never knew where to go.  He never participated.

He never had anyone to thank for giving him life.

He never felt particularly thankful for having a life.

He also hated just being alone in a crowd.

No one to go with.

No one to talk to in front of the graves.

Now he knew where to go.  He knew who his parents were.  He still didn’t really want to go.  He got to thank them, didn’t he?  When he met them?  So he didn’t have any reason to do it again, right?

But there is one person he never got to thank for his life.

He hesitated outside of Yamanaka Flowers, just kind of stood there, watching people going in and out.

It’s not like Neji was his ancestor.  But he never got to thank him in words.

“Naruto-kun?”

He looked to see her coming over to him.  “Hi, Hinata.”

“Hello,” she greeted softly.  “Are you going to buy flowers for the festival?”

He nodded.  Just a second ago, he was so unsure.  But he thought now that maybe he really would.  “Yeah…”

“For your parents?” she guessed.

“Actually, I was thinking of getting flowers for Neji…”  He watched her to see her reaction.

She smiled, a small thing that brightened her whole face, brought a shine to her eyes.  “Me, too.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded.  “My family and I are going after lunch.  Would you like to...join us?”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

She looked up at him, her gaze searching his.  “Then...if you wouldn’t mind...could I join you?”

He’s always so surprised at how she seemed to know exactly what to say.  “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

She smiled again.  She looked truly happy.  “What time were you thinking of going?”

“I guess...now?  After I get flowers?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

She bought white lilies.  The same flowers she laid at the remembrance ceremony.  He bought white lilies, too.  He didn’t know what else to get.

They laid their flowers at his grave.  They prayed silently.  

It was unexpectedly quiet.  He was surprised.  With so many visitors, he expected a lot more noise.  Instead, it felt like they were in a bubble.  As if everything and everyone around them didn’t matter.  

All that mattered was this.  

This moment between them.  Between them and the grave.

“Neji-niisan...he brought me these flowers once.  When I was in the hospital,” she murmured.

He glanced at her, then back down at the flowers.  “That’s nice,” he responded, equally quiet.  As if anything louder than this would shatter a delicate peace, would disrupt the tranquil bubble surrounding them.  

“Yes.  It was really thoughtful of him.  He didn’t have to.”

He nodded.  There was a time when Neji would have never done something like that.  But he changed.

“I never got to return the gesture.  Neji-niisan was never in the hospital,” she whispered.

They sat that way for a long time.  Eyes lowered on his grave.

After about an hour, they got up.  Dusted their legs off.  They stood facing each other, hot summer wind blowing between them.  

Before this, he never knew what this part of the festival was like.  Now he knew.  “Hinata, thank you for coming with me.”

She shook her head.  She smiled at him gently.  “Thank you for letting me come with you.”  Her shoulders raised in shy discomfort, her fingers twisting together, her feet shifted in the grass.  She tucked her chin a bit, but she looked up at him through dark lashes.  “Next time, please let me join you again...that is, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Of course he didn’t mind.  He appreciated it more than words could ever say.

They visited Neji’s grave together again that year for the annual memorial.  It just felt right.  And other occasions after that.  This past summer, too.

They always brought white lilies.

*

A sign?  A foreboding message?  The flower he always takes to Neji’s grave, blooming out of him painfully.  

Even he’s not stupid enough to not realize that it’s hurting him, that it’s getting worse and likely will continue to get worse.  His chakra is out of wack, attacking his lungs.  He doesn’t have to meditate to feel the congestion and weight of his chakra in his chest.  Ever since the petals formed actual flowers, he doesn’t feel better after each throw-up.

He feels sick.

He feels anxious and helpless.

He feels like any wrong move could lead to another episode, like those flowers, those lilies, are just waiting to burst out of him.

Somewhere between last week and this week, he crossed a line of no-return.

And he fears.

He fears the cure is out of his control.

He sees her every time he remembers the lilies, and he feels a little worse.  The knot in his chest twitches or grows.  His breathing gets harder.  The bottom of his throat burns, irritated from acid.

He goes to see Sakura again.

“It’s getting worse?” she asks immediately when he steps through her office door.

“No…”  He lied.  Again.  “I just wanted to tell you that I think it really is white lilies.”  He doesn’t think it.  He knows it.

She sighs.  Heavily.  “I know.  I tested the substances yesterday.”

He nods.  Of course she already figured that out.

“You haven’t been vomiting any more up, have you?”

He shakes his head.  He doesn’t want to be confined to the hospital.  “Did you figure anything else out, yet?”

“I’ve been discussing your case with Shishou.  She said she thinks she’s heard of something like this before, but she’s not sure.  We have to go through the past medical records.  And it’s a lot.  I don’t know how long it will take for us to find anything, or if we’ll find anything at all, but when we do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“...So...what happens if you don’t find anything?”  He doesn’t get it.  What’s wrong with him?  Why don’t Sakura and Tsunade know?  They’re the top medic-nin in the world, and they don’t know what’s wrong?!

“In the case that this doesn’t go away on its own, we’ll have to conduct a thorough examination.  It may involve going through your memories to find a root cause.”  

“That’s…”  He stares at her in horror.  That’s incredibly invasive.  “Why?”

“That’s worst case scenario.  You see, Naruto, the thing is, chakra illnesses are not the same as sicknesses of the body.  Chakra is still being studied.  New discoveries are being made every day.  Each person’s chakra is unique.  A person’s chakra is influenced by the parents’, but also by the environmental factors they grow up in, as well as moods and feelings.  Chakra can be shared, it can be conditioned, it can be strengthened, as you know it can be mixed with nature energy, and its depletion can lead to death.  Who knows what else and more there is to be discovered!”

He nods, not sharing in her enthusiasm about chakra at all.  His own chakra is killing him.  Did she learn that from her books?  Apparently not.  He makes to leave.

“Wait!”

He stops.

“Before you go, I want to know if you’ve thought of anything else.  It’s your body, and it’s your chakra.  What connection do you have to white lilies?”

He stares at Sakura.  Her face flashes through his mind’s eye, and the knot in his chest pinches.  “I don’t know,” he mumbles out.  “I’m not much of a flower person,” he adds, for no reason other than to reject the pain.  He actually usually likes flowers.

Sakura deflates a bit.  “Okay.  Well, if you figure anything out, let me know right away.  Any bit of information helps.”

“Thanks, Sakura-chan.”  He leaves.  

*

He meditates for hours on end.  Just like when he was going through his Sage training five years ago.

He stores up nature energy and distracts himself with the hundreds of pulsating, twinkling lives around him.  He quiets his mind and lets himself seep into everything around him.

It makes him feel a little better.  Like Sakura suggested, it really helps to relieve the pressure.  It seems to help him regulate his chakra, and after a solid session of meditation, his chest doesn’t feel nearly as heavy.

Until one morning.

He senses her with someone else.  The two alone.  In the woods.  At a training ground.

Instinctively he knows exactly who it is.  He knows exactly what they’re doing.

He can sense Hinata’s chakra flaring to life, and he knows her chakra.  He’s been on the receiving end of her blows, and he can just imagine her fighting expressions, her form and strength, and-

Aggravation unlike anything seizes his muscles.

He cuts the connection, dissipates the nature energy as fast as possible, his chakra balance dangerously thrown off.

He stares at his wall, but instead he sees her.   He sees the dauntless lines of her Juuken, every powerful strike of her graceful hands, the astounding manifestation of her vibrant chakra on her fists, the stunning challenge she invokes, increasingly working brilliantly faster, and he-

He feels too large for his space, a man stuffed in a sealed barrel with no way out.  The smell of his vomit makes him only choke out another one.  This time he made it to his trashcan.

But what does it matter if he makes a mess.

He threw his papers all over the floor.  He broke his table.  He shattered a glass against the wall.

He doesn’t feel better.

He feels worse.

There’s no way back.  There’s no stopping it.

That guy loves her.  If he didn’t before, he does now because there’s nothing like it.  There’s nothing to compare after seeing her like that.

His eyes burn, and his face flames with frustration that has no outlet.  His hands clench and unclench, he squeezes blunt nails into his palms.

He stares at a fully bloomed lily, the stamens streak orange stains on the petals.

“Oh no,” she gasped.  Her finger wiped at brown splotches on the stone.

He frowned at the sight.

“The caretakers must leave the flowers out for too long,” she murmured as she took out a handkerchief from her pocket.

“Those marks are from the flowers?” he asked.

She nodded.  “The pollen falls off the flowers when the flowers get old.  They can leave a stain.”  She rubbed hard at the headstone.

He filled the grave’s bamboo cup with water.  She dipped her handkerchief in the water, then rubbed.  And rubbed.  And rubbed.

He tried to clean the stone, too.

After awhile, he thought maybe the stains wouldn’t come out.  “You know, maybe he likes some color.  It’s a reminder that you visit him.”

She smiled in spite of her dismay.  “A reminder for him that you visit, too.”

He nods.  “Yeah!  You know, the stains turned kind of orange now, and, y’know, I’m orange, the stains are orange, it’s definitely symbolic.”

She laughed, a sound that made it seem like the graveyard was actually the most peaceful and wonderful place on earth.  “I’ll come back later with proper cleaning supplies.  I’m sure Neji-niisan doesn’t like being orange.”

He laughed, too.

The memory leaves him with no warmth.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to prevent tears.

She chose that guy.  She chose that guy.  She chose that guy.

What about me?  What about us?  Why did she choose that guy?  How could she?

How could she just…

*

Rumi stares at his empty dining area.  “Where did your table go?”

“I threw it out,” he answers shortly.

Her confused gaze darts to him.  “Oh.  Are you thinking of getting a new one?”

He shrugs.  “Guess so.”

“Naruto-kun?”  She steps closer to him, her hand coming up to his arm.  “What’s wrong?”

He steps away from her unthinkingly.

Her hand is left in the air.  Her hand folds, and she brings it down to her side.  “What’s wrong?” she asks again.

He knows what’s wrong.  But he can’t tell her what’s wrong.  He can’t tell her that he spied on Hinata and her boyfriend, found out that they were sparring, broke his table and vomited out two more flowers consecutively while she was away.

“Are you feeling sick?”

“No.  I’m fine.”  It sounds like a lie even to his own ears.

“Naruto-kun, tell me what’s wrong!  We need to communicate.”

He turns and stares at her.  “We need to communicate?” he repeats.  “You never tell me what’s bothering you!  And when I do tell you what I think, you get mad at me!”

She blinks at him in shock at his sudden yell.  Her face twists into a frown.  “I don’t get mad at you!  What are you talking about?”

“You got mad at me when I talked about my friends that are girls!  You don’t like it when I talk about ramen!  You got mad when you saw how I cooked rice!”

“Wha-  I haven’t gotten mad about your friends in a long time!  It was just that once!  That was a long time ago!  And it wasn’t about that!  I was mad because you didn’t seem to care that I didn’t like you talking about them!”

He squints at her, confused.

“And I don’t get mad when you talk about ramen or how you cooked rice!”

“Really because it seemed that way to me!”  The more he’s thought about it, the more he thinks she overreacts.

“Noo, what?!  I wasn’t mad!  I don’t get mad!  I just thought that it was weird!”

He pauses to process that.  But he doesn’t like it any better.  “Well maybe I don’t like it that you think I’m weird!”

“What?  Wha-”  She stares at him with that look again, like he’s from another planet.  “Why didn’t you tell me back then!  You were thinking about that all this time?  That was like...so long ago!”

“Well I’m telling you now!  And don’t act like you don’t do the same thing!  You hold onto stupid stuff, too!”

She pauses, then gasps, obviously offended.  “...Is that what you think?  When I get upset, you think that it’s stupid?”

He throws his hands into the air.  “Well you never explain yourself, so yeah, I have no idea what you’re upset about, and I think it’s stupid!”

She glares at him.  Her eyes suddenly gloss, filled with tears.  “I come back from my mission to check on you, and this is what you’ve got to say to me?”

He glares back.  She doesn’t apologize for anything he was upset about, and now she cries?  What the hell?  She just does that to make him feel bad!

She turns abruptly and storms out of his apartment.

His door slams.

He stands there, his body seething with repressed frustration.

On instinct, he rushes to his toilet.

Nothing happens.

He’s so mad, but nothing.

He doesn’t feel at all like vomiting.

He leaves his bathroom, throws himself on his bed.

Shuts his eyes.

He knows he shouldn’t have yelled at Rumi like that, but he’s been on edge since two days ago.  He’s afraid to meditate.  He’s afraid to find out more.  He’s afraid that what’s happening…

Has to do with her.

He’s afraid that his fear is correct.

Because if it is…

He thinks it’ll be too painful, he might die.

Actually die.

His chakra is constricting his breathing.  His chest is heavy.  His eyes burn.

She chose him.  She chose him.

[girrsah]

Chapter: 7/? Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia); more to come as story progresses Characters: Todoroki Fuyumi, Dabi (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Hawks (My Hero Academia), Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko

Additional Tags:

Dabi is a Todoroki, Fuyumi and Dabi Twin AU, mentions of child abuse, Abuse, Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, vigilante!Fuyumi, non-canon compliant, PTSD, more pairings to come but I don't want to spoil them, self-care, sometimes self-care is kicking your brother's ass, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Dating, more relationships as they occur in the fic

She always hated coming here.

She’d seen the campus a few times when she and Touya were approaching their first years, she’d come along to cheer him on during his testing only to test for the General Studies course herself. 

They both got in but she declined due to...well...

Schools were meant to have color, to have fun, to encourage children to get along and be the best they could be and to be the best they could be while bringing each other up at the same time. U.A. always gave her a clinical vibe and while Shouto told her that the other students often had team-ups, study groups, and whatnot, there was still a level of competition that seemed a bit too Battle Royale for her taste.

Then again, maybe the fact that she watched her brother completely over-freeze the stadium in his first Sports Festival had something to do with it.

Fuyumi sucked in a breath and approached the gate that only students and staff could pass through and looked up towards the camera at the probable security guard. “Excuse me? I’m Fuyumi Todoroki. I have a meeting with Aizawa-sensei?”

A panel opened up and she jumped at the abruptness of it’s movements and then the awkwardly loud voice coming over the speaker. “Put your hand to the screen.” She did as such, watching as it scanned her finger prints, “Please remove your glasses and look into the camera above the screen.” She obeyed, leaning forward and feeling goofy as she tried not to blink during the quick retinal scan. “Thank you, Ms. Todoroki, please take your visitor badge and map to Aizawa-sensei’s office.”

She fumbled a bit, taking the badge and clipping it to her blouse collar since she had nowhere else to visibly put it and then accepted the map with a quick thank you and made her way to the large, H shaped building. 

It looked too corporate to be full of children .

It didn’t help that Fuyumi was just coming from work where she spent a day encouraging kids to color and have fun. She was in the business of helping create happy, well rounded children who didn’t have to think twice about the Hero Society if they didn’t want to. Not when they can talk about puppies and fairy tales. 

But that also meant she felt terribly underdressed in her jeans and blouse. It was a surprisingly warm fall day (the past few days had been extremely cold so this warm front was a welcome surprise) so she didn’t bring a cardigan but her work bag hung off her shoulder and she gripped it tightly as she entered the main campus building and turned right as the map advised.

After some time of walking, she found herself a bit lost and she felt relief when she saw two boys about Shouto’s age walking down the hallway, “Excuse me!” She called out to them while approaching them, “I’m sorry but I can’t seem to find this room…” She pointed to the map, “I have a meeting with Aizawa-sensei of class 1-A.”

Both boys were tall and certainly looked like they belonged at U.A. in the sense that they seemed fit and imposing. The boy with unruly purple hair bent down slightly to look at the map and shook his head a bit, “They gave you bad directions,” He told Fuyumi, “Aizawa-sensei’s not even in that room half the time.”

“It’s not their fault, Shinsou, these maps are based off of time blocks and Aizawa-sensei simply doesn’t follow his own schedule!” The other boy, broad with a neat haircut and glasses scolded.

“Are you actually speaking negatively about your teacher, class president?” The boy, Shinsou, asked.

The other boy sputtered and straightened up immediately, “You’re not in our class yet, Shinsou, so I’ll just warn you now that if you think-” Fuyumi cleared her throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be late for my meeting.”

Shinsou gave her a smile, looking more pleased at the red color of his soon-to-be classmate’s face than anything, “We can show you,” He assured in a soft, kind tone that Fuyumi would associate with a Hero student - good thing this boy either was one or was going to be one.

They started leading her back towards the way she came and Shinsou opted to break the silence, “So why are you meeting with Aizawa-sensei?” “Shinsou, don’t be nosey!”

“I’m Shouto Todoroki’s sister,” Fuyumi introduced herself, “I wanted to talk to him about something Shouto said to me the other day.”

The other boy looked surprised and then a little flustered, “My apologies, I didn’t know Todoroki had a sister!” He all but exclaimed before stopping to properly and politely greet her, “I’m Tenya Iida. Todoroki and I are friends and classmates!”

Fuyumi smiled, “It’s nice to meet you, Iida.” She replied kindly, biting back the feeling of disappointment that Shouto didn’t speak about home to the point that no one knew he had an older sister. Did he talk about Natsuo? Or did he just not mention her? “He seems so much happier since making friends at U.A. so thank you!”

Iida seemed more flustered at that, his face a bit red and a small, pleased smile on his face, “O-Of course! I appreciate his friendship!” He announced robotically, “This way please!” 

Shinsou rolled his eyes behind Iida’s back, offering Fuyumi an amused little smile as the Class President led the way outside and towards some buildings just past the main campus.and towards a series of brick buildings. They walked towards one of the buildings and Iida opened the door before looking at Shinsou.

“...I suppose you can come in.”

“Gee, thanks.”

They made their way in, Shinsou taking off in a different direction after a quiet ‘nice to meet you’ to Fuyumi and she heard a chorus of delighted ‘Shinsou!’ coming from what she assumed was the common area. Iida led her to a room just off the entrance and knocked on the door politely.

“Aizawa-sensei! You have a visitor! She says you have an appointment!”

There was a noise like something had fallen and then fumbling behind the door before it was yanked open to reveal the sight of Shouto’s extremely disheveled teacher. His gaze flickered from Iida, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, then to Fuyumi and then back before he let out a long, drawn out sigh.

“Thank you, Iida.” He dismissed, “Ms. Todoroki, please, come in…...don’t mind the mess.”

Fuyumi looked at Iida, giving a slight bow, “Thank you for your help.” She offered him a kind smile.

The pink seemed to return to his face as he bowed back awkwardly and (loudly) assured her that it was his pleasure before robotically turning around and rushing away as quickly as he could without actually running. Fuyumi gave a confused little hum, wondering if Shouto’s friends were all this...odd...and turned her attention back to Aizawa, who was attempting to look like he was tidying his office by pushing papers back and forth.

There was a chair in the corner, the office designed more for him to work than for him to meet with anyone and Fuyumi awkwardly decided to close the door behind her and sit on the edge of her chair, her bag neatly by her feet as she watched Aizawa seem to gather his thoughts as he shuffled through all of his papers and tried to make himself less disheveled. 

“Should I come back later?” Fuyumi asked tentatively.

He looked up at her suddenly and she flinched at his sharp expression but he immediately softened upon seeing her reaction, “No, no, I’m sorry about keeping you waiting, Ms. Todoroki.” He sighed heavily and found what he was looking for, a post-it note with near intelligible writing. “I’m surprised you asked to speak to me and not your father-”

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” Fuyumi interjected, “I...He feels Shouto’s focus should be more on his schoolwork and his goal of becoming a Hero.” “Whose goal?”

“Pardon?” Fuyumi asked, her face growing a bit warm as Aizawa studied her intently before leaning back in his chair.

“You wrote to me because you were concerned about your brother’s being able to wrap up your injured hand?” Aizawa asked and Fuyumi flinched at his words, tugging her sleeves a bit over her bandaged hands as she’d split them once again due to Quirk overuse (she didn’t expect such a brawl last night) and this time had to look up a YouTube tutorial to effectively wrap them. “You realize dressing minor wounds is something every hero should know, Ms. Todoroki, so I’m curious to know why you’re actually here.”

“O-Oh, well, I…”

She should have known he would have picked up on her weak excuse immediately.

“As I said, my father is more concerned with Shouto’s educational and professional successes,” She started slowly, “And...I’ve been watching Shouto since he started at U.A. and while I am concerned about the fact that your students are regularly bandaging each other up, I’m thankful for how he’s doing socially. I was worried about him when he first started but he’s really opened up.”

Aizawa hummed and ran a hand through his messy hair, “If it’s any consolation, it’s usually just one particular student that needs the bandaging up.”

“It’s not.”

“Understandable.” 

Fuyumi shifted, “I know my father wants Shouto at U.A. and I know Shouto wants to be at U.A. but...can you let me know what your students go through so I can just have...peace of mind?” She plead. “I’m just…”

“Worried now that your father is Number One Hero and with past attacks on U.A. that Shouto may not be in the safest place?” Aizawa guessed.

Fuyumi flinched and nodded slowly, “The world is getting scarier and I can’t really voice my concerns to anyone but...I just want to make sure my youngest brother is safe.”

Aizawa hummed, crossing one leg over the other as he studied her silently and she squirmed in her seat, suddenly realizing that this was probably a terrible idea. He was a Pro Hero who could probably and would probably see right through her. She’d already seen him glance at her bandaged hands, his questions were probing but not enough to stir up any real suspicion. She worried for the students’ mental health but she worried that her appearance would completely derail the conversation and that Aizawa would figure her out. 

Maybe he already knew she was playing vigilante and getting into fights. Maybe he heard about the bar fight and put one and two together. Afterall - her brother had half an Ice Quirk, it was fully possible he had a sibling with an Ice Quirk, right? She’d been sloppy. She’d been careless. She was sitting here in front of a Pro Hero, covered in bandages and trying to keep cool.

He was on to her and she was playing right into it.

“I’ve gotten quite a few comments from concerned parents about exactly this subject,” Aizawa replied, pulling Fuyumi from her panic, “Even though they agreed to the dorm system, the news reports start sinking in as does the battle your father went through with the High-End Noumu and they need to be sure they’re making the right decision for their children to be here.” She felt the tension leave her shoulders at his words and she looked down at her hands, glad she was apparently wrong about him seeing right through her and readjusting her bandages a bit. 

Aizawa shuffled through his paperwork and slid out a form, offering it to Fuyumi, “This is their typical schedule. I hope you understand that I’ve had to mark out important information for the sake of security…”

“I understand,” Fuyumi replied softly, accepting the paper and reading over the page. The kids had a lot of practical lessons but it was good to say that the school was still teaching them relevant courses such as Math and Literature. “What about psychological wellness?” Fuyumi asked suddenly, “And offering the children options?”

“Options?” Aizawa asked, his demeanor a little more alert now.

“They’re children,” Fuyumi replied, “They can change their minds. Or, heaven forbid, they experience an injury in the field that could prevent them from continuing their Heroing careers. If you don’t give them options such as a secondary career focus, they’re going to start at square one when everyone else their age is far ahead of them.” Aizawa raised an eyebrow at her and she immediately felt herself clam up, quickly putting the paper back on his desk and staring down at her hands, flexing her fingers carefully, “I-I-I’m sorry. I didn’t...I shouldn’t be...I’m not one to tell you how to tell your job.”

Who did she think she was? Just acting like she could tell a Pro Hero how to teach children how to be Pro Heroes. It was shameful. 

“Ms. Todoroki, do you have a boyfriend?”

“E-E-Excuse me?”

Aizawa sighed heavily and rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’m always bad that this,” He muttered under his breath, “Ms. Todoroki, you’re... while I am Shouto’s teacher, if you need someone to talk to about,” His eyes glanced to her hands again, “Anything…”

Oh, he thought she had a...well, he wasn’t entirely far off but…

“I really appreciate your offer,” She assured, “But these are just from taking self-defense classes.”

He didn’t seem to believe her and she shifted awkwardly in her seat again, “I...thank you for your reassurances,” She announced, standing up and he followed suit. “Seeing that Shouto’s got such a strong support system at school is really helpful.”

“I didn’t exactly answer your question…” Aizawa drawled, moving to open the door for her - or keep it closed and keep her pinned in.

“It wasn’t my place to ask it,” Fuyumi replied quickly.

Aizawa continued to study her and she looked anywhere but his face, fidgeting with the bag in her hands. After a long moment, the Pro Hero sighed and pulled the door open, pushing it with his arm because the office was so cramped and allowing Fuyumi to duck under his arm and pass through the doorway.

She turned and gave a short, deep bow, “Thank you for listening to my concerns,” She told him, eager to get out of there now that she felt on edge.

He was on to her. He was on to her. Hewasontoher.

She wondered if she looked suspicious outside of the obvious injuries. Was she breathing too heavily? She certainly felt like it. Why was this building so hot? Weren’t the students uncomfortable? Wasn’t Aizawa? He was wearing what essentially seemed like a jogging suit, afterall. So why was she feeling so warm and no one else felt bothered?

“Thank you for expressing them,” Aizawa replied before his gaze shifted from her to down the hall, a scowl momentarily crossing his face.

Fuyumi followed his scowl, just barely seeing a handful of teenage faces dipping behind the corner. She huffed out a tiny laugh before looking at Aizawa again, feeling a little better now that the tension was broken by the teenagers. He looked at her, his annoyance with his students evident but she didn’t see any harm behind his expression - it was more of a tolerance than anything.

It was reassuring.

Shouto and his friends would be fine.

She bowed politely again, “Still, thank you.” 

Aizawa gave a short nod, “Of course. And like I said earlier…”

He didn’t continue with his response, probably because Fuyumi’s face was feeling hot and she certainly knew she’d either grown red in the face or had gone completely pale along with being tight lipped and looking anywhere but at him. Her whole body was tense at the idea that Shouto’s teacher was under the assumption that she was being...well...she wasn’t and she certainly didn’t want to talk about it.

“I appreciate it,” She replied, realizing afterwards that her tone was more clipped than she intended. 

“Fuyumi?” Fuyumi and Aizawa both turned to see Shouto standing at the end of the hallway, looking concerned for the most part as he glanced between the two of them. “Is everything okay?”

High near the ceiling, just by the corner was an ear.

“Oh, Shouto,” Fuyumi fumbled, trying to find the right thing to say so she wouldn’t mortify and embarrass her little brother in front of his friends and classmates. “We’re just…”

“I’m having progress checks with your parents and guardians,” Aizawa drawled, “When we established the dorm systems, we thought it would be a good idea to offer progress reports in the beginning so that we and your parents can be certain this is the right move for your progress and well being.” 

Shouto’s eyes flickered from Aizawa to Fuyumi and she offered a smile, more at ease now that Aizawa had established that it was okay to lie to her little brother, “I guess I must be the first one to get a progress check,” Added lightly with a little shrug.

Shouto didn’t seem impressed, “What about Father?”

She waved him off, “You know that he’s busy,” She replied, “Besides, I figured you’d prefer it if I came instead of him. I’ll tell him about the visit tonight.”

Shouto still continued to frown at her.

“Unless you want your sister to meet your friends, I think it’s for the best to let her go home,” Aizawa chimed in.

Shouto looked at Fuyumi, clearly internally debating if he wanted to introduce her to his class in such an impromptu manner and Fuyumi decided to spare him. “Maybe next time, I need to get home and get started on dinner.” She didn’t look at him out of fear that he may be relieved. That maybe the thought of her meeting his friends was something he’d never want or perhaps he feared she would say something to embarrass him. She bowed yet again to Aizawa, pushing that thought down, “Thank you again for your assurances.”

Aizawa nodded and gestured for Fuyumi to follow him. She glanced quickly back at Shouto, lifting a hand in farewell before leaving her youngest brother in the hall as she followed his teacher to the front door of the dorm building. She thought that Aizawa would simply hold the door open for her and shoo her out, so she was surprised when he joined her outside and closed the door behind him, walking in step with her as they descended the stairs to the front door.

God, what if he wanted to approach the source of her injuries again?

“My apologies for my students,” He commented, “To be truthful, your brother doesn’t speak about his home life so you’re a bit of a surprise for the class.”

“I hope it doesn’t cause trouble for Shouto,” Fuyumi sighed softly.

“He’ll be alright,” Aizawa assured.

Fuyumi gripped her bag tightly and kept her gaze on the sidewalk as they walked towards the entrance of the school grounds. She figured Aizawa was walking her partly because he wanted to apologize for his students’ curiosity and partly because letting someone loose on campus was a security risk. They could create a timeline of when Fuyumi arrived through the security check, but they had to make sure she actually left.

They walked in silence, stopping at the gate and Fuyumi was starting to feel silly at this point with how many times she was thanking Aizawa, but it would be rude not to. He didn’t seem to mind as his hands were tucked into his pockets and he gave her a look that was more exhausted than anything.

“Thank you again,” She said softly, “I hope our lie doesn’t cause more work for you.”

Aizawa shrugged, “It’s probably for the best if I allow parents this opportunity,” He replied. “They may provide feedback that is valuable. Thank you for your suggestion in regards to the mental health of the students as well as providing alternative opportunities.”

Fuyumi shifted her hold on her bag, feeling sheepish that he’d actually taken her suggestion into account, “Well, I…” She looked at him quickly and looked away again, “I teach young children and I always want to make sure that they’re set up to grow into the best they can be. I had a feeling you would understand.”

Aizawa seemed honestly surprised by that, his brows raising as his head tilted just enough to indicate his interested, “You’re a teacher as well?” He asked.

“Just elementary,” Fuyumi replied with a soft laugh. “It’s a much different atmosphere than high school.”

“Debatable.”

Fuyumi couldn’t control the tiny laugh that escaped her as Aizawa kept his poker face. They bade each other farewell and Fuyumi walked through the gate, stopping to return her visitor’s badge to the security console before making her way home with the mental plan to make dinner for herself and her father, take care of preparing for class the next day, and see if she could check out any of the leads from the night before.

She knew she couldn’t scope out the exact area that the gang had told her purely because she’d overheard her father talking on the phone about the bar brawl and if they gave her that information so easily then they definitely spilled the beans for Endeavor. The area was going to be watched by heroes for a fair amount of time and it was just not a good idea to be caught anywhere near the area.

However, if the area was flooded with Heroes, then anyone in a more unsavory lifestyle was going to evacuate the premises. If she investigated just outside the radius of Hero patrol, there was a chance she could get another lead at the very least. 

She just had to get to Touya and everything would turn out fine.

[dabiapologist]

[My Hero Academia Fanfiction]: Fever Dream, Chapter 2

Pairing: Dabihawks, hawksdabi, hotwings, spicywings

Characters: Dabi (My Hero Academia), Hawks (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko, Toga Himiko

Rated T

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter 2/3(?)

Tags: i've always wanted to write a sick fic, Don't Judge Me, Sick Fic, Fluff, bratty dabi is my favorite dabi, chock full of cliched tropes, and im not sorry, tfw you catch feelings for your annoying villain liaison

Summary:

"Endeavor-san? Quick question."

"What is it? I'm busy right now."

"How do you know if you're sick?"

"...excuse me?"

"Like, how do you know if you're running a fever? Do you even get fevers?"

"Why?"

"Uh, um, just curious?"

On the other end, he hears Endeavor sigh in annoyance. "Of all the things, Hawks, Why would you be curious about that?"

"Well," Hawks chews his lip anxiously as he turns to look back over his shoulder, back at the sizzling bundle of blankets on his couch.

Sizzling.

Oh. That's probably not a good sign.

// Chapter 1: In Good Conscience // 

Read it on || AO3

                                                Chapter 2: Sick Day

It is way too quiet right now.

That is Hawks’ first conscious thought when he wakes up. The fact that he even managed to squirrel away a few hours of uninterrupted rest is already worrying in and of itself, though he’s not ungrateful for it. It’s been ages since he got a good night’s rest. Or any rest, for that matter.

Hawks’ eyes crack open and he bolts upright in bed, fully awake and immediately on his guard, still wearing his hero costume and even his boots. Though at the moment, he is glad for that, as the double doors that lead out to his balcony are still propped open, allowing the freezing morning air to filter in unencumbered into his bedroom.

He walks over and gently closes them, shivering when one final draft enters through the tiny slit in the door before he brings them together.

And now, with the doors closed tight and the noise of the city traffic below effectively blocked out and silenced, the silence throughout Hawks’ apartment is even more pronounced. And eerie.

Knowing who is sleeping just over in the next room, Hawks wasn’t sure what to expect come morning, but it definitely wasn’t this unnerving quiet.

“He’s probably still out cold,” Hawks jokes to himself, somewhat anxiously. Fuck. Thinking back on it, he did headbutt Dabi kind of hard. And for all of his attitude and apathy and hair-trigger pyromania, Dabi really isn’t all that hardy of a person, physically speaking.

Hawks makes a worried noise as he feels the small but painful bump on his own forehead. Crap. Hope I didn’t give him a concussion.

He quickly sheds his hero costume, still somewhat damp and vaguely weird-smelling from the heavy rains last night and changes into a long sleeved thermal shirt and sweats. He lets out a pleased sound as he feels some warmth immediately start to seep back into his frame.

“I wonder if he’s really still out,” He wonders out loud as he leaves the room, cracking a grin,“I bet I could just lay on him for a few minutes and not be cold anymore.”

He promptly shuts up, however, when he sees that the door to his guest bedroom is cracked open slightly. Last night was a blur, for sure, but Hawks is certain that he did close the door after depositing Dabi’s lifeless husk onto the bed and tossing a bunch of blankets over him. He looks down the hall, to the bathroom. The door is open and the light is off. He’s not there, either.

Hawks turns his attention back to the guest room, listening for any sign of the villain. Nothing.  

“Dabi?” He whispers into the thin crack in the door, “You up?”

His voice rises an octave. “You alive?”

No answer.  

“Yo!” He calls a bit louder, gently pushing the door open with a finger. “Dabi, are y- uh…”

Nervous quickly turns to annoyed. “...What the fresh fuck…” Hawks scoffs as he takes in the state of the room. The lamp and nightstand are both overturned on the floor, and the glass of water and medicine he had so kindly set out for Dabi are also on the floor, though thankfully at least the medicine is still capped and unopened. One of the fancy carved spires of the headboard has been somehow knocked clean off and is sitting next to his foot. How the hell Dabi even managed to do that, or why, is beyond Hawks. 

Also, and most notably, there is a giant burn spot in the middle of his very nice, very expensive guest mattress. Hawks’ eye starts to twitch. That mattress was almost a hundred and twenty-five thousand yen.

But amidst the surprisingly not on fire wreckage that was once his expertly decorated guest room, Dabi himself is nowhere to be found. And for that matter, neither is any of Hawks’ bedding.

Hawks blinks once. Twice.

“Did this motherfucker really just make off with all my blankets?”He asks himself, shaking his head, trying to wrap his brain around the idea, and failing. Unbelievable. “What a dick. This is what I get for trying to be nice. ”

He grumbles loudly, combing his fingers through his hair as he leaves the room. Well, Dabi was never one to show any type of consideration or respect for anyone, let alone any understanding of basic social etiquette. Hawks supposes he really shouldn’t be surprised, in that respect. It’s not like Dabi would suddenly become a considerate person just because he was sick.

But still. Did he really have to run off with all of Hawks’ extra sheets? Where the hell would he even put any of it?

Actually, he takes it back. He’s seen the state of Dabi’s so called apartment building. It’s basically condemned, and barely has power. Yeah, he figures, Dabi probably needs all those extra sheets way more than he does.

Feeling a headache coming on, Hawks decides to wash his hands of the whole situation. Dabi’s gone, so it’s no longer his concern. “Whatever, I tried. I guess it’s not my problem anymore, then.” He mutters to himself.  

He stops in the bathroom and goes about his morning routine, pushing all thought of the night before from his mind, instead focusing on what he’s going to busy himself with today. His days off are few and very, very, very far between, by his design mostly, and only really happen when his sidekicks gang up on him and bully him into taking a day off before he burns out.

He knows deep down that they’re right, but fuck. That doesn’t make it any less boring.

With a wide yawn, he leaves the bathroom, scratching under his shirt as he ambles towards the kitchen. “I guess I could just get some takeout, and catch up on that sh-fwwwahh!”

Thankfully, he lives alone, so there is no one around to hear the loud, undignified squawk Hawks lets out when he trips over something on the floor and falls face-first onto the carpeted floor.

God, if his sidekicks could’ve seen that.

Hawks knows he isn’t the most graceful creature in the morning, but he’s not messy either. Wondering just what the hell it was he tripped over, he sits up on his knees and looks back.

A black boot.

A very familiar black boot.

“Uh…”

Hawks rises to his feet, still staring down at it, puzzled. “He left without one of his shoes. Okay.”

Now mulling that over, unsure of whether he’s amused by it or not, Hawks continues on his way to the kitchen.

And it’s not long before he stumbles across the other boot. The other boot, plus Dabi’s overcoat and belt, seem to make a beeline across his carpet, past the kitchen into the living room.

Feeling a distinct heaviness beginning to weigh in his belly, Hawks pads curiously along the fabric trail, following the haphazardly discarded garments out into his living room. There he finds Dabi’s pants, sitting on the steps that lead down to the entertainment room.

Hawks’ eyebrows rise at that.

“He’s not wearing pants…?” Hawks asks aloud, hands on his hips. What the actual fuck is happening right now?

He never took Dabi for that kind of guy, yet here he is, staring down at Dabi’s dingy and ill-fitting pants, lying in a heap on the floor. Curiously, he toes at them, and Dabi’s box of cigarettes slides out of one of the pockets. The burner phone he uses to contact Hawks is already sitting some feet away, face down and probably cracked.

The window shades are all down, casting a somber but peaceful grey over the room, and, Hawks notices, the TV is on but both dimmed to the darkest setting and the volume is very low.

“Huh.”

He walks over and tugs on one of the shades, allowing some sunlight into the room.

“Close it,” A new, albeit familiar voice suddenly groans from somewhere behind him, nearly startling Hawks out of his own skin. Hawks could slap himself. He really needs his morning red bull, he thinks, because this is just shameful. Even with his quirk, he didn’t feel another presence in the room. He either needs an energy drink or he needs to go back to sleep for another twelve hours.

Slowly pulling the shade back down, Hawks chances a glance over his shoulder, looking in the direction of the couch. He already has a feeling he knows what he’s going to find. And sure enough, tucked in the L of the couch, with all of Hawks’ missing bedding piled on top of him in a giant nest of fabric, is Dabi. Although at the moment, the only way Hawks knows that it’s Dabi is by his voice, albeit much lower and more hoarse than normal, and by the familiar shock of black hair poking out from the bottom of the mound. The visible portion of his face is partially burrowed into one of the couch throw pillows. Hawks can just make out one bleary blue eye, glaring at him.  

“Close it,” Dabi mumbles again.

“I did.”

“Close it!”

“I di-- It is closed!” Hawks says loudly, pointedly motioning to the closed shade. But Dabi is already groaning exaggeratedly as he rolls over under his blanket pile, facing his back to Hawks and curling more into himself.

Hawks exhales loudly.

Oh, boy.

Briefly taking in the scene, if it were anyone else... it could almost be called cute. Like a little kid staying home from school, Dabi is all bundled up and watching infomercials on TV until the good stuff comes on. All he needs is a bowl of soup and a nice, nerdy set of pajamas.

There is a faint sense of nostalgia in it, too. Hawks used to do the same thing when he was small. Hell, he still does it now, as an adult, on those rare instances where the planets align perfectly and he allows himself to acknowledge that he’s feeling under the weather.

Although to be honest, he’s not exactly sure how he feels about having that in common with Dabi, of all people. They’re more alike than he is comfortable admitting; pushing through whatever is in their path, stubbornly trudging forward until they either overcome it by sheer willpower alone or they are overtaken by it. They’re a lot alike, he discovers more and more everyday, and it irks him.

Still, despite his feelings towards the other man, there is a weird sort of… something, to it, seeing a more vulnerable side of Mr. Big Bad Blue Fire, something that Hawks can’t quite put into words. But it’s intriguing; the man behind the villain, demystified somewhat. Under the scars and the smug attitude and flames, Dabi is still a human being, he supposes.

A human being that is still simpering and whining, even though the fucking shade is down.  

Risking Dabi’s temper in this unpredictable state, he walks over and clambers up onto the couch too, perching himself on the back of the couch with his wings draped neatly behind him.

He stares down at Dabi for a beat, shaking his head before saying, “You’re not looking too hot there, cupcake,” as he brings his legs up to his chest, balancing perfectly on the back of the couch.

He waits for a second. And then another, and then another. A full minute passes with no movement.

Hawks frowns.

Oof. No reaction to the ‘cupcake’. At all. Dabi hates nicknames, especially the purposely cutesy and condescending ones Hawks likes to give him when he feels like picking a fight. And right now, he is most definitely picking a fight, if only to get Dabi out of whatever sickness haze he’s in and to start acting more like himself.

Then at least Hawks would feel a little better, knowing it’s not really anything serious.

But Dabi doesn’t even move, let alone do what Hawks was fully hoping he’d do, which was jump up from the couch in a huffy ball of blue fire and expletives, challenging him to call him that again.

That’s not good.

They remain like that for a long while; Dabi lying down, possibly asleep, and Hawks staring down at him while twiddling his thumbs, wondering where the hell he goes from here.

He has a sick villain in his apartment. A sick, very dangerous, very wanted villain. A high-ranking member of the organization in which it is his mission to infiltrate and bring down from the inside.

Hawks cradles his head in hand, unpacking all of that in his mind. Yeah, there is a slight chance that, maybe, he did not think this through quite as much as he should have.

“I’m gonna go make some coffee,” He says out loud, more to himself than to Dabi, who he is sure probably didn’t even hear him. He doesn't even really like coffee, but he just needs something pointless and mechanical to focus on for a few minutes, so he can sort this ordeal out in his head.

This is fine, he thinks as he rips open the package of coffee grounds, this is okay. So far, it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna make a scene or anything. Hopefully, he’ll just lie on the couch all day in a borderline coma, and if he’s conscious by tonight, I can maybe sneak him out. Of course, I'll need to blindfold him or something, so he doesn’t know where I live… fuck. I didn’t even think of that.

Hawks freezes, mid-scoop. How the hell had that not occurred to him before? That bringing Dabi up to his apartment would mean letting the villain know where he lived, giving him and the League an extra advantage over him?

Last night he had been so focused on not leaving Dabi half-dead on the street, that he didn’t think of the consequences his little act of kindness could bring for him in the immediate future. And just now, he had been so focused on finding Dabi that he didn't realize that the other man trashing his guest room and passing out on his couch instead was actually the best possible case scenario he could have hoped for in this situation. The last thing he needs, he realizes in a cold sweat, is Dabi, whose face is extremely recognizable, wandering around his apartment building, deliriously sick and liable to cause all sorts of mayhem.  

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” He chants to himself. But what if he was up at night when I was asleep, checking out the surroundings? He continues setting the coffee maker to boil.

Hawks looks back over his shoulder, out over the island and into the living room, where the top of Dabi’s blanket mound is just barely visible.

Then again, he’s so out of it right now, and was last night, too. I mean, I can’t imagine another reason he’d trash the guest room, other than he woke up and was disoriented and freaked out.

“Nah, he couldn't have. Not in his condition.”

He barely made it to the living room, let alone outside or to the windows. Surveillance is the last thing on his mind, right now. Hawks stares at the coffee as it drip, drip, drips down into the coffee pot, condensation beginning to form on the outside from the heat. It’s weirdly calming.

Hawks sighs to himself.

Well, I guess it’s too late to worry about that now. What’s done is done. For now, I just have to figure out how to work this situation to my advantage.

Hawks ceases his mental calculating when he feels a certain vibration ripple through his smaller feathers, along with the near silent rustle of fabric along the kitchen's tiles behind him. At least this time, Dabi doesn’t surprise him. Although, he has to admit, how Dabi manages to move so quietly even while sick to point of delirium is quite impressive.

“Is it ready yet?” He hears the other man ask over his shoulder.

“You were awake?”

“Mmn. Barely.”

Hawks turns, and almost can’t believe his eyes.

Wow.

Dabi, to be blunt, looks like a straight up corpse that was freshly rolled out of a grave. His eyes are glassy and squinted somewhat, sensitive to the light in the kitchen, and his skin, the parts that aren’t scarred and unhealthy, are so pale he looks almost otherworldly. Save for his nose, which is a little pink around the nostrils. And, just like last night, he still seems unsteady on his feet; there is a noticeable side to side sway as Dabi stands there, eyes unfocused.

Still, Hawks can’t fight the smile that is creeping onto his face. When he first met Dabi, never did he imagine that one day in the near future, that same smug, lying bastard face would be in his kitchen, staring back at him while cocooned in what Hawks is sure is no less than ten different blankets and bed sheets. Currently, the entire bottom half of Dabi’s face is covered, allowing Hawks to only really see him from the nose up.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.”

Hawks snorts to himself as he turns back to the coffee pot, shutting it off after it chimes. “I didn’t even think you got cold.”

“When I’m sick, I do.” Dabi says, without much fanfare. Huh. It’s a little unnerving, Dabi giving straight answers, for once. He’s certainly being a lot more forthcoming than last night, that’s for sure.

Ah, the straightforwardness that comes with realization and the cessation of denial.

“Is it ready?” Dabi asks, already reaching for the coffee pot.

“Yeah, it’s rea- Hey! What the fuck are you doing, you lunatic?!”

Hawks quickly but carefully wrestles the still scalding hot coffee pot out of Dabi’s bare hands, managing to catch him just seconds before he upends the open pot over his face and into his mouth.

“I’m cold,” Dabi moans, glaring at him. Hawks glares back in disbelief.

“Okay, can I put the shit in a cup first? God!” Still holding the coffee pot tightly by the handle, Hawks shoves past Dabi to get to the cupboard and pulls out two mugs.

“This ain’t Game of Thrones, you fucking jackass,” Hawks snaps as he pours the coffee out into the mugs, “You're not a dragon. And you don't need anymore third degree burns.”

Dabi mumbles something rude but thankfully unintelligible as he lumbers closer, still keeping a tight grip on the blankets around him.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” He mutters as he bumps Hawks out of his way, “Move. I want coffee.”

He swipes one of the mugs before Hawks can even protest --that was his mug-- and does exactly what he had intended to do before: he chugs the piping hot liquid so fast he upends the mug over his face, eyes rolling shut blissfully. He doesn’t even stop to breathe.

Hawks watches the scene with saucer-wide eyes, and silently accepts the empty mug back when Dabi hands it to him some ten odd seconds later, a sated little grin on his face.

“I… stand corrected…” Hawks says in shock. Did he even feel that? Hawks has so many questions. But right now, he only settles for a few. “You good now?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Are you still cold?”

“M’no.”

Hawks slowly raises a finger and points over to the couch. “Will you go back to sleep now?”

Dabi follows his finger. “Mm-hm,” He mumbles before he abruptly turns and ambles out of the kitchen. Hawks watches him go, not quite believing how easy of an interaction that was. Dabi and easy are two words that don’t belong in the same sentence. Ever.

He watches him go until he sees Dabi tumble face first down onto the couch. Hawks listens for a few seconds, to the rustle of sheets and blankets and Dabi’s little muttered curses as he makes himself comfortable in his blanket nest again.

When he finally settles down, Hawks lets out a loud exhale, allowing himself to take a sip of his now warm coffee.

He doesn’t like coffee all that much, but still, he already recognizes this as a rare moment of peace; one of the few, if any, he’s going to get today, so he takes advantage of it.

Halfway through the cup, he hears Dabi groaning from the living room and rolls his eyes. Rare, and so very, very brief.

He sets the cup down on the counter loudly.

What now?  

That, he realizes as he walks out the living room, is not a question he really wanted an answer to.

[hurrycat]

Intro

I have been thinking about into for quite awhile. I began this project from the end to the start and I ended up (with the beginning) where I had to put together several unconnected pieces of cartoons together. And I came up with an idea of presenting each animation as a TV program (as well because the full name of my course is film and broadcast).  Every cartoon has an eerie view on the daily things and was inspired by the British pop art culture, however in fact, the pandemic itself. 

“The number of adults experiencing some form of depression in Great Britain has doubled during the COVID-19 pandemic. The ONS analysis based on representative survey of 3,527 adults in Great Britain, found that the proportion of people reporting moderate to severe depressive symptoms increased from 9.7% between July 2019 and March 2020 to 19.2% in June 2020. 12.9% of adults said their moderate to severe depressive symptoms developed during the pandemic, 6.2% said this was a continuation of depressive symptoms from before. Almost 85% of adults who reported experiencing some form of depression said their wellbeing was being affected by feeling stressed or anxious because of the pandemic and more than 42% of adults said their relationships were being affected” (Vizard, 2020).

Isolation and uncertainty certainly make everyone feel overwhelmed, concentrated on previously not to relevant and noticeable things and generally support a more pessimistic view on the future. People realised their mortality and in fact we haven't gone too far from the 15th century. Death is still looking for us behind every corner. Everyone is thinking about global things these days, everyone is reevaluating their lives, getting rid of wasteful and exhausting elements. And this is the main focus of my animations. I wanted to summarise it in a short intro which would explain everything that will follow.

The feeling of disconnection I personally associate with tripping on drugs. Especially recreational drugs, mainly acids. They make its users feel detached from reality and at the same time build a strong connection with something deep and intangible. With the world’s true sense. It allows to reach the meaning through loosing it. Same effected can be gained through meditation. Even though those two sometimes come together, either for achieving a brighter effect, like for example during Temazcal ceremony:

“During a ceremony, participants will enter a sweat lodge (typically an igloo-shaped hut) constructed from volcanic stone, wood or cement. Once inside, hot volcanic rocks are placed in the center, and water is poured over the rocks to produce steam. Herbs, typically sage or copal, are added to aid the cleansing process. While every ritual is different, ceremonies can last around two hours which might include a shaman-led series of thanksgiving or chanting” (Murray, 2019).

Or to help with addiction. In my intro I strongly wanted to intertwine those two. I have also thought of including the essential importance of nature. Thus I went to Richmond park and was filming myself wandering around. Later I colour graded the video and added many effects to make it look horrifying and acidish. To achieve the effect of LSD trip. Something similar to what was created by Argentinian director Gaspard Noe in his film Enter The Void. 

The idea for the film had been growing since Noé's adolescence, when he first became interested in matters of death and existence. In his early twenties—while under influence of psilocybin mushrooms—he saw Robert Montgomery's Lady in the Lake, a 1947 film shot entirely in a first-person perspective. He then decided that if he ever made a film about the afterlife, that was the way it would be filmed. Noé had tried various hallucinogens in his youth, and used those experiences as inspiration for the visual style. Later, when the director was already planning the film, he tried the psychoactive brew ayahuasca, in which the active substance is DMT. This was done in the Peruvian jungle, where the brew is legal due to its traditional use as an entheogen. Noé described the experience as very intense, and said he regarded it "almost like professional research." Since few on the design team ever had taken a hallucinogen, it was necessary for Noé to collect and provide visual references in the forms of paintings, photographs, music videos, and excerpts from films. One reference used was the works of biologist Ernst Haeckel, whose drawings influenced the organic patterns seen during Oscar's visions. Another important stylistic influence was the experimental oeuvre of Kenneth Anger, and in particular Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome. Noé saw Anger's films in the early 1990s, while promoting the short film Carne, and quickly became a fan. Other influences from experimental cinema included the works of Jordan Belson and Peter Tscherkassky. Noé's favourite film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, was the most prominent influence among mainstream films; Noé wanted to become a filmmaker after he saw it at the age of seven. Brian De Palma's Snake Eyes and other films which feature hovering overhead shots inspired Noé to make a film largely from such a perspective. 

Of course I don't do drugs, especially psychedelics, thus I was fully relied on my friend’s experiences and Enter The Void. One of them said that he “Could see what was behind”. 

I was searching many different mediation practices and focused in particular on Sufi whirling. Sufi whirling is a meditative technique that involves whirling your own axis for a long time (usually from half an hour to several hours). The technique got its name from the Mevlevi Sufi order, founded by the Persian Sufi poet Jalaladdin Rumi, in which whirling was a private ritual of worshiping God and symbolised unity with them. Sufis whirled around in heavy skirts, which are necessary to stabilise the rotation and maintain its high speed. Among people who practice meditation, whirling is unofficially considered "royal meditation." 

By practicing this, I have covered the ideas of feeling disconnected with the reality. Being closer to the true sense and the kings, the government, on who we all now rely more than ever.