Options. Answered. - Tumblr Posts

@madestars​ asked; 🎄+ 💋 a smooch to izuku from kohaku too hehe

►  ❪  MISTLETOE  //  not accepting  ❫

        Festive auras enveloped the village. Unsurprising given the time of year, midwinter, which oft called for seasonal celebrations from grandiose yule balls to the prayers of hunters and farmers alike ushering in a bountiful harvest when warm winds returned. Some he knows of, some he doesn't. Traditions nestled within the sanctuary home to warriors and dragons alike didn't always extend to the world beyond the tribes borders and vice versa. Izuku's unsure what to make of this one tossed onto his lap out of the blue.

        ❝ You have to what ? ❞  Head snapped up, verdant eyes widened to a near comical degree, zeroed in on the mistletoe. He's becoming well acquainted with the crack in his voice, deadpan and startled nerves warring for the center of the stage, ending up a strange amalgamation of the two.

        That plant. That damn plant. Chrome, the damn traitor, had failed to breathe a word of what he was about to walk into, simply waved him off with a too mischievous grin that raised the hackles of suspicion.

        Nothing seemed amiss at first, wary gaze picking up nothing lurking in the shadows or perched from on high to catch a paladin in training off guard. Slowly, stringent muscles eased from the preparation of countermeasures when a threat failed to phase into existence. Misgivings faded from the mind and he found himself immersed in the community's raised energy, village a welcoming reprieve. But now... now he's paying the price for walking unawares.

        It's a little sudden as per usual, Kohaku pouncing from some unseen hiding space, taking advantage of a brief interlude when his blind spot shifted. He'd take a moment to commend the impressive display of stealth from the young woman  ( doubly so considering frigid weather, sheets of white coating the land, the hardships seamlessly blending in entailed )  if not for the proclamation. Grant a kiss to the one who stands underneath winter's love lest you face it's wrath. Simple words, a magic-less spell welding the soles of his boots firmly in place. That... What ?  What was she talking about out of nowhere ??

        And then, and then... she pointed up. Izuku, helpless, could only follow it, leading to the current predicament. Kohaku, his friend, smiling and expectant. Him, a classic disaster. He felt like choking on air. Maybe then it'd cure his luck of consistently bumbling into situations like these.

        Scarred hand shifted from the pommel of his blade, readjusting the collar of his snow flecked cloak, burning freckled cheeks sinking into the fur. It's all a tease, course he knew that, but still. Intimate gestures largely absent from his life thus far, doling out kisses were at the bottom of his itinerary. Thinking about it alone never failed to wrack nerves, heart building momentum inside of the chest and damning heat rising to his face.

        Why on earth did an unassuming sprig demand this kind of task ?  To think such rules existed. What the fuck. They said if you shot a mistletoe out of a tree and caught it in your left hand you were bestowed luck, but that's as far as it went for him. Notions of revering it as a sacred herb of vitality or love like some did never applied. The threat of accidentally being killed with mistletoe stuck out far more poignantly. Where did such a phrase inspiring this custom stem from ?  Nothing said uplifting cheer like a parasitic, poisonous plant. Grounding the white berries made for an effective trap against birds though, an efficient and cost effective adhesive.... ❞

        Mumbled chatter cut off, the stream of thoughts unknowingly converted to aloud musings stymied. The anxious energy that'd been flowing at a fixed rate inside of him was starting to take hold, forcing him to ramble like this.

        Ah ha, but the ramblings of the previous encounter when she mentioned knighthood bore fruit. He's prepared with preset rationale this time !  A peck to the back of the hand, nice and easy, with the additional bonus of the likelihood of his heart imploding minimized by a significant margin. Foolproof hopefully.

        ❝ A-Alright. ❞  Features scrunched, the warrior patted his cheeks  ( no success in warding off the heavy blush / lively tint content to remain stained upon tan skin )  and fists clenched in determination. He's got this. A new  ( sinister / taunting )  light almost radiated off the mistletoe as his gaze wandered back to it.  ❝ Since i-it's one of your traditions and...and...eh ? ❞

        A noise of surprise tumbled out, but by then she's already leapt back to her original position with a laugh. Again, Kohaku beat him to the punch.

        ❝ Kohaku !!  What the- I- you- ❞  Hands flailed a bit, one shakily brushing against where she kissed his cheek  ( affection singes the spot / a warmth that swells / a reminder of how much has changed since deku strayed beyond the prickly walls of his tribe )  before slowly rising, smothering as much of his head as possible, face steaming as the body rotated a full 180 degrees, back towards his friend. So much for that. His strategy went up in smoke.  ❝ W-Wasn't I supposed to- ?? ❞

@madestars​ asked; “Don’t touch it, please! It hurts.” ( natboom uwu )

►  ❪  BLOOD AND BRUISES  //  accepting  ❫

        Face value demeanor dictated shockingly little, and the lax, blithe nature Boomer exuded spoke little of how he viewed others in reality. Honestly, the business of friendship wasn't normally his thing. Too many attachments, too many boring weaklings who found stomaching a simple joke or a decent hit too much to bear. Minimal amusement / scant stimulation, not enough to justify interaction. Sunlit company broke the typical mold and held unsteady interest. A pleasant surprise, but he'd say, in this case at least, he's doing a pretty swell job. The city may as well give him a reward for being a top-tier companion.

        So then, how did he miss this ?

        For a guy who can see through walls, it's downright insulting laughable. Either Natalie's better at concealment than first assumed or Boomer's inattentiveness extended to a greater degree than he thought. Later rather than sooner, he cottoned on. Stopped dead in his tracks after a jesting nudge elicited an unexpected response, a harsh wince and sharp hiss of air received instead of a round of laughter or a shove in return.

        Baffled; the most prevalent of emotion, sudden turbulence knocking him out of sync. No trace of the careless grin moments prior stuck around, passive, good mood evaporated under the lens of the suspicion burning down upon it.

        Instinct bypassed neural paths, burgeoning thought just breaching the early stages of thinking as hands snapped forward, one locking her left forearm in place and the other forcing the sleeve farther up to expose the source of discomfort. Ah, but he's too rough in his haste. The angry pulse of a cool shade was spied for one second, before the owner yanked the arm from his grip with a complaint, defensively shielding it from view. One's more than enough.

        Rays of light frozen, birds locked mid flight, the short span of time stretching out, out, out as cognitive processes ramped up, reducing his immediate surroundings to near standstill. Narrowed blues fixed on the damning evidence, a spot of discolored skin crawling up the length of her arm. Rushing mind catalogued little details, each spurring a new splinter of thoughts and questions.

        It didn’t look broken, but it's a nasty bruise. Did he cause it just now ?  No, didn't make sense. He's actively making an effort to not accidentally hurt Natalie. A sign was already there. Her left arm saw little use today in favor of the right, lacking exuberance, hindering expressive gestures. Did she bump into a wall ?  Why hadn't she say anything then ?  Fair enough, he'd be embarrassed to admit he lost a fight to a flimsy piece of architecture too. But if not that, other options were there to purvey. Was someone bothering her ?  Did a person knowingly do this–

        Hands clenched, digits twitching, whitened knuckles already anticipating the familiarity of blood. Heh, now that's a thought. Names needed to be noted, fists itched to bury into something, be blessed by the satisfying crunch of something giving away underneath them. Concrete, earth, flesh, didn't matter.

        Boomer blinked a second later, the world resuming it's normal perceived flow of time, sounds of the city rushing back with a chaotic buzz. Her bruise was still there, which sucked.

        Prodding hands stilled, unsure what to do with themselves. They're made to destroy, clear cities, level mountains, carve into the untouchable. Not.... help in any meaningful measure. Punching away the problem ?  Worthless here. Natalie's not gonna die or anything if he took his eyes off her but ignoring it altogether didn't appeal either.

        A breath of frustration unfurled and brows furrowed. Fingers drummed an uneven beat against the side of his thigh to redirect excess energy elsewhere before it found an outlet outside the restless body.

        Oh !  Humans put ice on things when they get hurt. Chilled wounds, numbed pain. The Rowdyruff may not have Blossom-level subzero breath, but Boomer could manage that much. Flying Nat out to the arctic and dumping her in a snow drift to let it work its magic sounded like a great first plan. His mouth opened to suggest just that before it snapped shut with a click, doubt's lurking shadow cast over it as the question of whether the gesture would be appreciated the way he wanted it to be sprung up right behind the first thought. Ok, then. It'd take a little too much time anyways... A substitute would suffice.

        Within a few heartbeats, he tapped her shoulder  ( his position’s a few inches to the right now, though not seen making a visible step )  and raised a fitting offering to her eye level, a silent expectation for her to accept it. A tub of mint ice cream lifted from the convenience store they'd just passed down the road. What ?  A little theft never hurt anybody.

        Eyes too bright stared over the corny yellow lid sealing the container shut, electric blues heightened under the light of the sun. The unnatural peeked more to the surface as his wide grin returned, too at ease, too sharp.

        ❝ So... how'd you screw up your arm, Nat ?  I’m dying to know. ❞

@madestars​​ asked; katsuki:  bites deku on the cheek ( affectionately )  ò_ó

►  ❪  UNPROMPTED  //  always accepting  ❫

         Words and equations scrawled across opened pages. Mutters abound underneath a hand, the freckled youth picked and prodded at the blots of ink filtering through mental processes in hopes of reaching the desired conclusion. These last two proved rather challenging though Izuku liked to imagine begrudging progress was being crafted inch by inch.

         Kacchan's probably already finished his homework. Still didn't explain shit about why he's hovering like a vulture, not saying anything. Just watching. Thin hairs along the arms and neck prickled, the customary harshness lining his looks felt even when not facing vermilion eyes dead on. But even that faded into the quiet background after a stint of time. He's only half paying attention to the blonde now, peripherally aware but not fully focused, too consumed by stagnation brought on by the convoluted math problem. That's how it stayed... for a while.

         And then Kacchan — his childhood friend, despite all the rage, despite all their faults at communication, despite all the bullshit — well, he just leaned over and bit his fucking cheek.

         The shock's too overwhelming to stifle the lively curse fleeing gritted teeth as he bristled like a wild animal. Shoulders jolted, bewilderment fueling motion, scarred hand dropping the mechanical pencil to instinctively snap up and try to shove Kacchan's face away.

         Only then, did the absurdity register, and his sudden reaction abated slightly. Gazes locking, fingers half gripping blonde tufts, posture taut and partially turned to confront the presence in his space. A half second skipped by, shoulders incrementally smoothing out tension, despite the current chagrin at a part of his face being designated as spun from marshmallows apparently with zero warning. What the hell. There's other ways to get someone's attention. Y’know, with words ?  A tap on the shoulder ?

         Brows furrowed, and before Izuku could think better of it, before Kacchan could rescind his teeth, the opposing hand not planted across Kacchan's face darted for his other wrist, hoisting it up with a slight yank and clamping his own bared pearly whites down as affectionately as Kacchan had chosen to do so - a light pinch.

         Familiar blotches of color sat hot on freckled cheeks  ( the scent of cinnamon invades his senses )  yet a narrowed stare offered no intentions of tossing in the towel first.

@hamadaxfighter​​​​ asked; “ i’ve lost something as well. “ ( Sora or Kairi )

►  ❪  THE GREEN KNIGHT  //  accepting  ❫

         Sora had to wonder, with how much his heart's worn on his sleeve, if the darker side appeared more transparent as well. He was trying so hard to not to let it get to him, but guess he failed in that regard. A brief falter, but noticeable all the same for one of San Fransokyo's protectors to voice concern. Maybe it's the way his upbeat cheer dialed back a bit, or the stare cast over the ocean reflecting the light of the setting sun — a reminder of home, of where this spiral began.

         Startled laughter, a touch nervous / embarrassed as a gloved hand scratched the back of his neck,  ❝ Sorry Hiro. I’m being a bit of a downer, aren’t I ? ❞

         Enough of that then !  Gotta remember only happy faces powered this ship !  Hands settled on hips, stiff posture relaxing and stance adjusting, ready to lighten the mood even just a tad. Only, Hiro spoke up again, a hint towards his experiences.

         A unique type of pain sprung from the cavern of false ribs, a pang that settled deep within the recesses of a too full heart. It ached  ( it always has ), knowing that friends had also needed to bear the sting of hurt, to be weighed down with the agony of loss. How unexpected it was, and how it took and took and took, until it felt you had nothing left to be stolen away. As much as he'd like to take on all their burdens, Sora couldn't save everyone. The price a hero had to pay.

         ( it's your hurt too, isn't it ?  it must be ... to leave such deep scars in even you )

         But Hiro was here. His light hadn't been snuffed out. Despite the events in his life, he found his own way to move forward to this point, was still discovering his own path. Hiro really was something, wasn't he ? ... ( the true mark of a hero )

         ❝ I don't know what the 'you' of that time was like but I know losing something... can change people. ❞  Oh, he knew. A hand rested on his chest and lingered, gaze rising from where it'd fallen to the ground.  ❝ You're really strong, Hiro. I can only talk from the perspective I've got, but I know there's plenty of people out there who're glad they got to know the person you are today. Including me. ❞

@ianuarius​​ asked; “ i’ve got time. i’ve got lots of time. “ mori + q.

►  ❪  THE GREEN KNIGHT  ❫

         Moments, seconds, minutes. So much of it, yet it's never enough. Waking up in the morning hours seemed to invite endless possibilities that branched outwards into many avenues to spend it, but there's only so much able to be squeezed in the breadth allowed by the strict passage of a single finite day. Mori considered himself no deep philosopher pondering on the thought provoking merits of the world or the threads of secrets woven into its fabric that lay beyond human understanding. At the very least he valued what the grains of seconds passing them all by could represent, when he slowed down to take in everything and anything about the environment flourishing around him. A small appreciation for nature so to speak that reared its head now and again.

         Hearing talk of time from this joker though ?  That earned a suspecting squint, crosshairs narrowed to a fine line. A drawn out hmmmm tickled the base of his throat, arms folded, weight shifting as Mori rocked back and forth on his heels.

         Why the hell would Q have so much time on his hands to burn when he's always heard that supposed big shots had to drown in work to maintain their position ?  Was doing commission-y things not a part of the job memo, or did it only entail standing around for the nonexistent intimidation factor ?  Blondie's a commissioner too, and his sliver of strength unveiled during tournament recruitment seemed unreal, but maybe the title itself was no big deal.

         Come to think of it, all he'd ever seen glasses here do was smoke and snark and get his ass beat. Well, until it turned into Mori getting his own ass beat when a literal magician move was pulled out of nowhere, wicked blade a crescent flash of red aimed right for him  ( he'd been winning fair and square up until that point ) !

         Stinging reminder aside, even Mori knew how to partition his time between the essential tasks of eating, sleeping, and rigorous training. Studying for school too he guessed, but exams didn't exactly hold the highest spot on his list of priorities.

         ...Ah, Q must’ve been seeking out his sage advice on how to spend the afternoon !

         Hands settled on his hips, a small nod reaffirming the realization. Mori’s helpful tip held the backing of extensive self study research:  ❝ Think about investing it in naps ?  People need more sleep y’know. ❞

         Only moments later he backpedaled, a new / better idea blinking to life. Shoulders heft, exclamation alight in eyes. The perfect solution.  ❝ Ohhh !  No wait, forget that !  How 'bout another fight ?  Caught me off guard last time four eyes, but it's different now. I'm ready for ya ! ❞

@valorxdrive​ asked; ❛  i think the life i want is the life i have  ,  but how can i be sure ?  ❜ (To Tifa.)

►  ❪  NOT HERE  ❫

         Boy garbed in brightness, heart lighter than air. Yet it seemed clouds of doubt arrived on innocuous winds to cast their shadows. That question... it's one many had surely asked themselves at least once in their lives. She was no exception to this rule, contemplations following her to new worlds traversed, hidden in the silent moments of repose. The flicker of a smile warmed calm features, scarlet gaze observing the uncertainty presented.

         The culmination of hopes and dreams, the goals aspired to, things that shape a person and chartered their path through life. Emotion and self reflection drove the clarity he sought. As light as her own heart was, that's not something Tifa could lay out clear as day for the keyblade wielder. It's hidden deep within, a truth known only to his ears and one always subject to shifting changes and the trials the journey brought. What may be the answer today might be entirely new tomorrow. However, it's not her style to leave a trusted friend hanging with nothing when they looked to her for any wisdom.

         Words of guidance / pearls of advice from a new, different perspective - it's the best she could do.

         ❝ That's really only something you have the key to figure out. ❞  Gloved palm settled on the other’s shoulder, delivering a reassuring squeeze,  ❝ But, I think you'll find the answer waiting for you inside your heart, Sora. It will just take a little time to get to it. ❞

@madestars​​ asked; [ TEASE ]  //  kohaku & deku !

►  ❪  AFFECTIONATE  ❫

         It's hot today.

         The sun beamed down upon the earth without care, rays of light streaming through leaves of treetops, glistening on water, petals and leaves of flora soaking in the warmth. The moderate weather didn't matter, he'd have kept up with training nonetheless but Izuku had to admit it was nicer / preferable / peaceful. Give him sunshine over brutal winds, freezing rain, biting frost any day. Did Kohaku share the same opinion ?  Couldn't hurt to ask, seeing as she invited herself to this session blade in hand. The barbarian minded her presence as much as sun, welcomed it even. It's what led to now. A break for catching haggard breath after the intense spar, seated on upturned dirt, settled back against his broadsword. Its length proved more than enough to offer an easy place to rest against, even after the blade firmly dug a foot into the ground.

         Green blinked open, curiosity sitting in his throat — parched, the air's dryer today too. A second's all he had to process the proximity, lithe hands uncomfortably close to his face and too bright eyes  ( cat-like, as if targeting a hapless prey ), and it's enough for creeping dread to soundly seat itself in his stomach. Muscles strained as they jolted him back, burning from the effort and exertion just undergone. Or, that's what he'd like the result to have been. If only, if only !  His  ( formerly All Might's, a legend in its own right )  sturdy sword, once a bastion of safety and reassurance, now staunched his attempt at recoiling out of her range and sealed his fate.

         Gods dammit.

         ❝ Mmphf ?! ❞  His eyes squeezed shut, nose scrunching under the force exerted under her bruising grip, freckled cheeks smooshed as if fingers molded clay instead. Where... did she get the energy ?  Didn't she know her own strength ?!  ❝ C'mon... Kohaku... ❞  He'd be flustered about the pitch of his voice approaching the ceiling of a whine, but he's fairly certain it's a fruitless protest that fell on deaf ( ?? ) ears anyhow. Shoulders hiked up close to his ears, scarred hands fumbling for a hold of thin wrists before his face got rearranged beyond recognition.

         Yeah, Izuku didn't want to recklessly toss her off / risk even a small chance of accidentally hurting his friend beyond the realm of sparring, but enduring this.... Embarrassment stamped its red mark all over his face.

         It's been a while though — since he had a friend like this to be close to. So maybe, he didn’t mind this as much either.

@madestars​​​ asked; “  just sit there.  i’m going to make you something to eat.  ”  ( bakugo @ deku )

►  ❪  AFFECTIONATE  ❫

        It's something he's more than used to pushing through. The taxing proof of a body growing stronger, endurance pushing his limits with each blow thrown. Muscles straining under wear and tear from the abuse of rigorous training. Bruised knuckles burning under the aching heat. Exhaustion lined his eyes, the walk home buffeted by an onslaught of yawns. He's ready to call it a day, to get home and allow the void of the soft carpet lining living room floor to swallow him, but it seemed other plans were in store.

         Steps stumbled, body staggering just so to the right from shoulders connecting and out of the way of the delineated path. Blinking owlishly, Izuku found his footing. Annnnd- there he went, seemingly on a mission right past Izuku. There’s a sigh of customary slight frustration, but aside from a unheard mutter of  ❝ Geez, excuse me works perfectly well too ❞  as he slid off his shoes, no further complaint came.

         Thirty seconds after crossing the threshold of the door and Kacchan's already commandeered his kitchen, clearing the counter and prepping the rarely used appliances. Perimeter established like he’s getting ready to fight instead of the actual act of cooking. Izuku trailed a minute after, pausing to shrug tote bag off the shoulder and dump it in a chair.

         ❝ Aren't you tired ? ❞  If denial came, he should be. The other just went through a full day of juggling work and studies. He shouldn’t push himself like this over something like dinner. He didn’t need to...worry about Izuku. Overwork wasn't exactly smiled upon within the Midoriya household  ( it's not like he had a leg to stand on, but still ). Kacchan's general wellbeing was of considerable importance.  ❝ I can just order something. I'll go run and pick it up. ❞

“  just sit there.  i’m going to make you something to eat.  ”

         He's half expecting it, but the reasonable suggestion's shot down with the force of a bullet. Lips pressed into a thin line, brows knitted as he shook his head, another sigh burning his tongue.

         Fine. Fine. Sleeves rolled up as Izuku stepped forward. Too bad for him then that he could output equal amounts of stubborness when he wanted to. Izuku breezed right past the indicated seat, sidling next to the blonde as if he never heard the order, already reaching for the wooden stand on the counter.

         ❝ I can help too Kacchan. I've gotten way better with handling a knife. ❞

@deathburns asked; ‘  you are teaching me to love  ’ but its the good bellatte content :)

►  ❪  YOU & THESE BONES  ❫

          Comfort seldom greeted those mired among the threads of war, but no sounds disturbed the ambience of night resting easily across this human village. If she focused her hearing enough, ears soon picked up on the activities of nocturnal creatures, of the wind rustling the leaves, of the villagers enjoying a safe evening. The illusion of peace only made Ellatte appreciate these days all the more.

         Here, under the lonely gaze of distant stars they met again. He sat and she stood, one of few ways they can see close to eye to eye. Was it weakness that led her, leaning into a demon's touch rather than recoiling ? No. The celestial didn't believe so, not when loving itself took strength. Again and again, she found it in these interludes that was theirs alone. She found it in him.

         It laid in the way he cradled her face, capable of terrible wrath yet carrying nothing but tenderness when handling her. In the way he gifted a nuzzle to her forehead, foreign / familiar beats of affection eliciting a shiver and suspending breath - slowly, she's growing accustomed sensations it brought. In how his palms lingered after, war-worn and calloused, not unlike her own marked by battle. In the quiet words felt as much as heard, a breath of vulnerability skimming across her skin, a confession she listened to in rapt attention with a reverence of her own.

         ❝ Don't be silly. ❞  A reprimand, but one lacking bite, teasing in tone. Gently, fingers curled into locks whitened silver by the soft glow of moonlight, tucking loose strands behind the shell of his ear. Isn't this time they shared together proof enough ?  ❝ You already knew how to. ❞

         ( to love is not to ask, it is to give. and he had given so much already, so filled with love. she never needed to teach a thing. )

         Reaching up, her hand grazed his, coaxing and clear with intent, and soon fingers intertwined into a secure hold. Closer, closer she pressed forward, unafraid and earnest. Roseate lips ghosted over top his, her own words feather-like in their caress.  ❝ You'll stay with me tonight... right, Bellion ? ❞

@valorxdrive asked; (Sora may 'absolutely does' have quite the case of dokis now.) "Feeling brave? Bet you'll turn strawberry like this pocky before I do."

►  ❪  UNPROMPTED  [ from ages ago ]  // always accepting  ❫  

         Perched on one of the railings leading out of the school, legs dangling, Kairi felt every bit at peace, basking in the warmth of the sun beating down on the islands. It's so easy to miss the ordinary days, relax in monotony away from the chaos awaiting beyond the boundless sea / walls of her world. A private comfort she's learned to indulge in whenever the moment arose. It may be noted however, that she's distinctly lacking the other two-thirds of her trio. Riku called it a day with the dismissing toll of the final bell, finding the idea of heading home early preferable to loitering around on school grounds but she decided to be merciful, waiting on the final member who was running late.

         More minutes ticked by. Just as Kairi started to debate whether or not Sora accidentally fell into a hole and got transported to another world, she spotted the first glimpse of the messy brown hair. Kicking off from the railing, a hand rose to wave greeting only to pause. Something...was up. Brimming with energy, he barely seemed able to contain himself as he strutted down the hall, little ticks such as the constantly shifting and bouncing on the balls of his feet indicators of some plan brewing in that head of his.

         Realization settled in once he's close enough to make out minor details, like the thin biscuit doused in pink coating hanging from quirked lips as he beckoned her over to try her luck. Eyes lingered on the pocky, how it jittered with the motion his words produced as he talked around it, before flicking back up to meet his own. He really knew how to toe the line, where to just push and wring the brightest of smiles free from her.

         Come to think of it was pocky day, right ?  Tidus or Selphie must've notified him. With the keyblade wielder in and out of the islands like a revolving door, the chances of him remembering a silly little playful holiday like this on his own were not the best.

         However, such proud boasts only earn a tut in retort. Distance decreased, a few feet parting them, hands locked behind her back,  ❝ Mm, ❞  she hummed idly, a smile pulled across her lips.  ❝ I think you made one little mistake. ❞

         Teasing may have been a good strategy on any other day of the week, but it'd lead to his downfall here and now. Sorry Sora, but you seem to underestimate her motivation to overcome such challenges, overriding any initial embarrassment / the skipped beat of her heart. A foolish error on his part, one she'll seek to correct in its entirety.

         Another step closer. And another. Scant inches rested between, gaze fixed on the tints of color swirling in ever mesmerizing blue irises, the afternoon sunlight casting a warm glow across his skin as sweet scents invaded senses.  Confidence warded off the fluster, a sentinel in the night barring such emotions from entry. Gently, she took a bite and- yanked it out of his grasp, taking the majority of the baked stick with her. There’s no qualms about making the remainder of the treat disappear with a satisfied grin.

          A theft swiftly remedied by her leaning in once more, thumb tracing his jawline, but rather than pocky as her target something just as sweet awaited. Lips collided, familiar flavours dancing across them. Kairi found only a singular thought flitting across her mind as eyes fell shut. He tasted just like strawberry. One of her favourites.

@litoredeem​​ asked; ❝ Uh... Sorry. ❞ His hesitation lasts for all of a three seconds ( three seconds too long, that is, curse his awkwardness ) before his fingers inch forth. rustling strands of cherry before withdrawing to reveal to her what had stolen its way into her hair -- a firefly. Glowing in a steady pulse as crawls along his index finger.

Before he can offer to let her hold her little stowaway, they'd find its own friends had joined this impromptu meeting; lighting up their surroundings like little flickering stars.

[ magical ask for kairi 😌 ]

►  ❪  UNPROMPTED // always accepting  ❫  

         Summer cast its warm breath over the archipelago, humid air sticking to skin as shades of sunset painted over the island's occupants. The evening sun slowly dissolved, a descent into the ocean as the surface of the waves caught and reflected its distant flare.

         Diligent fingers plucked away at thin strands, careful strokes steadily weaving together an image, a near silent hum under the breath. An old wordless tune derived from hazy recollections but it's as familiar as breathing. Legs dangled over the edge of the tree's walkway, rhythmic motions lulling the islander into a comfortable pace as she worked. If she happened to listen a bit harder she could hear the barks of laughter and good-natured bantering of friends as a ball blitzed back and forth between them on the beach below.

         One had instead chosen to keep her company as he seated himself beside her. Riku. Casual conversation was exchanged but now an easy, content silence fell into place. It felt nostalgic. It brought back those days when Riku would similarly join her and they'd talk until Sora arrived or home called.

         Her heart gave way to an unspoken sigh, one filled with relief and known only to her. That year / absence / void between, she tried to never linger too long on it. The sheer sense of wrong hounding every step taken. Ever since the slow realization crept up on her — the ability to remember Sora losing shape, twisting into formless shadows as the world around her forgot — sometimes Kairi found herself overwhelmed with the worry that one day she'd wake up and there'd be nothing of Riku too. That the spot he occupied in her memories would be empty and he'd slip away as well, grains of sand through her fingers. 

         A fear of being haunted by another ghost of a boy she couldn't quite fully recall.

         The apology startled Kairi out of musings, a questioning gaze turning to her friend. What's he saying sorry for ?  Did she miss something ?  He hadn't done anything but sit down and that's not exactly a dastardly, criminal offense.

         Movements instantly stilled as his hand drew closer. A simple gesture, a faint shock hitting her system and freezing her in place as a breath's instinctively held. More often than not, it's her reaching out first, initiating contact, but power to him if...

         This wasn't a head pat at all.

         Setting aside the handheld loom, widened eyes raptly followed the little bug move, wings fluttering, emitting a mesmerizing glow. Pretty sneaky of this little guy to park itself among her messy hair without any notice at all on her end. Then again, with thoughts wandering and hands busy, maybe it wasn't so difficult a task to accomplish.

         It took no time at all for more fireflies to flit in, shining trails meandering in the air. They're like a multitude of tiny fairies dancing on the breeze, illuminating the area. Glimmering flecks among the shroud of fading light. It’s... wonderful.

         The unseen coil of old insecurities melted away, shoulders smoothing out as slight tension she didn't realize she carried thawed. Slowly but surely, corners of a smile hitched higher and higher. Bright, yet soft, as her eyes traced over them.

         ❝ You know what ? ❞  A murmur, near silent but growing with each word. She looked at Riku then, at the firefly still perched upon his finger. At someone she's always known, but at the same time was relearning about. And she laughed,  ❝ They remind me of you. ❞

@vibraea​ asked; ❛  why did you bring me here ?  ❜ @ Kairi !

►  ❪  NOT HERE  ❫

        It’s just a little hard to persuade the other. A difficult task in coaxing her friend into following without receiving too many questions, walking that thin line. A balancing act of crafting responses adequate enough to satisfy and parry digs for information while not revealing crucial details. Gemiya’s smart, might piece together too many context clues, unravel and spoil the whole ‘surprise’ half of the effort.

         It’s nothing to worry about / no real big deal if she’s found out but it still had fingers fidgeting, dancing along hems, thumbing buttons, unconsciously giving her hands something to occupy as the tram swayed with the motion of rolling down the town’s railways. Gentle orange shades draped across the evening bustle as they passed, the laughter of children engaged in activities of fun ringing clear. Arriving at the destination discarded those reservations, a breath of relief in stepping down off the tight rope, no more need to tip toe about the reason the girls stood in twilit plaza, bistro’s sign a beacon among the calm.

         ❝ Come on Gemi, do you really need to ask ? ❞  She tugged eyes away from partly-clouded skies. Warmth, near blinding - in her gaze / smile / heart, a hand reaching out to clasp Gemiya’s tightly.  ❝ You work so hard !  I think you deserve a break now and then. ❞

         Uncle Scrooge wouldn’t mind her borrowing the kitchen for a bit, providing she produce her own ingredients of course. With pointers from Little Chef to elevate baking skills to new heights, she’s certain to whip up something curated to her friend’s tastes.  ❝ So let me just do a little thing for you, alright ? ❞

@vibraea​​ asked; ❛   there have been countless times in my life when i thought i’d be better off dead.  ❜  @ Izuku

►  ❪  BROKEN  ❫

         Like so many times prior, body reacted before mind caught up, before information properly settled. It often propelled Izuku  ( always moving forward / it's not repose lining your seat of rest / you know what happens when you dare to stop ), throwing him straight in the fray, body a shield to be sacrificed / pieces easily thrown aside. A true mark of a hero as some say. If harm or suffering of another can be reduced, it’s always worth it. 

         There’s no isolated problem he’s capable of solving head on now. No tangible threat to fling himself in front of. And so the opposite set in. Limbs frozen, wide eyes staring, dismay etched in lips parted and words caught in throat. This coldness sinking into his veins, it's not Todoroki around the corner inducing ice to creep up his legs. It's something else. It’s inside.

         Faint, the croak of her name aired from wrung out lungs, face crumpling before he could stop it.  ❝ Gemiya… ❞

         He didn't know the whole story, the full picture, but this ?  The singular glimpse right here ?  It’s enough to set on edge, unease skittering down his skin with the grace afforded to spiders. Where did he start with responding ?  How did someone even begin ? 

         Desire to fix and fix and fix led nowhere with no immediate solution, leaving him to flounder haplessly, grasp for answers that didn't exist. Disconcerting, how close it resembled the inner turmoil after hearing about Ingenium and watching Iida spiral all whilst wearing a brave face, maintaining the facade of normalcy.

         How ?  How do I help ?

         Better off dead.

         Despair threatening to swallow whole and snuff the light far beyond horizons unseen to the eye, tunnel was too generous of a word for the kind of darkness he grew up in but… 

         Izuku's too stubborn / too set on hopeless dreams / too full of rage to lay down and die.

         ❝ You can- you come talk to me okay ?  Next time you feel like that I…I don’t know how much that will do but…❞  Words struggled to fit in the mouth, uneven weight perched on the tongue. They seemed more fitting for lodging in his throat than conveying his messy bundle of thoughts. Digits curled and uncurled by his sides.  ❝ I... Maybe... it's better when you're not alone. When you have someone else there to work through difficult feelings with you. ❞

@quartarcade​​ asked; ❛  why are you here ?  ❜ (from Lee to Kazuya cause we both know that interaction's gonna be inevitable hiii)

►  ❪  STORIES UNFINISHED  ❫  

         For a moment, all the man wreathed in scars, blood, and darkness could do was stare as this frivolous peacock of a person emanating light strut onto the fighting scene waving and blowing kisses to the roaring crowd. Soft silver exchanged for metallic purple. Subtle but eye catching indigo traded for flamboyance screaming attention. Supposed foreigner tossing out English greetings, throwing roses into the roiling audience like it was all a grand performance on stage and not a grisly combat arena. Flash and glimmer — hallmarks of Chaolan — to cover up the reality underneath.

         How flagrant.

         Even back then, Kazuya could tell. A truth obvious to his discerning eyes. As soon as Chaolan wriggled an inch out from underneath their father's iron thumb and held some semblance of freedom, he'd explode into the frenzy of glamour and brilliance that living under Heihachi's shadow suppressed / darkened / forced him to hide. Exactly what happened after he stepped foot in America, after Kazuya thought he cast that horrible shadow from their lives back to hell where it belonged. Disengaging from the family name entirely seemed to open his brother's avenue into fully embracing the extravagance teeming underneath pale skin.

         The act paused, his presence noticed by the other finally, the revelation that he stood here and not burning in some god forsaken pit of magma arresting further movement. Why was he here - a genuine question or accusation ?  It'd be of no surprise if his brother nursed the same wish as their father, a hope that this monster stayed in his grave, that he’d never darken their doorways again.

         Red leather creased under curled fingers. Arms crossed, acid doused the look regarding Chaolan. Sneer curling the corner of the lip, Kazuya considered not acknowledging the words at all.

         ❝ Why are you here - and speaking English at that ?  Messing with your hair and putting on a show ?  You pretend like you haven’t lived here all your life ? ❞  Traces of quiet bitterness tinged the inquiries, overlaid with irritation.  ❝ I'm here to fight. If you intend to only show off for the crowd and not take this seriously, then get out of my way. ❞

         ( go back to whatever shiny rock you crawled out from / back to your life without me in it )

@gravedeserved asked; ❛  it’s  not  my  fault  i  have  my  mother's  eyes  .  ❜ ( from elizabeth to mel! )

►  ❪   VEHEMENT  ❫

         Measured motions guided calloused hand, fingers skimming along hairline, tucking loose strands behind the shell of an ear adorned with an earring. Blue intricate surface refracted shafts of light streaming through window shutters, glittering sheen reminiscent of the way her eyes almost glowed through the contrasting dimness set upon the majority of the tavern's interior. Tranquility evoking nostalgia. They’re the bottomless sea and ever boundless sky, precious gemstones encapsulating a strength unseen to many, remaining glimpsed to only a few.

         It's true Elizabeth's eyes differed from that of her elder sisters. One held stark blue to the cool tones of amber brown and sharp hazel inherited from the late queen. Shade dyed a deeper pigment, just a stone’s throw off from a dying woman's grateful gaze, glimmering with tears in the final moments. 

         ( he can't recall heavenly hue hidden behind blistering glare. harsh / burning / out of place against the backdrop of faded memories, mortal eyes not meant to gaze upon the absolute and divine )

         ❝ We can't do anything about what we're born with. It can suck sometimes - being just stuck with what we got - but I don't see anything wrong with that. Nishishi, I mean look at you. You scored a perfect in the looks department. ❞  Fingers lifted from their lingered spot, moving to brush aside a curtain of silver and revealing painfully familiar orange, the tri-pronged spiral ever condemning present.  ❝ ...Trust me. You're fine as is. ❞

@madestars​​​ asked; brush .   work  a  brush  /  comb  through  my  muse’s  hair . nat -> boomer

►  ❪  LOUD & DEAFENING SILENCE  ❫

         Boomer didn’t get some things about Natalie, but that was okay. He too withheld talking too much about himself. The boy figured it's an unspoken thing. Her not quite coming clean about the hellish aura hanging around her; him not explaining things like why his hair's so wildly windswept, the remnants of debris occasionally caking his clothing. Anyways, it's cool to just show up unannounced, no ?

         The slight against personal appearance upon his arrival couldn't go ignored, friendship notwithstanding. Perfectly primed hair did not mimic a rat's nest !!  ...It just happened to get a little messed up after a fall through thirty feet of solid concrete was all.

         A hand reached up to gently thumb the end of a flaxen strand sprinkled with fine grains of pulverized cement. Several had loosened from the messy approximation of a barely there ponytail, the stub of blonde frizz haphazardly yanked up and out of the way. It got annoying sometimes, hair whipping into his face like someone slapping his cheeks with a duster. How Brick dealt with his curtain of red, Boomer doubted he'd ever know. Maybe he should follow the Butch path. Trim it short. Natalie proposed an alternate solution to hacking away at his hair with a pair of scissors.

         ❝ That’s one of the most random things I’ve heard come out of you all week, ❞  The response came slow, a pointed / dubious glance thrown at the waiting brush already in hand and prepared to work its magic. And it was really. Sure, he didn’t mind the idea of it per se, but the statement came out of the left field. People didn't usually request to mess with someone else's hair. They went ahead and did it. She could be so strange sometimes, taking unnecessary extra steps.  ❝ Well, if you really want to, go ahead. ❞

         After a moment’s hesitation, rowdy youth plopped himself down. Wide blues swivelled, watching her round his haphazard position on the ground before departing line of sight, weapon of choice still in hand. Knees pulled up, arms curling around them as spine gradually stiffened, uneven breath unconsciously held. The seconds between her figuring out the best adjustment to lock herself into for tackling messy curls seemed to drag on for a long, near dizzying moment. And longer. And longer. And...

         Oh, uh, he's more uncertain than he thought about others near his head. Hair ruffles and innocent taps escaped him, playful / punishing punches more the norm. Not that any impact from Nat would generate damage. Taking a hit from her swing much further in the likelihood of injuring the small hand on his thick skull, but knowing and sitting through ingrained habits and instinct are different things. Knowing didn't stop Boomer from needing to reign in the reflex to flinch out from underneath her too near range, tightly weaving it into a coil he ground under his heel with prejudice.

         Breath rushed out of him in an instant as the half-broken tie's pulled loose from its ' ponytail ', hair falling in curling waves to tickle nape and shoulders before deft fingers set to working through gathered knots.

         The first few strokes had no effect; his entire body shifted at every tangle, forcing Natalie steady him with hand on his back. But soon enough, he was holding himself against the pull of the hairbrush. Soft bristles scraped through the mess, combing out any tangles and smoothing down wayward curls.

         Natalie’s perched on the couch, knee just barely brushing against his arm. The smallest form of physical contact but it’s enough. The rare silence between them was comfortable, easy in a way he sometimes had difficulty putting into tangible thought. Though he's making an attempt at adjusting to this friend thing, this closeness with a human being in a situation lacking the involvement of violence, but this was... acceptable.

         The tide of lethargy swept at the undersides of his peering eyelids, coaxing them to drift shut, the task of reopening them growing progressively harder each time he's tugged under tired waves.

         Before he's able to fully process the experience, it's over. Blinking open eyes revealed an increasingly familiar visage, ginger locks framing a near smug expression.

         Oh no.

        He shot to his feet and almost flew to the nearest washroom, a blur of movement in his haste to see exactly what havoc took place while iron clad defenses had been lowered. Did she prank him ?  Was he done over in a stupid, heinously girly makeover like Bubbles had once inflicted on him ??  Did she take a razor to his head and he was now Mojo levels of bald ??? 

         ( oh god oh fuck he can almost feel hands shrinking in on themselves at the embarrassing knee jerk thoughts flooding the mind )

         The reflection in the mirror that greeted him gawked back,  ❝ Huh ?? ❞

         Boomer didn't know what the fuck happened while he was dozing off but some black magic was enacted and his hair soaked it all up. Not a tangle hampered fingers combing through glossy strands. Iconic wings of the hairstyle set so well they could take off from his head any second. He could almost see cartoonish sparkles glimmering off the near imperceptible sheen his hair held. He's never been able to get it like this, no matter how often he stubbornly tended to it.

         ❝ What d'you know, you're pretty good at this ! ❞  Mood bounced back, spirited voice raising to project yet just low enough to carry and not shatter every window in the building,  ❝ Thanks, Nat ! ❞

@deathburns​ asked; “  i trust you with parts of myself i’m afraid to show anyone else.  ” /   “  you make me feel brave.  ” [ jazzhands bellatte agenda ]

►  ❪  AFFECTIONATE  ❫

         Greenery thrived on the isles elevated among the sea of clouds. The long expanse of years upon years allowed isolated ecosystems to flourish new life in the sky, but not to this extent. Removal of limited space and a change in altitude made all the difference, a staggering contrast highlighting what one celestial picked up on soon after her descent. Earthen flora spilled over into countless varieties, and Ellatte found herself falling in love with each new one stumbled across, another entry to her expanding journal.

         A lively bouquet / parting gift from the owner of a flower shop the town over secured in the crook of her arm as she gave her usual greeting to Bellion. It didn't take long for a question about the flowers' presence to wind up with him holding them as she launched headfirst into enthusiastic rambling.

         Maybe in another life, she could have focused on caring for plants, immersing herself in wondrous botany rather than readying herself for battles lying in wait. A fear born from the guillotine poised over the exposed necks of her people, constructed thousands of years ago by the litany of demons. But there's more to their presumed executioners than meets the eye.

         ( would she still know bellion in that type of world, personally, dare she say almost intimately ?  would he occupy the same space in her life he guarded now ? )

         A gentle tune punctuated the lull in her explanations, a voiceless melody reverberating in a soothing hum as she took in his countenance. The easygoing posture as he reclined against a thick, weathered branch of one of many oaks of the forest. The expression he watched her with.

         It's hard to describe the look she's seen on him more often than not as of late, to varying degrees. Thinking, consideration. A touch stifling in its focus / searching / intensity. But the heated edges were softened by... she's unsure.

         It felt like he's testing something. Surveying her reactions.

         Sometimes it’s a prelude to bursts of odd behaviour. Like the times he brought her heaps of food  ( more than she knew what to do with / the majority of it ends up given to the villagers ), or he'd say something strange. Missing proper context, connotations she failed to grasp, it sailed right overhead. A blank stare in response may force him to backtrack and offer tentative reasonings or simple, evasive denials to requests of further insight. A confusing blend of distant yet overly affectionate. Why the hell did he make himself both open and hard to read at the same time ?  The avenue of mixed messages waltzed in far too easily than it had any right to.

         It frustrated Ellatte, yet also tragically endeared her. But she wouldn't dare be caught telling him as much; he's prideful enough already. The last thing he needed was any type of ego boost courtesy of her.

         ❝ You almost look like a completely different person when you let yourself relax. ❞  A genuine observation and a past one often kept to herself. It's verbalized this time, slipping through the cage of idle thoughts with ease. She's almost aghast at how freely it's aired but he seemed none too bothered by it.

❝ I trust you with parts of myself I'm afraid to show anyone else. ❞

         It's spoken casually to the point she wondered if his words were conjured up by the imagination. A demon placing any measure of faith in a goddess. I trust you, like he's commenting on something utterly mundane. I trust you, like a simple natural fact, rather than the gravity of what it inherently carried. Trust. A precious component underlying the bridge of connection formed between two entities, sometimes paving the way for the unthinkable to happen.

         Colour crept up from her neck, cheeks gaining a rosier tint as the basest urge to glance away from his vivid scrutiny seized her, a refusal to show flustered reaction in full,  ❝ I'm glad that you can tell me that. I really am !  But you shouldn't say such things so lightly. That... It's... ❞

         It's treading unknown waters.

         He trusted her.

         Ears burned under the force of the heat brewing beneath skin. A fist pressed against her chest, a silent plea sent to a heart picking up its pace to cut it out at once. Mind quickly redirected before it could fasten itself to the train of thought. If allowed to sit and set roots, it'd making her think. It’d make her... wonder.

         It's hard to imagine Bellion as getting scared over anything. He's Bellion. A high ranking demon entire armies followed into battle. The surviving leader of the former six knights of black, terrifying figures carved into the celestials’ history and spoken of long after in hushed, wary tones as evil, ferocious monsters without fear, the impure who murdered and devoured life. The strong — if at times lax — front he presented rarely faltered. The pillar of almost insurmountable strength he represented in her eyes felt ironclad. What could shake the foundations of his heart ?

         Some tension's expelled as she forcefully loosened the tight knot sitting firm within her chest, whitened knuckles regaining colour as fingers slowly unfurled. A sigh transitioned into a miffed huff mid breath and she pushed hair out of her eyes, tucking stray strands of white behind the shell of an ear.

         Her feathers needed to smooth out. She shouldn't be so blatantly thrown off balance by this. He's her friend. Of course she's happy he trusted her. To hear him say that gave a certain warmth, a lightness to her chest like it could walk on clouds. It's not any different from when Solaad chose to confide in her and having the knowledge that it's because she could be relied on.

         The faint flush of pink lingered from the earlier flood of happiness on the apple of her cheeks and tips of the ears, heart a touch upbeat from baseline but poise was restored for the most part. Hopefully the brief interlude of silence from her end as she collected her thoughts didn't come off as abnormal. She chanced a glance up.

         He's there. What once spanned a few strides had been reduced to mere steps as he stood before her, not wreathed in hellbent wrath but surrounded by the embrace of flora, taking her hand in his once he regained her wandering attention. He did nothing but hold it, something like a smile playing on the corner of his lips, and with him closer she found she couldn't look away as easily. So unnecessarily close, and tender, and fond, and strange. Bellion, forged from war and yet... she began to think. This might be a version of him that maybe no one else ever quite had the opportunity to witness, and she’s painfully aware of how lucky she was to have been given this chance.

         Then almost as fast as it came into existence, the almost smile disappeared, replaced by something she didn't recognize. Something that almost looked like longing.

❝ You make me feel brave. ❞

         The bricks of composure painstakingly built up... she could see crumbling into dust as indiscernible emotions railed into them at full force. He's...!

         Ellatte retracted her hand from his grip, cutting the advancement short, unwilling to allow the feelings to fully take hold and petrify her into another round of stunned, flustered silence. Uncertainty bit, clamping down like a wild thing. ( what would looking upon him again reveal ?  rejection's far from her intent, but she didn't want to feel the if only brief sting of whatever emotion she could've wrought by pulling away ). Closed lungs were forced to work, to speak through the spun sugar oh so sweet on the tongue and threatening to clog the throat.

         ❝ Flowers can hold so many meanings. It's another language entirely, and I may be a novice at it but I think I'm getting better at speaking it. Look here at this one. ❞  Leaning closer, ever mindful of the proximity, a particular flower's separated from the rest and she plucked it from the bouquet, thumb caressing vibrant petals,  ❝ It's a freesia. I've been told while others can imply similar things, this flower is the only one that symbolizes trust. ❞

         Stem tucked between two fingers, she reached out to him this time. Catching his hand in her own set, both folded around it in a gentle yet firm hold.  ❝ I carried it here after I heard that because when I looked at it I thought of you. ❞  She didn't lift her face yet, letting her gaze fall upon their joined hands, the blossoming flower sprouting from that connection.

         A goddess and a demon, bound not by the violence expected of them but instead trust. A nigh unthinkable engagement between the clans, meaningful chances for such long since torn apart with ashes scattered to the winds, leaving behind inherent hatred and instinct to draw blood before one's own met that fate. A willingness to engage in those acts may have been there originally — natural after the nature of their circumstances — but it too, like all things, dissipated with time.

         Those days were behind her now. While the future's more uncertain than before, she's all the more ready to confront it. With Bellion here, it seemed...a little bit easier to take that step. What was bravery, if not the will to continue despite shackles of doubt and fear and doubt plaguing one's resolution ?

         Silver crown tilted forward, bringing forehead to rest against his torso, an action gingerly done in execution with the barest of force behind it. A light tap more than anything / a silent apology for moments before. The wide margin of height placed the flowers a scant breath away from a small smile that softened features, the bright petals reflected glow casting a mosaic of colour as leaves brushed against skin. The freesia truly did look beautiful.

         Face prickled ever so slightly with the hint of the returning blush, lips shifting into something just shy of stupidly joyful.  ❝ I'd like to be brave too. ❞

“ you’ve been so quiet. what’s on your mind? ” ( For Bennett!! )

►  ❪ QUESTIONS  ❫

         The flame of optimism to go unnoticed was thoroughly extinguished by Mondstadt's cavalry captain astute observation. Energy dimmed, a peculiar quiet where enthusiasm would once be found, perhaps Bennett shouldn't have been as surprised as he was upon receiving the remark. Yeah, he  [ usually ]  received a wide berth, space sought to be put between the wary and him / his terrible luck, but others who knew him even a little beyond that might note the unexplained shift in normal behaviour as enough of a clue something was off.

         A strangely pitched grunt rumbled from the base of his throat, lips moving to shape consonants and vowels, but efforts bore no fruit. Words failed to materialize and pierce his silence. A thumb jutted at opened mouth — a hint, an indication of the consumption of an item — before he shook his head. A gesture's made towards his throat, straightened hand sweeping back and forth, a slicing motion.

         The ability to speak was stripped from him. Any other time he'd jump at the chance to speak with Kaeya but Bennett's left with naught but his thoughts, unable to communicate beyond the scope of body language.

         Sheepish grin crept onto his features, a touch guilty, eyes flicking about before returning to the man. The ensuing shrug and heavy sigh's clear:  ❛ what can ya do, right ? ❜  In reality, he brought this on himself. The adventurer ate something out in the wild he  ( in retrospect )  shouldn't have yesterday and karma came to collect, blessing him with an ailment, afflicting him since rising with the morning sun. He's been at it all day, trying out all kinds of natural remedies. None stuck.

         He'd bounce back in no time, as sure as the wind was free !  This incident ought to have used up a lot of bad luck so what awaited him would be a better tomorrow. Hopefully, Kaeya would still be willing and able to talk when that tomorrow did roll around.

“ why did you come? ”  @ Sora

►  ❪ QUESTIONS  ❫

         Wide smile stretched across visage, a shower of light marking the exit of his blade, hands linking behind mused hair as body rocked on its heels, balance righted just before gravity took hold. Nonchalance, a bit off tempo in the beat of the moment but the key’s chosen wielder would argue that a silly question incurred a silly response.

         ❝ Of course I would. ❞ Excuse him if fond exasperation glossed over the teasing tucked away in the recesses of his voice. Why would he show up ? Why wouldn’t he ? Honestly, Gemiya held much closer bonds to Kairi than Sora, but still — she should know him better than that by now. They were friends !

         ( weight upon shoulders builds, bending / creaking / but bones not quite breaking — ready to give just a bit more, as much as it took to see it through. how much can one heart give before it gives, collapsing under the heaviness of its own kindness ? )

         If it could help even a little bit, then putting in an appearance would be worth the effort. It’s who he was, had always been, and despite everything on his journey, hardships and trials hadn’t changed that the slightest about them him. ❝ I’ll always lend a hand. You know how it is. ❞

"you're not a very convincing liar." ( katsuki @ izuku :') )

►  ❪ DIALOUGUE  ❫

         His fluent way with words impressed as per usual, a vicious reckoning coming to kick down Izuku's bolted door.

         Specks of irritation fettered boy into place, rising to meet the challenge as freckled cheeks burrowed further into tattered yellow. Expression set, pensive, bracing for impact. No longer did the boy shrink away from ever burning eyes of childhood friend.

         It's unthinkable to ask his friends to shoulder this heavy weight alongside him. Regret for the initial flurry of biting words disregarding their feelings sat within a rattled ribcage, among decaying wishes to go back to a time much simpler than this, but the sentiment behind them did not. Keeping them — everyone — safe mattered the most. He didn't need their understanding. He needed them alive and breathing, capable of finding happiness and meaning when the storm passed. This mission he inherited from the holders, All Might's mission, was his to fulfill. Handling these villains were Izuku's duty.

         Hilarious. How after how much he'd grown, after everything he went through, he ended up right back to where he started. An 'other', an existence different from his peers, this time of his own volition and conviction instead of their stinging rejection. It'd been easy to blend into the shadows of the background and fade into the dark, presence plain and unnoticed back then. A practice and standard as easy as blinking rain water from eyes. Why was it now, when Izuku actually wanted it, that Kacchan appeared in the suffocating black silence, trying to dispel it with his vicarious, thunderous light ?

         ( let him detach, let him drift out of your orbit. it's for the best. no, anything but that )

         ❝ Shut up. I'm not trying to lie. ❞  A dull scratch layered his voice, weariness deep enough to penetrate clear in each syllable. It's a sluggish feeling needing more than a single night's rest within the branches of safety to remove.

         ( he hates being alone, tired and exhausted, but he can't ever stop )

         Maybe it made more sense to lay quiet. Let sleeping dogs lie in the shade rather than automatic snapping at the baiting prod. But he knew, they both did, that Izuku hated lying to him and Kacchan called him a liar anyway.

         Reminder brought attention to the sting once settled at home in a bruised cheek under the clean strip of gauze, failure imprinted upon freckled skin. A persistent memoir of his inability to win / of his oldest connection  ( breathless scarlet seared at the back of the mind — why / why / why you ?  and why was it me that ended our symbol of hope — a question he had no answer to, not one that could've began assuage the unseen turmoil )  making him eat dirt on concrete pavement. The weight of hiding the existence of his / All Might’s / One for All’s secret exchanged for the burden Kacchan had been suffering alone.

         With more at risk now, Izuku's own doubts remained numerous. AFO proved he could strike anywhere. Anytime. Kacchan's standing now, bared teeth and intentions, but the chance of being so lucky to get up and walk away when AFO took another swing was abysmal. The villain's next calculated strike may meet it's mark with precision and not merely graze the fragile, glass sculpture encompassing the flame of his friend's life. A furious burn itched the back of his eyes.

         Aloud, he murmured, ❝ ...It's my responsibility. Mine. You know already that I don't want any of you hurt because of me. ❞  That's what it boiled down to, didn't it ?  The crux of his stubborn resistance. His hands continue their momentum, carrying on his sentences through them: (  i'm afraid. [...] i want you all safe. not like what happened [...] before.  )

         Izuku was fine. It's the truth.

         It had to be.