This Is Still The Prettiest Thing I've Ever Written

This is still the prettiest thing I've ever written

When her expression changes to one of surprise, smile vanishing, Ryuji can't help the pang of worry in his stomach that he did something wrong.

Maybe he did, a part of him murmured, you did just make a scene then proceed to ask if she wanted clothing coupons in public, you know? Maybe that'd be embarrassing for her, both in the ways of her disliking such attentions; her efforts to keep her head down royally dashed by sheer virtue of her befriending of him, not to mention the metaverse as a whole; and in the ways of what thoughts it might inspire. ( while Ryuji hadn't first known, hadn't first realized, the concept passed right by him entire until pointed out with pen and paper like an assignment he missed the date for; how many others shared that first unawareness? how many other people would judge her for it? their peers so often tore her apart as it is, a feeling Ryuji was so familiar with. was this feeding the vultures? was it baiting them in? if not appearance in one way, then they would always find another. they would always find something different, they would always find something. )

for a split second, his center of gravity shuddered just enough to make his nerves feel shaken, and he tries not to look too worried. it was just surprise, and if she did turn it down, really turned it down, he could give them to someone else; the sentiment, hopefully, not a bad one. not a lost one. ━ but he hoped she'd take them. he couldn't know what it was like to be who she is trying to outlive who she used to be known by, but he wanted to help, even if he couldn't. wanted her happy, even if it was fleeting. he knew that always, always, she'd deserve that much. ( so he hoped she'd take them. he really hoped she'd take them... )

but Ryuji almost gets blindsided by his own momentary past self as he straightens out properly with his breath regained, not expecting to be caught red-handed in his half-step falter of language; he should've, Akari was quick, quicker than anything, and he finds himself kind of glad for it, but also a little embarrassed at being called out

" Oh! Uh.. " the bleached-blonde falters, not untruthfully, and scratches at the back of his head, openly unexpecting of it, as the other arm he holds the coupons with bends & lowers only slightly in his thought, the offer still blatantly on the table despite the motion " Reason I asked is 'cause, well… I wanted to know if you'd wanna go together! "

might as well be honest! ( double down! )

" I don't really know how to style an outfit like you or the others, a-and I don't know nothin' 'bout girl clothes, " Ryuji bounces his leg by the tip of his shoe, scraping it against the ground, bluntness overpowering the anxiety beneath it " but I like hanging out with you anyways, no matter what we do, and you deserve something nice! "

Ryuji's conviction of the statement is honest, heartfelt, unhesitating. he doesn't even need to think about it to believe it, like it's just a fact to him, like simple truth. he waggles the coupons like it's proving a point, flimsy paper slips shivering in the wind " and if I gave 'em to Ann, I'm pretty damn sure her closet would explode at this point… "

[Plotted Asks!]

@quillheel wrote in… »» " Hey, Akari-! " brazen as ever, like a bull in a china shop, you can hear the blonde before you see him. Ryuji manuevers, almost dance-like ( if not for how ungraceful he is ), around the groups of students departing from the academy. To his benefit, at the very least he's not toppled anyone over… this time. ducking, weaving, before hopping haphazardly on one leg, a backpack of supplies hooked on his arm wild with momentum, to part through a gap of people and at last make it to Akari. He's as bright as ever, though red in the face from the strain & speed of himself, frame shaking with heavy breathing. he hunches, hands on knees, to catch his breath. He seems not to care as people stare, just a little, at the commotion. " H-hey━ sorry about that, I uh- I wanted to ask if you were free today-? Real last second, I-I know, but━ " Well, that explains the seeming bid for attention: it was. like Akari's time would be snatched up if he wasn't fast enough. ( some days, that was true… ). he digs out two slips of paper from his bag, and waves them like evidence, reason to his social crime. " ━ wound up getting coupons for that one clothes place down the way, in Shibuya, and they expire in a couple of days so I-I wanted to ask if- " come on, spit it out! " if you wanted em-! " ━ damn! he meant to ask to go together, even if Ryuji didn't know his head from his feet in fashion, but… ah well, it's the heart that counts, right? as long as Akari had the chance to get something she liked, it was worth it either way.

The moment Akari heard the all-familiar, less-than-inside voice beckon to her, the moment she dared to turn around--she half-expected to witness some poor soul get trampled over by the incoming stampede headed in her immediate direction. However, she would be humbled in her assumption--surprisingly so, don't get her wrong--as she instead caught a showing of Ryuji attempting to hop, skip, and jump his way over to her, somehow avoiding the outcome she'd predicted.

"Ryuji, you know that you could have just said my name and I would have waited for you... right?" There's a shake of her head, but she did have to stiff a small huff of laughter. There was no reason to make such a showing, but in a twisted way, she was glad he did.

Embarrassing? Oh, yes--everyone within the vicinity was now staring into their very souls. Weirdly amusing and worth watching? Also yes.

However, when he'd expressed his intentions further, Akari's little grin had faded for an immediate reaction of surprise. She blinked a few times under her glasses, both at the invitation, and, of course, at the two tiny sheets within the blonde's grip. Coupons... for a clothing store? And, judging by his own language, he acquired these at his own leisure, and not by any sort of random chance.

Yes, extremely unlike Ryuji. To the point where she's still wearing that expression by the time she spoke again. Her thumb and index slowly trailed downward over the strap of her bag; Morgana must have jumped out at some point, maybe when he heard Ryuji coming...? He definitely would have said something less-than-ideal by now if he were present.

"A... are you sure you wouldn't want to give these to Ann?" Ann was the actual fashionista of the group, after all--surely she was the better candidate. And yet... here he was, offering them to her instead.

She... wasn't quite sure if she should be the one accepting these, out of all people... and not merely due to her lack of fashion. So, she would not extend her hand to accept them just yet.

"...You asked if I was free?" Surely it wasn't related to this, right? Ryuji didn't quite strike her as the type to enjoy that kind of shopping.

If you don’t mind another request, could you do a (junkpit) Godseeker??

godseeker!! i like her design very much :))

life is a joke and death is the punchline

hungover in jonestown - amigo the devil // photography by melih dönmezer

The haze over her vision clears as she comes to, eyes spiraling her skull in their dizziness. The first thing she sees is soft, candle-lit light, and smoke that gently rose from a crackling fire at the center of the hut she'd woken in. Mari is strewn neatly across a bed, her body feeling stiff as a rock, as if she'd hit something hard and fast before waking up. She groans in response to muffled, incoherent voices that steadily become clearer the more that she wakes. She finds just enough strength to turn her head and stare drowsily at whoever else occupied the room, looking as spaced out as a slowpoke in a coma. | for adaman!

Some of the times he checked up on her, he almost couldn't believe she was still alive.

At first, they hadn't thought it'd been the case. The body worn and broken, harsh under the gravity of the world hauling into the earth, before someone felt the cold strawberry skin of her nose and realized that it still drew air, breath turned to mist when warmed enough to do it. Lucky, that her landing close enough to spot in the frosting river reeds of the mirelands, to rouse ruckus, to be hauled back. Lucky, that her landing was softened, perhaps, by the mud & the foliage & the tension of that crackling frenzy in the air that might've spat her out in the first place. They'd not have been able to save her, as autumn rolled in on itself further into summer's sleep, if she stayed out there too long.

A story Adaman recalls to himself as he overlooks her; a duty, in a way, to himself to ensure, to manage, to see. Each day, she continued. Each day, an anticipation. He doubted it to be one of Galaxy's, the clothes too different, the person too unknown. Not theirs, but whose? who, where, what did she come from?

A secret to be answered in time. He tried not to get his hopes up that it'd be answered at all. Even if she hadn't died yet, a fall like that rarely goes without aftershocks.

It's late by the time consciousness dribbles back into bones. The smell of herbs through the warmed air, something bubbling atop fire, the sound of fabric and skin shuffling as he moved, attentive and slow, as he spoke to the more medically wise who'd been attending her. he'd offered to take the responsibility to look after her while they rested, with only so much to be done, that could be done. Easiness in his voice, reassurances, then goodbyes as he attended to the broth. ( a family recipe, one said to bring new life. he liked to think, even slightly, that it could help... )

It's only when the two left that dark eyes flick over, her breathing turning harsher with unconsciousness slipping back, and see her coming to. The task dropped, the sound of Adaman's robes shuffling is quick as knees shuffle in a scurry to her side, searching for something over her form; over her face. How long has the stranger been asleep? ( the answer comes instantly, second sight, second intuition. 4 days, 19 hours, 42 minutes. like clockwork, like divine knowingness. )

Sinnoh, he was glad to see any life at all, regardless of how distant she was now.

" Come on... Come on... You've got it... " the words are a soft wind through teeth as he leans a little closer as though trying to make it easier for her to recognize, one hand's knuckles pressed into the edges of the mat, her old clothes folded nearby. It's as a hand reaches, soft in the open air nearby, that he sees the white of her eyes; regardless of how distant; and relief takes him only for a moment. Perhaps pride, bubbling beneath the surface, at the other having drew breath long enough to do it at all. a complete stranger, and yet, still they lived.

" There you are. " a subtle congratulation he doesn't expect to be felt as the reaching fingers make purchase, gently at the side of her face, the other joining it's brother, slipping under her other cheek as he gently lifts her head, thumbpads lightly pulling taught the edge of the eye where crows feet would one day linger as Adaman studies her face, her eyes, looking for something unknowable.

It's unclear if he's found it after the moment passes, and he carefully sets her head down to rest back 'pon the cushioning beneath, gingerly, as he softly speaks not fully intending for Mari to listen, " Hey, Stranger. We thought you were a goner. Glad to see you prove me wrong. "

To Be Haunted, Jessie Lynn McMains