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Entry tags:
monthly catch all!
WHO: Sakutarou Oda and you. Plus an added ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thesettingsun Shuji Tsushima in one prompt
WHERE: Dreamscapes! And beach time!
WHEN: Throughout July.
WHAT: July Catch-all!
WARNINGS: To be added as they come
1. Dreamscape
2. Beach! (ft.thesettingsun if you'd like!)
[ with summertime finally here, oda's going to take the time to visit the beach at least three times a week.
sometimes he'll be seen actually bathing in the beach, but most of the time he's just sitting on the sand, staring at the horizon or reading. and sometimes, shuji might be there, too, if you'd like to talk to the both of them! ]
thesettingsun Shuji Tsushima in one promptWHERE: Dreamscapes! And beach time!
WHEN: Throughout July.
WHAT: July Catch-all!
WARNINGS: To be added as they come
1. Dreamscape
- [ oda himself never seems to show much emotion when he finds someone visiting his dreams. at most, his eyes will widen if it's someone he knows-- he's not very into the idea of those he knows peering into his thoughts.
but oda will stay quiet and continue to spectate into his own dreams as you're pulled in. have fun. ]
a. [ it's raining.
even inside the bright café, the rain seems to bring down the mood of the establishment as it falls continuously. the scents of tea and coffee are strong, but not overwhelming. it's a peaceful place, in a melancholic sort of way.
but what stands out over everything else is the young teenager that speaks to a mustached, middle-aged man. on the boy's side of the coffee table are two books-- one closed, the other open. ]
Then, you write it. [ the voice is the older male's, who looks sternly at the teenager. ] That is the only way the novel can retain its completeness. Writing novels is about writing people. How people live and how they die. The way I look at it, you have that qualification.
[ the teenager looks at the mustached man with a surprised, yet empty, gaze ] Who are you?
[ what the mustached man says, nobody hears. not you nor oda. it might be the answer, or maybe it isn't. either way, the man leaves after that, leaving you and the boy alone in the coffee shop. ]
b. [ this dream is much different.
the giggle of children is the first thing you'll hear. five children rounded up and tied up in what seems to be a makeshift rope made out of a blanket. most of them giggle but the oldest, the ringleader, does not.
oda stands over him, expressionless. ]
You give up yet?
[ the answer is immediate ]
No I won't!
Then, let's have some Port Mafia-style torture. [ but before anyone thinks that it's going to be an awful dream, oda actually just...begins to tickle the boy. between tears and laughter, the boy surrenders almost immediately. the children are untied, and oda moves to the door to leave. ]
Next time we'll definitely beat you!
[ oda scoffs, lighthearted despite the lack of emotion in his expression ] I'll look forward to it.
2. Beach! (ft.
thesettingsun if you'd like!) [ with summertime finally here, oda's going to take the time to visit the beach at least three times a week.
sometimes he'll be seen actually bathing in the beach, but most of the time he's just sitting on the sand, staring at the horizon or reading. and sometimes, shuji might be there, too, if you'd like to talk to the both of them! ]
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[ He holds his hand out to the side, like he is gesturing to the various options that he has available to him. Like the two of them are on some game show. Chuckling to himself, he closes his eyes as he takes in the atmosphere. It has such a comfortable feeling to it. ]
I did not think that you could even remember anything that feels this way.
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he stays silent, but continues to stare blankly at kei, as if expecting him to continue. ]
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[ He props his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand as he carefully watches the teenager's face. His gaze drops down to the book and he smiles at how it appears to be something fond. ]
Well, then, might I give you advice on how to know people?
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[ why would he? there's no kei shigaraki in the memories of 'sakunosuke oda'. the teenager follows the older male's gaze. it's never good when someone knows him but he doesn't know them.
the hand on the guns on his lap shifts. if it comes to, he will not hesitate to shoot kei in the middle of the café. it'll be sad, considering this one is his favorite, but he can always find another one.
he'd rather not do it, though. so he shrugs. he doesn't care if kei advises him or not. ]
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[ He certainly notices that he keeps fidgeting and wonders what that happens to be about. Well, a strange man did come to sit down at his table and talk about quite a variety of things. ]
Anyway, you're very sharp and very good at seeing through the masks that people wear. The way to know people is to observe them, and interact with them. To find and care about them in some small, meaningless way. In doing so, you'll come to know them and be able to write a great variety of stories.
[ A chuckle. ] And find in them, yourself.
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[ the boy's gaze drops to the books on the table, before shaking his head with a sigh. that can't be right, what this person is saying. after all, he's nothing more than a hitman. there's no need to read through people or to care about them in any sort of way.
but it seems that the mustached man's words had some impact on the young odasaku. before, he would have refuted quickly, without any sort of emotion. but now he wavers, his mind wondering just for a second-- is there truth in that man's words? ]
Writing...I'm not qualified for that.
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[ He makes a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. His gaze becomes unfocused as he thinks of the older Oda -- and the man with his writing. Kei feels himself about ready to smile and chokes it back. His lips form into a forced frown as he closes his eyes. ]
You are. You probably are more qualified than anyone else, because you have an emptiness inside you that needs to be filled with something. Why not fill it with words that could mean something to others?
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[ the sigh that escapes his lips is full of weariness, as if the person kei's talking to is not a fourteen year old teenager but an old man who has seen too much. he is as empty as this man says, but he doesn't mind. he probably doesn't know how to mind in the first place.
this emptiness is all he has known. ]
A killer is not qualified to write about people.
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[ He decides to point that out as he smiles into the heel of his hand. His words are partially muffled and he chuckles to himself. This Oda from another world, another memory, is just as entertaining as the one that he knows. Here he was worried that he would find nothing of interest in a younger version of the man. ]
Your self-depreciation is just as bad as ever, I see, but you want to write, don't you? If you want it, then you have to work towards it.
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[ however, oda himself doesn't believe his own words entirely. there was something about that man, as if he had been staring through his soul, seeing much further than he could ever.
...no. how ridiculous.
either way, that person's presence was much more wanted than this one. oda can hear the chuckle, as faint as it may have been. he doesn't react, though. ]
Dreams can't be changed. [ aware of the situation, the younger oda sighs, moving his hand away from the gun and towards the book in order to begin reading it from when he left off. ] He's just as much of a killer as I am, even if he doesn't remember it.
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All he may be doing is ruining his own happiness. [ Another chuckle. ] Indeed, anything I do won't be able to change much for you. But I certainly would like you to have some ambition. [ Like maybe he should kick the chair out.
He laughs at the idea. ] After all, you're much more interesting when you desire something.
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[ oda doesn’t understand. even if it’s obvious that this man speaks of the owner of this dream, the teenager still parrots back the adjective as if it was unknown to him. ]
Ambitions... they bring trouble. Pain. Death, sometimes. [ he shakes his head ] I don’t want to deal with that outside of my jobs.
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[ He nods into his own hand. Oda is much more interesting when he desires something. Like the desires to hold onto the peace of his world, desires to protect something or someone. There are brief sparks of life that make him interesting and fill that emptiness inside of him with -- ]
Indeed, they bring trouble, but that's the point of ambition. You'll have to want something if you want to write. You'll have to have the ambition to create. If not, you're little more than a shadow that exists in this world to eventually have someone brighter burn you out.
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[ he shrugs, disinterested in kei's taunts. being a shadow, being burned out by someone else, it doesn't matter to him. he's meant to live in the shadows, as any assassin would.
if he touches the light, he's sure that it'll only end up hurting him too much. ]
I'm fine, the way I am.
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[ He shakes his head, dismissive the thought as he chuckles to himself. ]
You're comfortable the way you are. There's a difference. If you were truly happy like this, you'd not seek out anything to fill your empty existence.
[ So he says as he leans back, no longer resting on his hand. He hums before sweeping his arm across the table to let books and cups go clattering onto the floor, as they may. ]
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and yet, oda calmly watches the cup, plate, and two books go down on the floor with a clatter and thud. the porcelain cup and plate shatter, but luckily no coffee is spilled because it was already empty.
with just as much calmness, he reaches to pick up the books, and places them back on the table.
and then stares at kei again.]
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[ He looks very much like the cat that caught the canary, as he smiles at the teenager's blank expression. ]
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[ well, he stole them from the house of a victim, but that is TECHNICALLY like it being his. ]
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[ Excuse him as he knocks the books back off the table. ]
A shadow shouldn't be concerned about what is or isn't his, because these books too will one day fade and be rendered useless. So. Why hold them dear?
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this time, he places them on his lap. ]
Because they're interesting.
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[ His head cocks to the side as he seems almost disappointed that he can't keep knocking the books off. He thinks that if he should do so hard enough, maybe the spine will end up damaged. ]
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Are you mad?
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[ and he is, in fact, looking at kei with the same empty expression he's had throughout this whole conversation. ]
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Then, allow me to knock those books over a few more times, if you would.
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