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animeomegas · 3 years

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Omega!Kaidou Headcanons

Anon: Ooooh can you do omega kaido hcs?

(Aww, I love Kaidou, he is baby. I just finished all my uni work for the week so I jumped to write this! Enjoy!)

Warnings: N-sfw under cut, mpreg, talk of insecurities.

General:

Kaidou is quite an insecure omega. Especially as a teenager.

Honestly, he has probably tried to masquerade as a beta before, and wished many times that he was an alpha like his younger brother and sister.

A lot of his façade as the ‘Jet Black Wings’ is a defence mechanism because of his insecurities and him being an omega fuels that.

Kaidou can be wary around alphas he doesn’t know, so it’s likely that you were friends first and romantic a long time afterwards.

When you are finally mates/almost mates, you see a completely different side to Kaidou.

He is incredibly touch starved. He loves cuddles and pets. He’ll take any affection you dish out. He especially loves resting his head on your lap or on your shoulder.

Kaidou wants to be an author when he’s older, and he has never had anyone support his dream. When you offer your support for him, he falls in love with you right then and there. That’s when he knew he wanted you to be his alpha.

His scent is light and flowery, with a hint of citrus.

Kaidou purrs a lot without realising and it always embarrasses him when you point it out. He purrs everytime you scent him, croon, cuddle him, etc.

Kaidou is a very sweet omega who is a dedicated and loving mate and parent.

Nesting:

As a teenager, Kaidou never gets to the point where he likes his nest.

He wants a super cool nest! A combo between a ‘secret lair’ style and a ‘pinterest’ style nest.

He wants a room dedicated to his nest, preferably with a hidden entrance. He wants a super powerful colour scheme with cool posters but he also wants fairy lights and pastel blankets.

Kaidou has lots of cuddly toys but he gets embarrassed about it and won’t admit it.

In fact, cuddly toys are his favourite courting gifts to receive, but he will always pretend that he think toys are for little kids, but you can see how tightly he cradles the toy, and if you scent the teddy first, you can even hear him purring.

As an adult, Kaidou really wants his dream nest, but he feels guilty spending so much money on it. It’s up to his alpha to encourage him.

When he has pups, they think his nest is the coolest thing ever, and they tell all the other kids at school because it has a hidden door! And beanbags! And a mini fridge! And it’s way better than your omega parent’s nest!!

Kaidou is very protective of his nest. He only lets you and his pups inside. No one else. He doesn’t even like when someone figures out where it is in his home.

This causes some conflict because he would love to give birth in his nest, but he would never be able to invite a midwife or doctor inside.

You clutched a small bat plushie in you hands as you walked into your classroom. You had bought it for Kaidou on a whim yesterday on your way home from school. This was hardly the first time you had given him a courting gift, but this was the first one that had your scent on it.

“Holy shit.” You whispered to yourself. “You can do this, don’t be nervous.”

You saw Kaidou immediately. He was sitting on top of his desk, chatting with Hairo and Nendou. You huffed. You would have preferred him to be alone but you guess that couldn’t be helped now.

“Hey, Shun...” You started, awkwardly sliding up beside him.

He startled slightly, a blush settling on his cheeks.

“Oh! Hey... Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I, um.” You pulled the bat toy out of your pocket, shoving it vaguely in his direction. “This is for you.”

Kaidou gently took it from your hands, eyes wide. He turned it over, running a finger over the fake fangs. You saw the moment he realised you had scented it. He looked up at you in shock before turning and sniffing absentmindedly at the toy, purrs beginning to sneak out.

You puffed up in pride. Watching your intended mate accept and enjoy your gift with such fervour filled your heart with joy.

“HA HA!” Interrupted Nedou. “Kaidou’s purring!”

The purrs stopped immediately, Kaidou turned bright red, shoving the toy into his bag.

“I AM NOT! Shut up!”

The two began to bicker, Nedou laughing over Kaidou’s agressive denial.

You were vaguely embarrassed that Kaidou’s friends had seen you give him a courting gift, but mostly you were pleased by his acceptance of your first serious courting gift. Giving someone your scent to put in their nest was a big deal after all.

Family + pups

When you decide to court Kaidou, he will try and keep you as far away from his mother as he can. Unfortunately, this doesn’t last long, because his mother just orders him to bring you over and he can’t say no to his terrifying alpha mother.

Kaidou is unbelievably nervous throughout the whole meeting. He knows his mother will order him to end the courtship if she doesn’t approve.

His mother’s opinion depends a lot of how well spoken, intelligent and ambitious Kaidou’s intended alpha is.

If you have good grades, can match her successfully in conversation, and are preparing to apply to a good university, she will adore you.

(it’s best just to lie if you aren’t those things).

Kaidou’s mother is a very hands on grandparent when the time comes. She always take your pup(s) when Kaidou is in heat and you in rut. She also helps pay for tutors and arranges academic help for all her grandchildren.

Kaidou wants at least one pup but no more than three pups.

He is such a sweet parent.

He never, ever makes fun of his pups. He always treats their problems seriously and loves them for who they are.

He’s the kind of parent who jumps at the opportunity to support his kids hobbies. Writing, martial arts, painting, cooking, whatever they love, he makes sure they can do it.

Kaidou makes an excellent stay-at-home parent. He loves spending time with his pup(s) and working on writing the book he wants to write.

Family cuddles are a scheduled weekly event. He is distraught if, when his pups get older, they don’t partake in the family cuddles every week.

It took Kaidou quite a few tries to get pregnant, and he ended up getting very stressed about it, thinking something was wrong with him. Luckily, it eventually happened for you both.

When he was pregnant, Kaidou didn’t have many symptoms, but he was very tired and hungry all the time.

He needed help to do most things because he was so tired, but he felt like a burden, so didn’t ask for help. This changes in his second pregnancy (if he has one). He needs to have help with your other pup(s) when he’s pregnant because he’s too tired to look after them fulltime.

It would make more sense for you to wait until your first pup was in school before trying for a second one, just to take the pressure off of Kaidou somewhat.

The night’s peace was broken by a tentative knock at your bedroom door. You startled slightly, starting to sit up, Kaidou also stirring in your arms. The door handle turned slowly, the silhouette of you oldest son was revealed, along with the quiet sound of sniffling.

Before you could even process what you were seeing, Kaidou had yanked himself out of your arms and thrown himself towards your crying pup.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Kaidou panicked, hands flitting over your pup as if to check for injuries.

“Nightmare.” Your pup whined, beginning to sob and he held his arms out for a hug.

Kaidou whined with him, quickly and firmly pulling him into his embrace. Kaidou then stood up, cradling your pup in his arms, rocking him back and forth.

“Why don’t you sleep with us tonight, pup?” You said, voice still heavy with sleep, gesturing for Kaidou to get back into bed. It was freezing after all.

Kaidou didn’t need any more prompting and slipped back under the covers you were holding up for him. As he settled down, your pup quickly grabbed at your shirt, holding it tightly in his fist. You brushed your hand over his tiny one before settling your hand on his back, rubbing up and down to help soothe him. You could no longer see his face (it was buried in your mate’s chest), but you could still hear his sniffling.

“What was your nightmare about, sweetheart? Must have been scary, huh?” You asked as Kaidou began scenting the top of your son’s head.

“Yeah. W’s scary.” Came the muffled voice of your pup.

In lieu of a reply, you pulled both him and Kaidou more closely against your chest.

“Nothing can happen while you’re here with us, okay. You’re safe.” You kept rubbing his back as he finally started to settle. Eventually, his breathing evened out and he relaxed fully against you and Kaidou, his grip on your shirt loosening.

“I feel so useless when he has nightmares.” Kaidou admitted, breaking the hush. “I can’t protect him from them.”

You shifted slightly to look him in the eye.

“You’re protecting him right now, my love. This is what he needs from you and you’re so good at it. You’re such a good parent, Shun.” Kaidou blushed faintly. “I fall in love with you all over again everytime I see you with our pups.”

Kaidou smiled slightly, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I just want him to be happy.”

“I know.” You replied, placing a kiss on his head. “Me too.”

You started to drift off to sleep as silence descended on the room.

“Thanks.” Kaidou murmured.

Too tired to reply, you squeezed him lightly with your arms. It saddened you that your amazing parent of a mate still felt insecure four years into parenthood, but you were just going to have to keep telling him otherwise until he started to see himself as you saw him.

N-SFW under cut (ft. Slightly!Older!Kaidou)

Kaidou always, always needs after sex cuddles. It helps relax him, quiet his insecurities and is equally as enjoyable as the sex in his opinion.

Kaidou is a big subby baby, and he needs cuddles for his aftercare or he can feel very rejected.

Do you remember the episode where Kaidou came last in every event of the physical fitness test, but came first in flexibility? Kaidou is extremely flexible and he loves to show it off in bed. He’s very proud of all the positions he can bend into.

Kaidou loves dressing up in lingerie. He feels pretty and confident when he’s wearing lace lingerie. He looks best in pastel blue (it matches his hair), but honestly, he pulls off all pastel shades very well.

Along a similar vein, Kaidou finds it very embarrasing but very hot to look at himself in the mirror while you have sex. It requires a lot of praise though, as he can be quite insecure.

In heat, Kaidou is absolutely shameless. He will beg and plead and whine and nuzzle you to get you into his nest with him.

Kaidou is weak to hickeys on his neck, especially around his scent glands. He doesn’t give many hickeys, but he is prone to leaving scratch marks on your back and shoulders.

This man is very sensitive in a lot of areas. His nipples and the inside of his thighs are very soft and particularly sensitive.

He hates pain though. He is neither a masochist nor a sadist and thinks that pain has no place in love making.

Kaidou likes a little bit of roleplay but he’s way to embarrassed to bring it up. You have to wait until you’ve been in a relationship with him for years before he feels comfortable enough to bring it up. He is interested in teacher/student and master/slave style roleplays. He enjoys playing the part of someone else, because it makes him feel more comfortable in embracing his sexuality outside his heat.

“I’m-I’m coming out now. Don’t laugh, okay?”

You shook you head fondly.

“I’m not going to laugh at you, baby. You always look gorgeous, don’t forget that.”

The bathroom door opened and Kaidou shuffled out, clad in the new pastel blue lingerie set you had ordered for him last week.

You lost your breath just looking at him.

He was wearing sheer knee socks with little bows, held up by the garter belt sitting snugly on his waist. On top, he was wearing a lacy bralette, completely see through of course. Your favourite piece however, was undoubtedly the little blue panties. You could see the fabric bulging, straining against his erection. Looking a little closer, you noticed a small damp spot. You grinned. For all his complaining, he certainly enjoyed this a lot. You haven’t even touched him yet.

Kaidou shifted under your hungry gaze, feeling a little like your prey. He shivered at the thought.

You moved to kneel on the ground before him, pressing wet, open mouth kisses over his thighs and tummy. Kaidou steadied himself by gripping onto your shoulders. You could feel his nails making small grooves in your skin.

When you reached his chest, you began to suck and bite at his nipples through the lacey fabric, delighting in his moans and whimpers. He was always so sensitive for you.

“So beautiful.” You panted, breathing heavily against him.

“M’ not. Not beautiful.” Kaidou denied, eyes clenched shut.

You growled in response, biting him lightly on the shoulder.

“Don’t you dare. You’re breath-taking, Shun. Stunning. Gorgeous. Perfect.” You emphasised every word with a suck or a bit on his neck. You wouldn’t stop until he learnt to love himself as much as you loved him.

“Okay, baby, get on the bed. We have a long night ahead.” You made a point to crash your hips into his. “I’m going to show you how beautiful you are.”

#saiki k #disastrous life of saiki k #kaido shun #shun kaidou #omega kaidou #omega!Kaidou #alpha reader #Alpha!Reader #imagine #reader insert #x reader #headcanon #n-sfw #abo #omegaverse #male omega #gn alpha #female alpha #male alpha

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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Leorio, Hisoka, Illumi, and Chrollo Head Canons #2

What’s up y’all! Thank you so much to the people who have given me feedback about what posts you all would like to see! This post will be about the “Adult Trio” and Leorio about how they would help their significant other with a subject in college. This one is a good suggestion! I’m going to incorporate fluff in this, as I am a sucker for fluff. I hope you all enjoy this! I most certainly do. This post is about 2687 words but don't worry, it's worth the read! These head canons came from my mind its a coincidence that some of these pictures match the thoughts. Portentous (old English) means wonderful or marvelous (in modern English) FYI: I am thinking about creating a discord server for both Voltron and Hunter x Hunter fans. I don’t know how to use the fancy perks of discord yet, so if you know how to and can help me out, send me a message! Alright, let’s get to it! Obviously these images are from Pinterest.

Discord Server for Voltron and HxH fans!

Leorio

“Mr. Leorio”, as we all know, is a sharp guy. He dresses in a suit, carries a suitcase, and wants to be a doctor. This man knows everything about academics, especially math and science. He will need to know these subjects to be a successful medical doctor.

Leorio received an A- in Calculus II and a B+ in Organic Chemistry. He was the only one that passed with flying colors while everyone else barely made it. He didn’t gloat in their faces but as soon as he got into the hallway he jumped for joy.

He was extremely happy about his progress and counted the days until graduation even though that was in 5 years. Wow! Don’t we love graduate school?!

He deserved the high grades because he spent countless nights studying missing parties, football games, and being with you just to make sure he was on the right track to graduating on time.

As we all know, Leorio wanted to pursue this career because he witnessed his best friend dying in front of him powerless to save him. The care for his friend would have been too expensive. Obtaining his degree was in honor of his friend; he’d save countless children, women, and men who’d all thank him for his hard work.

Leorio didn’t socialize much, but he did find himself hanging around a group of classmates that were a part of a co-ed fraternity that provided information on scholarship money for graduate school and job opportunities. This is where he met you. You didn’t want to be a doctor but instead wanted to be a computer scientist and decided to volunteer for this fraternity job fair.

As he rejoiced, his smile faded when he saw you walking down the hallway; tears falling from your face not caring who stared at you. He quickly walked up to you, put his arm around your back, and gave you a soft hug.

“What’s the matter,” he asks.

You were failing Calculus, a class you’ve been taking since the 12th grade but for some reason, you couldn’t pass it. Everyone else had A’s and B’s, while you had a D. D’s aren't accaetable in college; most make you retake the class.

“Don’t worry. I’ve just passed my midterm. I can help you study. You’ll pass; trust me.”

Later on that evening, he kept his promise but gave it a unique twist. He kept the lights off and lit 4 Yankee-sized candles in the room that smelled like Lavender. In the background, he had piano jazz playing on his speaker. You felt confused for a moment. You and Leorio weren’t necessarily dating but you both flirted with each other here and there. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he felt comfortable talking to you.

“Um...what’s the music for?”

“It helps me concentrate. Believe it or not, it helps my brain flow. You like it don’t you?”

“No, actually I don’t.” Truth be told you loved it but you wanted to pull his strings a little. He looked up with a confused look.

“Ok. I’ll turn it off.”

“I'm kidding! It’s great!”

Whenever he cannot solve a Calculus question, he reviews similar problems from Algebra II. He applies this knowledge to your problem.

“Perform the indicated function evaluations for f(x)=3−5x−2x^2 . I’ll solve the first part for an example: f(6+t) simply means you will exchange “x” for 6+t. It will look like f(6+t)=3-5(6+t)-2(6+t)^2=-49 . You’d distribute -5 and -2 to the numbers inside of the brackets in which they are next to.”

Wow, that was easy! Wait, not he must think you’re stupid.

“You must think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“Of course not! It took me a while to understand it too. You’ll apply the same knowledge for the rest.”

After what seemed like 4 hours (which was 2), you finally finished your homework! It was probably wrong but at least you made it past the 1st question! As you blew out the candles and turned on your LED lights instead, you see Leorio sleeping on your couch. Something about his soft face made you smile and place your hand over your heart.

“My little doctor,” you whispered to yourself.

“Well, come give this doctor some company then. I’m freezing over here!”

The throw blanket was large enough for you both. Snuggling on the couch was a great end to a stressful day.

Chrollo

To everyone else Chrollo was “Boss” or “Boss Man” but to you, he was Chrollo. Big C was known for his love for poetry and language.

He read poetry any chance he had at lunch and even dinner. It had gotten so bad that you had to tell him for the millionth time “No books at the table!”

Given his past, he always read at least 2 hours a day or one book a week. Reading is what got him through the day.

He was staying in your dorm for the day to relax because he had taken and passed his midterms to. The young thief thought about hiding in the closet but he didn’t because he sensed that you’d be tense because of midterms.

As you walked through the door, you looked angry, so angry that you could punch a wall. He immediately rose to his feet, threw his arms straight out in front of him, and motioned for you to stop. You just stared at him blankly.

“Come here,” he said like you, on cue, melted in his arms. He was warm and the deepness of his cooing voice vibrated against your neck. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m failing this stupid Shakespeare class!”

“Really?”

“Yes and if I don’t pass this midterm I’m going to fail the class for the 3rd time. I want to drop out! Who needs this scam anyway?!”

Chrollo held you a bit longer until you were ready to sit down and get to business. You pulled out your college’s book about Shakespeare plays and how he used Old English. Chrollo was the perfect man for the job! He’s read Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet several times!

Chrollo read a few stanzas and explained them. He then had you read some on your own and explain them...still you can’t.

He notices the problem immediately. He catches you snuggling comfortably against his toned arm, nearly falling asleep.

Chrollo laid at the very corner of the couch as you lay horizontally placing your head against his chest. You were comfortable but you weren’t able to focus. He notices this and slightly demands that you go sit at the table. When it came to academics, he was serious.

For as long as he had been reading, he has an arsenal of vocabulary words ready to be of use. He created flashcards for you and had you flip them over for nearly an hour. You start to memorize the words!

But you’re not done yet.

“Say the word ‘portentous’.”

“Por-ten-trious…?”

“No. Por-ten-tas.”

“Tias…?”

He moved his chair next to you, just an inch away from your face. He cups your mouth and moves it as he speaks again. This wasn’t a hard clutch, it was soft and he wasn’t irritated but he could sense that you were becoming irritated.

“Por-ten-tas,” he said again.

Instead of letting your cheeks go, his eyes diverted to your lips. They were moist and plump, ready to be met by his.

“Your lips are gorgeous. Kisseth me quite quaint.”

Oh no. Look at the monster you’ve created.

Chrollo created a reward system. Whenever he did things right as a child, he was rewarded with money and jewels. For every word you pronounced and defined correctly, he kissed you once. For each word you got correct in a row, he’d kiss you twice.

Soon enough he had kissed you so much that you couldn’t see straight!

The kisses worked because you passed your midterm! Each kiss placed a stain in your brain that made you remember the definition and how to pronounce it.

You and Chrollo celebrated by drinking champagne and listened to him read Sonnet 23 and 57.

Hisoka

As unusual as it seems, Hisoka is gifted when it comes to Chemistry specifically. That is why you two work well together...there is some chemistry going on between you two.

His hair down and his glasses were his alter ego, it was something that made him act completely different than what you were used to.

When you all were freshmen, he would skip class, attend parties, and would be hungover almost every week but once he was called into the Dean’s office, he changed.

You slightly missed that edgy side of him, but you enjoyed having a serious beau.

Hisoka is a social butterfly and is the life of the conversation and you loved him for it but sometimes it was awkward.

While he was chatting away about Calcium (Ca) and Iron (Fe), you stood there nodding like an idiot. You had NO IDEA about what he was talking about and that is why you were going to drop your chemistry class.

“I saw an imbecile put aluminum foil in the microwave and it burst into flames. How did they not know that Microwaves are the radio waves falling under frequency around 2500 megahertz? Any metallic object detected by radio waves inside the microwave acts as a reflector of radio waves.”

You shove his arm hard. He was acting arrogant in front of his friends. You were used to this but it got on your nerves. You made mistakes, everyone does!...even those that almost burn down the entire dorm room.

You two leave the party and head to his dorm room. Once you were settled, you released a can of anger and threw it all over your boyfriend.

“Hisoka? You just humiliated me.”

“Oh? No one knows that I was talking about you, my dear.”

“Don’t ‘my dear’ me! I asked for your help and you’re ignoring me. I don’t appreciate that. I didn’t ignore you when you sprained your ankle, did I?”

“No, you didn’t, dear. I supposed I have a few hours to kill. What do you need help with?”

Hisoka’s way of studying was much different from other students. He exercises like crazy before he opens his textbook.

He listens to EDM instrumentals while on the treadmill and when he lifts weights. You weren’t standing there like a trophy, he made you lift too.

“Being healthy will help your brain flow more easily. Lift this dumbbell as heavy as you can.”

He ran a mile on the track upstairs. Sweat dripped from his face like he had been standing outside in the rain.

By the time you returned to his dorm, you were beyond tired. You laid your head on his pillow but just as you closed your eyes, he pulled you up on your feet.”

“Not on my watch,” he tutted. “It’s chemistry time.”

You were having trouble memorizing Chemical Formulas and this by far was the most difficult concept you had come across.

To make you stay awake, he turned on a bright LED light and faced it towards the table. The bright light nearly made your head fall off from the pain it reflected in your eyes.

Hisoka grabbed his book and began to write down the major chemicals on the periodic table and their charges.

“Pay attention to the following abbreviations and charges: Calcium is Ca, Chloride is Cl+2, Carbide is C+2, and Carbon Dioxide is CO+2. Read these over and I’ll test you again.”

He did just that but you still weren’t understanding. You were ready to give up.

Stupid scam. Why do I need a piece of paper to determine what I can do? You thought to yourself. Well, it’s obvious. If you can’t do the work now, what makes you think you can do it at a job? Harsh, I know.

“Let me try this,” He said. He carried you to his bedroom and gently placed you on it. He took off his shirt and removed his glasses. “Aluminum has a charge of +3 and Oxygen has -2. If there were three of me and two of my clones disappeared, how many of me are left?”

“Just you, right? One”

“Correct! Excellent.”

Wow, everything started making sense once he took his shirt off.

From then, he just inserted himself into the equation and then it started to make sense! He apologized for running his mouth earlier and promised to keep any more secrets between you two. The night ended with you sleeping in his bed wrapped in a cotton blanket just cuddling and that was it. And bam! You slept as sound.

Illumi

Dating the “hot” quiet history buff was a flex of its own. Sure Illumi didn’t talk to anyone besides you, but it didn’t matter. People swooned if he looked in their direction.

History was a popular major during your era. People were not like their grandparents; they wanted to learn about other cultures besides their own. Illumi’s specialty was in world history and civilizations. The class was very interesting to you but there was so much information, you could barely process it.

Illumi often wrote his essays in one day proofread and all! He often charged people to look their essays over.

One time he made $500 in one year!

Glancing at your transcripts, he notices that you have a C- and offers to help.

“Why are you looking through my stuff?”

Hey, he’s your boyfriend! But still, he should ask.

“Sorry. It was up on the screen,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

You began to blush in embarrassment. The hottest smartest man in the building now knew that you were failing one of the easiest classes on campus.

Placing his thumb under your chin, he lifted your head to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can help you.”

“How? I am so behind! I zoned out after chapter 2!”

“We’ll watch a movie.”

“Oh, God! Not one from PBS is it?!”

“Yes. How else are you supposed to learn?”

He turns on the movie and allows you to lay your head on his shoulder but not too much. He is aware of your tricks and he wants you to pay attention.

Every 15 minutes, he pauses the movie and asks you checkpoint questions. If you got them wrong, you had to stand up with your underclothes on (t-shirt and shorts) in the cool room for 10 minutes. If you got the questions right, he allows you to lay more comfortably. You were already in your underclothes but you were under the blanket.

He made you write down key definitions and the embarrassment of each section.

After the movie, he blindfolds you and reads out a term. Surprisingly, you got them all correct!

As a reward for your past midterm, he takes you to dinner at a restaurant where he slips a promise ring on your finger containing your birthstone.

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iicytodoroki · 3 years

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『satoru gojo x reader x suguru geto』

masterlist

a/n: i think it’d be more helpful to have “y/n” as the nickname; the written portion is just more background, technically you can skip to the sm!au portion

part one - besties after food

year 2005

“Onii-san…?”

“Keiko, glad you could come.” My older brother greeted me as his face was buried under files with strands of midnight, black hair curtaining his onyx eyes.

“I wanted to ask how’s school for you,” he continued with fatigue lacing his voice.

“Well, I’m here at home and the tutors are quite—attentive—to academic progress,” I responded.

“Of course, well you see...as you know I am starting my official position and I thought it would be better if you decide what you want to do now that you will be expected to go to secondary school.”

I was dumbstruck. What does he mean I decide what I want to do?

“Apologies Kei, its…,” his eyes were barely focused on the mountainous documents. Icould hear a sigh before Shinji shifted in his chair to finally look at my (e/c) eyes.

“Sorry Kei, let me rephrase a bit,” his lanky, calloused hands held on to my right hand that was folded on my lap, “I know we’ve—you—have been stuck here in the compound since the day you were born...due to our circumstances. I also know you have been secretly training after hours with the advice of Principal Yoshinobu since we discovered your ability.”

At that my eyes widened in fear. It was not the will of the other big families’ elders I were to train as a sorcerer since it is more “beneficial” and “safer” to be tucked away from the world and pass my cursed energy and techniques down the line “like any good wife.”

That was true. I was told growing up, my brother as the future head and me as a highly potential, powerful wife. Of course basic defense and manipulation of cursed energy was taught, but beyond towards becoming a shaman was banned. There were only two Hideos. One Hideo already trained and became a Grade 1 sorcerer already. Another must be safe in case of emergency. In need for an heir. Especially after The Accident.

Interrupting my thoughts of planning an excuse, Shinji continued, “But, I am not angry. Rather impressed you hid this from the elders for over 10 years and conducted your training on your own.”

“Onii-san, you...knew?”

Shinji’s eyes shined in affection as he softly smiled at me, “Yes, it was coincidence I woke up from a nightmare to hear your quiet breathing techniques in the hidden garden when you were in first grade.”

At that I had no words. Does this mean he’s okay with it…?

“Now that you know that I know,” he took a deep breath as he let go of your hand to walk to the back of his desk, “I proposed you should be free to train as a sorcerer at the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, of course they were not fond of the idea; but, I argued that it is waste for a rare potential to just wait to pass it down the family.”

I thought for a moment, in shock of possible liberation.

“Wait, Onii-san, does that mean–”

“Yes,” he answered for me, “I will longer be an active sorcerer and completely devote myself to the Hideo family.”

I knew it. Shinji was sacrificing his job for me. Shinji and I both knew we didn’t like the weight that was chained to us at birth, but it’s inevitable since its our fate.

But how can he, who became a Semi-Grade 1 Sorcerer at age 13, and give it all up to be stuck here and become a husband as soon as they find a suitable bride? How can he just give up his life like some puppet. Just to bare a child and—

“Keiko, look at me,” Shinji saw the stress in my eyes. He gently grabbed my face in his hands to face him, “I know. I know. Do not blame yourself. I have lived and experienced what it is like to not be trapped here and...you should, too. You, Keiko, had always been the one protecting me. Ever since we were children, you—you always made sure the elders knew you would be here as the proper Hideo while I went out and risked my life and-and trained how I always dreamed. All in the exchange of you all alone here, surrounded in a remote bamboo forest, constantly studying to be a proper wife and pressured to marry and bear children for your husband. Y-you have been so selfless for me and I barely took notice of your isolation. You lived with this opposition thinking it’s normal and its ‘your destiny that you cannot change’.”

I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. I could tell Shinji didn’t want to look away, because if he did, he would cry even more.

“I-I can’t imagine the pressure and loneliness you must’ve felt while I was away all these years. Just communicating through minimal letters. So young and—“

He finally choked a sob before he hugged me. I knew what he was referring to. It took me forever to realize it, too.

Shinji blamed himself for everything that has happened. But I always told him it’s not his fault. The lessons I had to learn here were...necessary… for me, Hideo Keiko. I know he’s thinking back to that time when he had a surprise visit, and I tried to cover it up and never tell him. Because if I did, he would immediately come back home and face the same fate as me. At least then, one of us could live happily. Even for a little bit.

I just buried my face in his shoulder as I hugged him back in mutual comfort. After a few moments of reassurance that all is in the past now, he asked me, “So, would you like to transfer to a real school?”

year 2005

fun facts:

at the time, when keiko was around the age of four, most adults disregarded her prescence except yoshinobu who was curious about the rare second child

satoru and y/n immediately started trouble in the arcade like fighting over ddr

keiko “y/n” was very nervous for her first day that she lowkey stalked her new classmates’ online profile to know how to converse informally

taglist (open):

@dionnaea

#sprry for grammar errors but thats just part of the texting charm am i right??#omg i did it again ughh my bad like fr #satoru gojo x reader x suguru geto #never will smau #satoru gojo #suguru geto #ieiri shoko #jujutsu kaisen smau #jujutsu kaisen fic #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader

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min-youngis · 3 years

Text

Pray Tell - k.ji

me, after making my own ugly ass banner, bc it is my own: :DDD

~ Pairing : Kim Jongin x Reader

~ Genre : Fluff, Comfort, Humour, SuggestiVe

~ Summary : Tired and can't sleep? Show up at your boyfriend's house at night with no warning to receive love, a massage, and then some of this and that.

Established Relationship

~ Word Count : 2,606

~ Warnings : oh boy where to start uhh emotional constipation, shirtlessness, swearing, very suggestive like more than anything i've ever written before if u know me irl pls never talk to me about this we shall simply pretend it does not exist, descriptions of his hands sorry i've been practicing exo simp core for the last few weeks, massage description, innuendos but they're funny i swear, i have a banner draft saved in which the title is holy water, there is nothing explicit but this is scary bc i am: babie, tq that is all

~ A/N : me? getting obsessed with exo and beginning to write for them in the middle of a) my academic calendar and b) the exo drought itself? it's more likely than you think.

the massaging techniques described here are not to be replicated. please do not treat this fic as a horny wikihow article. it is simply a horny fic that is all.

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist (now with a new category!) in my description.

~~~

The sound of the cab driving away behind you, unceremoniously deposited as you are at the entrance of this imposing building, leaves a hollowness behind, accentuated by the darkness you’re surrounded by.

You hear a couple walk past, catch them giving you a look even as you continue to dawdle outside the apartment. The security guards probably think you’re another stalker, here to camp out for the night, waiting to catch a glimpse of one of the inhabitants.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, you wonder if this is the best course of action. What if he’s busy? What if he’s been practicing the whole day and he’s tired? What if he’s, shockingly enough given the earliness of the hour, asleep?

But traitorously, the weight of your phone in the pocket of your jeans makes itself known with another vibration, and you let yourself recollect all the facts that refute your tiredness- and stress- induced spiral. He’s texting you right now, for one. You had felt like a proper fraud, reading his messages that were coming in rapidly from your notification panel as he went on about what a good day he had, how great it was that it was a Friday and they were getting a weekend off, right as you were in a car on the way over to his place.

You know that if there were a day where you crave some comfort and some warmth, and your body decides to drag itself of its own accord halfway across the city the moment you get home from work, you couldn’t have chosen a better time for it to be happening than now.

But, still.

You’re not sure how to go about this whole selfish-intentioned surprise appearance to his house. Every time you’ve been here so far, you’ve both either arrived together, or he’s been waiting in the lobby to pick you up from the entrance. You doubt the guards are feeling any kinder towards you the longer you spend hovering outside, and a claim of ‘I'm his girlfriend.’ will probably be met with scepticism and a complaint at the nearest police station about a stalker. If they asked Jongin to file a restraining order, he'd do it, too. For shits and giggles.

With a sigh, ignoring the unread messages from him, you walk across to the opposite side of the road, absentmindedly kicking at the wall as you call his number. He’s on his phone, you know that, but it still surprises you a bit when he picks up on the second ring, cheery greeting instant, leaving you with no time to prepare.

You’re pretty sure you would have come up empty, anyway.

“Hey!”

You’re not sure where to start, how to even begin to tell him that you’re outside his house at 10 PM, and you wish there was a script for such situations.

Hi, I’m tired and stressed and the moment I got home, I came here, but now I’m not sure why, so maybe I should just go back and save us both the bother, even though I feel a little bit better already, just after hearing your voice.

Without preamble, throwing caution to the wind, you ask, “Could you pick me up?”

There's shuffling on his end, the sound of blankets rustling, and you think he’s getting out of bed when he replies immediately, “Yeah, sure. Where are you? Are you fine?”

You hear the clang of keys and you desperately wish there was some way to sound less confusing than you do, as you hurriedly tell him to not bother with getting his car.

“Uh, okay. Why don’t you tell me where you are, and I’ll see if it’s a sneakily walkable distance?”

“I’m outside your apartment.”

There’s silence for a second, static crackling, as you semi-consciously pick at your thumb nail, waiting for him to laugh it off as a joke, praying that he laughs it off as a joke, hoping to hear the low rumble of his chuckle so you can pretend the same and just book a cab back home. But then he hums slowly, thoughtfully, before replying, “Okay, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it without a vehicle, but I’ll try.”

You feel the side of your lip quirk up by itself, just a minuscule amount, beyond your control, before you huff in half-hearted amusement, listening as he opens his door. You can imagine him entering the lift, padding around in the corridor in his ridiculously expensive house slippers, slipping into the lobby.

He doesn’t hang up, and the elevator sounds and the polite neighbour greetings give you a pretty good estimate of his progress. You see his blurry shadow behind the frosted glass of the building entrance before you hear him talk to the guards.

From the handset you still have pressed to your ear, you hear his tinny voice ask, “What are you doing all the way over there?”

“Coming,” you mumble shortly, hanging up and crossing the road.

Despite the fact that they’ve got explicit proof that you are, in fact, a legitimate visitor, the guards’ gazes hold lingering distrust, and it’s with an internal sigh of relief that you slip inside the building and out of their eyesight. Or maybe the relief has more to do with present company, who’s to say?

To his credit, Jongin doesn’t say a word. He tries catching your evasive eye, fidgets a bit after he presses the elevator button, but doesn’t ask you what on Earth you’re doing here. The lift is empty but for the two of you, and the moment the doors close, he shuffles a bit closer. Not so much that he invades your personal space but enough to let you know that he’s there, and that he’d appreciate an explanation, if you were up to giving one.

Slowly, not looking at him, you extend your stiff arm to the side, just enough so your pinkie grazes the side of his surprised hand. His muted giggle as you wind your finger around his makes you feel just that little bit better. He relaxes as he gets the cue and engulfs your hand in his large one, warm and comforting and solid, before gently tugging you out once the elevator doors open.

His house always smells the same. Hints of his Ferrari Black perfume, traces of his chocolate flavoured protein powder and just that little tinge of lilac air freshener.

You stop walking somewhere in the middle of the hall, your interlocked hands forcing him to halt as well in his path to the bedroom. He turns around, eyebrow quizzically cocked as he looks at you. For the first time, you look up from your insofar steady gaze at the smooth marble floor and at his face.

Your mouth opens once. And then it shuts. And then it opens again. Suddenly, you’ve remembered all the work you have to do and all the stress induced by that work and paradoxically enough, how that’s the reason you’re here.

It’s like he can tell that you’re working yourself up in your head, and by the time he turns around fully to face you, now very much in your personal space, he’s lost all trace of confusion.

Softly, hand still holding yours firm and keeping you grounded, he asks, “Food, sleep or talk?”

It’s easier to focus on options like these, simpler than trying to organise the multiple to-do lists you’ve got living rent free in your brain, and without much thought, you mumble, “Can we just...chill?”

You know what he’s going to interpret it as before a single word escapes his mouth, and you’re already halfway through an eye roll by the time he begins to reply, eyebrows wiggling ridiculously and stage smoulder set in place that just looks exaggerated in as subdued a setting as this.

“Is that what we're calling it these days?”

You’re the one leading him to the room now, as he easily matches your pace with a single long stride. He sees that you’re a little calmer, pleased that his silly antics have served to at least put you in a headspace that’s almost accepting of peace, and like a fuckboy faux-stretching to put his arm around his dates' shoulder, he fakes a yawn, detaching your interlocked hands and long limbs extending until he’s smoothly gotten you under his left arm, loosely pressed to his side, right as you both enter the room.

It’s contact that you did not know you craved, and you gladly welcome it, shuffling closer and fully prepared to just live there, cozy against his firm chest and his t-shirt that’s become uber-soft from being washed too many times.

It’s short-lived, sadly enough. After indulging you for a few seconds, he pulls away slowly, lowly chuckling as you cling on for a millisecond longer, before nudging you towards the bed.

“Go. I’ll be there in a second.”

Wordlessly, you obey, letting your body flop onto the mattress so you can stare at the ceiling as Jongin rummages around in the bathroom. The dimmed yellow night lights calm you down, and it’s comparatively easier to mute your brain now, body sinking into the comforter that smells like his laundry detergent.

You’ve just about begin to relax, about to say that you could maybe muster up the mental capacity for maybe a low-action movie or TV show, when you hear him call out from the adjoining room.

“T-shirt off, please.”

You don’t realise that your eyes have slipped shut until they jolt open in surprise. You clamber up to a sitting position with an energy you didn’t know you possessed, swiftly turning your head towards the owner of the voice in bemused surprise, just in time to catch the trailing end of a roguish wink before his poked out head pops back out of sight to join the rest of his body in the other room.

Before you can even question the abrupt request, Jongin re-enters. He’s got a bowl in his hand, white and porcelain and whose contents smell like those massage oils he swears by, that he carefully carries in his journey toward you, lightly observing as he places the container on the side table, “You’re still wearing your t-shirt.”

“You're still wearing your t-shirt.”

You aren’t sure where the knee-jerk, childish response comes from, but you can’t complain as you watch him divest himself of the offending article of clothing, impish grin popping into view once he’s done, black fabric bundled and nonchalantly tossed onto the armchair in the corner of the room.

“Your turn.”

You tear your eyes away from his torso at his teasing voice with more than a little difficulty. There’s a shift in the air and challenge in his gaze, and maybe this was his plan all along. Smart man.

Focus trained on him, chin up in a confidence you would not have been capable of ten minutes ago, you mimic his motions, and just for the heck of it, neatly fold the garment in your hands before setting it on the far corner of the bed.

It gives you something to do with your hands, and they’re definitely itching.

You look back up at his patient face when you’re done, refusing to get distracted by everything else that he definitely wants you to get distracted by, distantly pleased when you see his eyes flick up to your face. If there’s a massage on the agenda, you’re going to get it, goddammit.

“What are you doing all the way over there?”

His lips quirk up further at your recycled statement, repeated from what feels like ages ago. He picks up the bowl he had sat down while saying, “Lie on the bed, face down.”

You resist the urge to snort at his smug grin, both of you sharing a second of amused eye contact at the continuous innuendos, before you do as instructed, crawling up the bed and flipping around until your chin is resting on your forearms cushioned by the pillows right in front of the headrest. Somehow, you manage to feel simultaneously half-asleep and hyper-aware.

The bed dips to your right, his movements graceful, dancer limbs elegant, even as he’s climbing onto a bouncy mattress while balancing a bowl of oil, and he settles on his knees near the small of your back.

There’s silence for a moment, before his phone lands a few feet from your face, bouncing once and landing face down, and now there are slow, deep beats filling the room, The Weeknd crooning smoothly and making you slip deeper. Shit, he’s good.

Your hum of approval is accompanied by you sinking in further to the mattress, and bedding rustling next to you as Jongin moves closer, the fabric of his pyjama pants now brushing gently against the side of your waist.

“Is this...the treatment you give all your customers?” you ask, breath slightly hitching as you feel a large palm settle on the small of your back, gently tracing upward to fiddle for a second with the hook in your bra before undoing it.

“Definitely not. They get flowers and bathrobes and choice of fragrance. And I get paid.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to retort, teasingly poking at the flesh on the side of your waist, making you weakly giggle at the ticklish sensation, before placing his permanently warm, and now oily, hands at the base of your spine, gently sliding up, applying just the slightest hint of pressure.

You'd be embarrassed about the sigh you let out just then, but you’re too far gone to care. You let yourself relax under his tenderly firm ministrations, feeling his palms glide up and down your back as he spreads the oil around, rubbing it in. With the slow music in the background and the dim lighting in the room, there isn’t much to keep you from slipping into a zoned-out, dreamy haze.

An indeterminate amount of time passes like this before you sleepily begin to mumble, head ducking to burrow into the soft pillows as Jongin moves to the sides of your neck, long fingers more effective than any massager. “If you weren’t a dancer, you could have become a very successful masseur, I think.”

You feel his chuckle in your bones, as he momentarily bends at the waist, gentle kiss pressed against the skin right in between your shoulder blades, a direct contrast to the warmth his body emanates against your pampered back, brief contact swiftly snatched away as he straightens up and continues pressing his thumb against the bottom of your neck.

Preening at the affection, you continue, “Magic in those fingers, that’s what you have.”

Said fingers move down until they’re at the base of your spine, large palms spread out in opposite directions and spanning your back, ends curled possessively around the curve of your hips.

“They’re good at other things, too,” he says, tone low and no longer as teasing as it was, hands slipping dangerously low and index finger dipping into the waistband of your pants.

Suddenly, you’re wide awake.

Head slowly coming up, you rest your chin once more on folded arms, settling as much as you can with a finger running absent circles on the base of your hips.

“Pray tell.”

75 notes · View notes

brittledame · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader

Tags: Teen and up audience, Post-timeskip, Canon divergence, Coffee Shops, Meet-cute, Fluff, Musician Semi, University student reader, POV changes

Word Count: 6.6K

Summary: In which a broken coffee machine leads you to meet an attractive musician also inhabiting the only coffee shop near campus open at an ungodly hour. The lack of sleep and the stress of your assignment are eased by the nonsensical tunes the unknown musician struggles to compose a significant song. Unknowingly, you both indirectly help each other through mental roadblocks and inspire him to write a hit song. It wasn't until your next fateful meeting that you were able to thank each other.

Current situation aside, you were usually a diligent student. You preferred to finish an assignment at least a full 24 hours before editing and submitting it, rather than leaving it to the last minute and handing in a half-assed attempt. However, this one particular assignment that had crawled from the bowels of hell was the exception to your characteristic conscientiousness. The assignment had blindsided you, slipping under your radar as other more pressing assignments drew your attention away from it. Much like an ignored weed problem, under your wilful neglect it compiled into an unimaginable mess. There was no possible way for you to get this done without pulling a soul-sucking all-nighter.

Another exception to your quickly spiralling out-of-control life was the fact that your prized coffee marker in all its shiny black plastic glory after five long years has finally turned in its resignation of being used and abused by you. So not only were you frantically rushing this twenty-one-page report due in not even eight hours, your one source of liquid determination is completely off the books.

Standing before the hunk of useless machinery refusing to even turn on, you stood there in silence as you mourned the loss of a good friend and an alright cup of coffee every morning. This did not help your current situation and you knew that you would not make it without some form of caffeine and you refuse to take the final dive into the uni student life and take no-doze tablets.

No, you refuse go that low just yet.

Although they are starting to sound tempting as the harsh wind tugs at your clothing and nips at your skin like you weren’t wearing two layers in the middle of normally warm Spring night to make a trip to the only local coffee shop you knew of open at this ungodly hour of 2 am. A faint orange glow grows steadily larger with each hurried step. You rushed to both get out of the wind and continue the futile act of completing your assignment to a decent enough standard to pass the subject.

The high expectations you entered the semester with had all but been eviscerated at this point. You would be outrageously thankful to pass at this stage in the semester.

As you push through the door, you crush the unwanted thought of your academic score plummeting. Oh well. Que sera, sera.

Glancing around the small and dimly lit establishment, you were surprised to note that it wasn’t deserted. In total, there were three people inside, excluding yourself. Two being workers and the other being a figure sequestered to the distant corner of the small cosy shop.

Behind the counter sat a bored-looking barista scrolling on his phone and a person with a very familiar face wiping down the benches.

“Jin! I didn’t expect to see you at this hour.” You exclaim while walking up to the counter while simultaneously fishing out your purse from your bag.

Said brunette turned at your voice, smiling when he sees that his ears didn’t deceive them.

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you right now, either.” He grins amiably.

You had to give it to him, even at 2 am, his friendly smile put your stressed heart at ease. That was the true power of one Jin Soekawa, asides from the heavenly caffeinated ambrosia he concocted.

“Yeah, well if my coffee machine didn’t abandon me in my darkest hour, believe me when I say I’d be at home in my pajamas.”

Jin laughs as he rings your total up without question and starts the process of making your usual order. A perk of visiting at least three times a week was getting to know the friendly day baristas. Placing the exact amount of change on the counter, you move down the counter to catch Jin’s words.

“I never took you for a night-owl.” You scoff and shake you head at him, noting the teasing glint in his dark eyes.

“I’m not,” you bemoan, “this is punishment for putting off a big assessment and thinking it wouldn’t take long to finish. And to top it all off, my main source of night-late fuel ditched me.”

Jin nods sympathetically at your whining, not wanting to disturb the other regular shop patron in his also stressed-fueled all-nighter.

“No one with sense would be up at this hour working.” The angry-looking brunette you’ve never seen before mutters loudly.

Jin looks at the male, thick eyebrows furrowed reproachfully. You raise your eyebrow at Jin, wondering if he always had to burn the midnight oil with someone that looked like they were ready to quit and walk out at any second.

“Don’t mind Yunohama, he’s just pissed that he got tricked into the graveyard shift by the manager along with me.”

His cheery tone contrasted greatly to the gloom surrounding Yunohama. Smothering the laugh that wanted to come out at their polar opposite personalities, you instead turn to cough quietly into your hand.

Your gaze locked with chocolate brown irises that even at this distance, you could tell were mesmerising. The male’s eyes widen as he realises he was caught staring at you and quickly turns away and busies himself with the papers littering the table.

Well that was odd.

You stared at the back of his head full of shoulder-length ash-blond hair, waiting for him to turn back around. After a beat, you shrug to yourself and turn back to a busy Jin.

“Do you mind if I grab a seat and start on my work?” You point a thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the seating area.

Jin nods his head and gives a cheery smile that didn’t fit the sleepy night-time atmosphere.

“Sure! I’ll bring it over when it’s done. It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

Shooting him a thumbs up, you hike the bag strap further up your shoulder and select a table to slowly lose your mind at. You end up choosing one that was about three tables away from the stranger, not wanting to intrude upon his stressed-out vibes. From the short glimpse you caught of his face, he seemed quite attractive. If you weren’t as tired or stressed as you currently were, you might have had the guts to sit closer and sneak subtle glances, but the sword of Damocles currently swung menacingly above your head.

As you walk over, you notice a dark blue Ashton-branded acoustic guitar leaning against the chair on his lap. You also notice him frantically scribbling down on paper, pausing and then staring at the paper like it insulted him. You file this in the back of your mind, saving it for a later time.

You almost felt sorry for the odd guy. If it weren’t for the burden of your laptop holding an unfinished assignment due in exactly seven hours now, you would spare some sympathy. Sighing, you plop yourself in the seat and quietly go about setting yourself up. Logging into your laptop, the not even half-filled word document met your weary gaze. God, even with the smell of coffee and warmth surrounding you, no motivation welled up like you hoped it would. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for a long night-slash-morning.

Focused on your work, you failed to notice Jin coming over with your order, sitting it out of the way of your work with a quiet “good luck” . The cup of hot coffee was left forgotten as a decent-sounding ideas flashed through your mind unprompted. It was safe to say that by the time you did notice and started drinking it, it was lukewarm.

Grimacing after taking the first sip, you lean back in your chair and look at the ceiling to give your eyes a break. A soothing tune of random string plucking fills the air. For a brief second, you were confused as to when background music started playing, only to realise it was coming from the hot guy you caught staring at you earlier.

Attracting your attention, you glance over to his table. The guitar was now propped against his lap and lovingly cradled in his arms. The position accentuated his biceps partially concealed by white cotton V-neck tee, not that it stopped your appreciative looks. Fluorescent pink guitar pick in hand, the ash-blond musician continues to strum a few nonsensical tunes that your stress-filled mind failed to name.

As if remembering your existence, he whips his head around to meet your interested gaze. Flustered at finding you already staring at him, the male holds his hands out in a placating gesture.

“I’m so sorry! I should have asked if you were okay with me playing. I mean the baristas said it was okay but that was before you came in…” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his head.

Giving him a friendly smile, you shake your head.

“No, don't apologise. It’s fine.” You assure him. Immediately, the tension drains from his features. Man, the poor guy must have dealt with his fair share of assholes to respond so visibly at the prospect of pissing people off by playing out loud. That had to suck.

“Besides, who am I to deny the arts?” You continue, lazily waving your hand in the air.

He laughs at your unusual response, hands settling back into their designated positions on the instrument. The sound was completely unexpected. You sat there in shock as the rich-sounding rumble rolls through the air. Sure he was good-looking but damn, to have a nice deep voice on top of all that? He was truly blessed. To top it off, he gives you a smile that should be outlawed for how attractive he is.

Damn, awkward music guy was hot.

The belated thought had you flustered. Hiding behind your hand as you brush back hair out of the way, you recompose yourself. Meeting his gaze once again, you notice a twinkle that you didn’t spot before, confirming your initial suspicion of his eyes being mesmerising.

Blinking yourself out of the stupor, you inwardly scold yourself for staring at the poor dude that didn’t come here to get stared at by someone dressed in comfy clothes and a whole collection of lilac bags under their eyes.

Ignoring the questioning look you receive at your odd facial expression you unintentionally made, you turn back to your laptop and dive head-first into the report. It was a nice escape from the embarrassment that wanted to choke you at acting like you’ve never seen an attractive person before.

God your tired self was an embarrassment.

He continues on playing the guitar, now strumming out a soft lingering song that soothed your frazzled mind and weirdly energised you to keep going.

From the very moment that you stepped across the threshold, bringing with you a wisp of chilled air that nipped at his nose, Eita could pick that you were an overworked university student.

Your lilting voice filled his ears as you had a friendly chat with the amicable barista. He ignored the noise as he stared at the blank manuscript paper before him, frustration bubbling within him. This was the seventh attempt at writing the final song for their break-out album in just as many days. An invisible clock hovered over his head as the hours tick by, closer and closer to the deadline their production manager had set.

The other songs came so freely to him - serving as an outlet for the experiences he’s had or heard about from close friends and family. But this last song? It fought against him tooth and nail, refusing to be put on paper. Eita had a vague concept and a tune, but the words evaded him. That was the most frustrating part really, but it happened to the best musicians so it shouldn’t surprise him that writer’s block finally hit him like a truck on a foggy night. Hard and seemingly out of nowhere.

Eita wanted the final song on their first album to be about his last relationship, as conceited as it may sound to some. He found it was the best way to close that messy chapter of his life. It was never fun to be strung along whilst your partner was looking at - loving - another, and yet refusing to let him go. Plus, people love break-up songs and their up-and-coming band needed something to round out the alternative rock songs they usually played.

Fragmented and incomplete thoughts filled his mind as you continued chatting, now with the mean-looking barista joining in. Easily pulling his attention from the anger-inducing blank white space, Eita gets a good look at you now that you're standing closer. Wearing comfy-looking clothes and a tired expression, you looked like the poster child for the average student and yet Eita felt inexplicably drawn towards you like a magnet to its opposing pole.

Unexpectedly, you turn towards him, catching him in the act of checking you out. Eyes clear despite the tired lines etching into your face, lips pulled into a slight smile that had his heart miss a beat. Okay, wow. Maybe he’s been out of the dating scene for far too long to react like that. Breaking the eye contact, Eita whirls back around in his seat and starts messing with the papers spread before him to feign being busy.

A hot blush seared across his cheeks as he mentally groans at his inappropriate behaviour. The cute university student probably thought that he was a creep now, great. While Eita wanted to do nothing but bury his head into his hands and scream until his throat was raw, the blank page laying innocently there taunted him.

God damn it. He hadn’t felt this frustrated and inadequate since high school. No one wanted to revert to their high school selves. Scrubbing at his eyes, all Eita wanted from tonight was a simple song, that was all. Nothing more. Nothing less. Yet it still felt like a herculean task. The picture of his ex with a fake expression of hurt rises to forefront of his mind unbidden.

Ah yes, there were other times he'd experienced this intense frustration. It hurt to walk away from the first real relationship he’d been in, but she was bad for him in a lot of ways that he was blind. That was until his friends lifted the rose-tinted love goggles and pointed out each and every red flag he had missed.

Suddenly, Eita was struck with the perfect words to encompass the maelstrom of emotions within him, namely bitterness and helplessness.

Not wanting the words escape him , Eita captures them with frantic hands. Scared of their ephemeral nature, here one second and gone the next. Those few words grew into a verse, much to Eita’s elation. He still needed a chorus and an outro, but the intro was looking fine and Eita knew not to push his luck.

Reaching for his guitar and pulling a pick from his jean pocket, he gives his prized possession a quick strum. Judging it in-tune, a few warm-up melodies are played as his hands move without much thought.

Looking back at the sheet of paper sitting before him, incomplete but much better than before, he suddenly notices that the sound of your rapid typing in the background has stopped. Panicked at annoying yet another person angry at the world, Eita turns around quick enough to instill the fear of whiplash.

Met with your inquisitive look, he’s glad to see that you’re not frothing with rage like how some of the less-forgiving people get with his playing. After awkwardly apologising, he concludes you’re not mad in the slightest, instead giving him a weird response and shrugging off his disjointed apology.

There was definitely more than meets the eye with you. Even while being obviously exhausted, you were still kind to him, a stranger, while rushing to complete what he can only assume to be an assignment of some sort. From the short conversation, he couldn’t get a proper gauge for your personality, although he somehow just knew that you would have the most fascinating stories to share.

Eita fails to notice your flushed cheeks due to his laughter, instead he was admiring how your eyes wrinkled at the corners as a smile lit up your entire face. It was entirely too cute for him.

Abruptly, you turn away from him and return to your work, eyes fixed on the screen and furiously typing and clicking away across the room. Bewildered at your sudden change in mood, Eita leaves you be. Following your example, Eita turns back to his own business. There was a reason that he was in a deserted coffee shop in the dead of night, or more like morning at this point. He had work to do and a lot of it.

Despite that, he couldn’t help his eyes straying towards your figure as he strums out one of the first songs he learnt on guitar. From the corner of his eye, Eita notices at how the harsh light of your laptop highlights the exhaustion the soft lights of the shop smoothed out. Concerned at how tired your eyes looked, Eita knew that the coffee you sipped at was not doing its job to chase away the threads of tiredness that threatened to pull you under.

His examining looks go unnoticed by you, surprise, surprise. From what he overheard earlier, it’d make sense that a final assessment would take precedence over one’s self-awareness, not that he knew what that felt like. From how exhausted and slightly panicked you looked, he was glad he didn’t submit to his parents pestering, instead filing straight into the work force while he worked on his aspiring music career.

A sudden scene took his mind hostage, not letting him go until he payed it attention. Muses were odd like that, one minute he was daydreaming about his life’s choices and the next he sees you physically deflate in your chair as you hit a mental roadblock as he blows past his.

Hand possessed with words that filtered so fast through his mind, he couldn’t afford to process them as he messily tries to immortalise them onto paper before they leave him forever. Like the opening of flood gates, abstract scenes flash before his mind’s eye, constructing an intricate life for the unknown person before him and likening them to moments in his own life. You looked tired, overworked and under pressure to complete whatever you were toiling over.

Eita vaguely wonders what brought you to this coffee shop at this god forsaken hour. Was your roommate being too loud? Were you working through a bout of insomnia? Maybe you wanted to get some decent coffee while getting ahead in your course?

Whatever the reason, Eita is thankful for the pure happenstance it was for fate to place you before him. Before you showed up, exasperation was clouding his mind and creating minute tremors his hand. It was never a good mindset to have when puzzling together a significant song for both his band and his own closure.

Slowly, the disjointed verses and chords became stanzas and melodies, forming a fully-fleshed out song before his eyes in what seemed like a blink of an eye, but was most likely a few hours. Reading over the words and chords, Eita mentally sings the verses and then hums the chords out loud, checking that it flowed and it wasn’t a chaotic mess like the last iterations turned out to be.

Smiling at the fruits of his labour, Eita mentally pat himself on the back for persevering and not caving into his band mate’s insistent offers of assistance. They were all versatile in this industry and each had multiple roles within their rag-tag group. The least Eita could do was offer to compose the songs for them to play. Writing them was also a good outlet, he found. Since high school, he’d composed a few short jams, not that they would ever see the light if he could help it.

Pushing his joy back to regain focus, his eyes flit over to your hunched over figure. Even after all the hours that have passed, your fingers still tirelessly flew across your keyboard before pausing and correcting a few spelling and grammar mistakes as you go. Sending you a telepathic “good luck”, Eita once again picks up the instrument with the intent of playing what hopefully will be the final version of this song.

Now knowing that you wouldn’t mind his playing, he went ahead without holding back. Eyes following along with the keys written down, fingers plucking and strumming away at the strings. The notes blend together and softly swells and peaks with each repetition of the chorus. While he knew that you didn’t mind his playing, he didn’t want to distract you, so he mouthed the lyrics as he played.

The last chord hung in the air before fading into nothing. There were a few places that could use a few alterations, either a change in pitch or pace, but all in all it was a decent song accounting for the fact that it was written in less than a night. Now all it needed was a name.

Coming up with an appropriate name was always the hardest part of the process, Eita thought. Typically, if an artist wanted their song to be found easily, it was best to name it after the chorus. Scanning over verses and chorus, he pauses over the words ‘honey go home’.

Eita didn’t even have to turn around to know that you were running on fumes. If he had the confidence to strike up a proper conversation, he knew he would voice this sentiment to you. Pushing aside the thought, he writes the potential name in the top margin with a query next to it.

The song itself needed approval by the rest of the group and by their production manager, but he was overall very proud at completing it under the pressure of a dreadfully close deadline and the absence of a muse. That was, until you walked in.

Without even realising it, you served as the catalyst to the intense emotions that Eita felt in that futile relationship.

That wasn't to say that you reminded him of her. From what he could tell, you weren’t like his ex in the slightest. In fact, he was tempted to say from your short interaction and mannerisms that you were the polar opposite to the stiff and stand-offish demeanour his ex possessed. Still, you somehow triggered a part of him that he’d been unknowingly out of touch with since his break up. it was freeing in a sense, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

Calling it a night, Eita begins to pack up his mess of papers and stack dirty coffee mugs. Organising the sheet music into neat piles, he tucked the newly composed song in a sleeve separate to the half-baked songs written earlier on in the night. Throwing the folder and other miscellaneous items into his tote, he briefly wonders about when would be an appropriate time to message the team and notify them of his success. Checking his phone, Eita was not surprised to see that he stayed up so late from how groggy he felt. It definitely feels like almost six in the morning.

Tucking his phone away in his pocket, he grabs the bag and slings his guitar strap over his shoulder. Without even realising it, Eita looks back over to your table. Still in the exact same position, now with a half-empty cup of coffee cooling by your elbow as your emptily stare drills into the word document before you click something and fix whatever mistake you could find. From your unhurried pace, Eita assumed you were in the editing phase of the assignment, close to the end.

He was tempted to walk over to your table, to both say thanks and to get your name. You didn’t know how thankful he was of your presence obliterating his two-week long writer’s block and he wanted to make you aware of it. If he just so happens to offer to thank you over a drink or dinner and you accept, then that'd be a bonus of getting to know you.

As Eita walks towards the exit, he still tosses up whether to approach you or not. As he nears, you sigh heavily and message your temples, signalling that maybe you weren’t in the best of moods to make friendly conversation. That’s alright, Eita thinks as he bypasses your table at the last second. He really didn’t want to be the cause of breaking your focus, especially when you looked so done with life right now.

Like a fool, Eita lets the opportunity slip trough his fingers. Sparing you once last look over his shoulder, he pushes the door open and leaves the shop just as the sun kisses the horizon with her golden rays.

As he makes his way home, in the back of his mind he hopes that you get to go home soon to get some well-deserved rest.

Watching the monster document upload slowly on the café’s slow wifi was torture in and of itself. Sipping the last dredges of the cold coffee, you stare unblinkingly at the loading bar, hoping that it wouldn’t pop up with an error and terminate the upload. If that happened, you were going to scream. And maybe break something. You’re sure Jin wouldn’t mind so much. He knew you would pay for whatever damages you caused in your hysteria.

A small green notification confirms the upload and gives a receipt of your submission. The time stamp was enough for a cold sweat to break out along your skin. Ten minutes longer and it would’ve been late and you would've receive a big fat zero for it. The professor was an asshole to have that stipulation, but you were well and truly too exhausted to be angry at this point.

Shutting down the device, you recline back in the chair and swivel your neck that was stiff from holding it in a weird position for hours on end. God, your whole body was aching from unconsciously holding tension for the entire night.

The faint sunlight filtering through the windows suggest that it was time to pack up and get some much-needed sleep before your class today. Mid-day classes were the best, you cheered. Thankfully you’d be able to get at least a few hours before having to survive the rest of the day. You still had other assignments and module quizzes after all.

After neatly placing all your stuff away, you turn to seek out the attractive musician. At the sight of the empty chair he once inhabited, your heart sinks. You hadn’t even seen him leave, too wrapped up in rushing to submit before the rapidly approaching deadline.

Dismayed at the musician’s absence, you crush the unwarranted thought of being lonelier than you thought to fall for a stranger after a short conversation. If it could even be called a conversation since it was mostly him apologising.

Sighing out loud, you grab your bag and wave at Jin as you stand.

“Thanks for the coffee. You’re a miracle worker I swear.” Your compliment made him smile as he continued to sweep behind the counter.

“Good to hear that you enjoyed my coffee even though they were probably cold when you drank them.”

You chuckle at that and give a good bye as you leave the shop. The trip home was a blur in your mind. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow. As blissful unconsciousness enveloped you, the image of the ash-blond musician pops in your mind.

Eita was torn between cursing ever meeting you or thanking every god that existed. No that was a lie. He definitely didn’t regret meeting you. What he did regret was telling his prying room mate about the unexpected form his muse appeared as, after being asked how he pumped out a song so quickly.

Satori had a field day about his incompetence in asking for a someone's name.

“You have the looks and charisma of a modern day Adonis and yet you are the most awkward person I know when it comes to flirting.”

Eita had no grounds to defend himself. He knew he was hopeless when it came to dating. That was probably why he stayed so long in his last one, knowing how hard it is to put himself back on the dating scene.

“Yeah. I know.” He replied, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It did nothing to alleviate the headache he felt coming on.

“Have you tried going back there to meet them again?” Satori looked at him questioningly while upside down from where he had his head thrown over the back of the lounge.

Yeah, Eita has tried going back there. All at varying times that he was out and about and had succumbed to the urge to go back there and see if maybe you were there. On his tenth visit there, he was sorely tempted to ask the barista with the thick eyebrows that you spoke to on that fateful night for your name. Common sense was quick to convince him out of that idea, he really didn’t want to come across as a creep.

Satori didn’t have to know all of that, though, so he stayed vague with his answer.

“Yeah I have, but they weren’t there.”

“Well,” Satori dragged the word out for longer then necessary and Eita felt his eyebrow tick in irritation. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Like Romeo and Juliet but with less death.”

Shaking his head at the analogy, Eita silently agrees with the flamboyant red-head. Maybe meeting you once was enough of a miracle that he should be thankful for and just accept his star-crossed meeting with you.

Still, he had a lot to thank you for. You served as a catalyst for became the most popular song in their first album, 'Honey Go Home' shooting up in the charts every passing day. Since then, they’ve been booking gigs left and right. Not that you ever knew it, nor would you ever since he hadn’t seen you since that fateful night.

A text from their manager pulls him out of the bittersweet reverie, notifying him of an impromptu meeting to cover the packed schedule for the next month. Running a hand through his hair, he contemplates if he had enough time to get dressed and grab something to eat along the way.

Judging that he could, but it’d be a tight fit, Eita shoots off into his room to chuck on random articles of clothing before heading out. He hears Satori snort at his outfit combination and ignores it in favour of beating the lunch-time rush.

By the time he makes it into the business district, Semi had a handful of minutes to spare to grab lunch before what he assumes is going to be a long meeting. Spotting a takoyaki stall not far from him, he was soon waiting in line with others that were won over by the delicious savoury smells permeating from the stall.

The order turnover was pretty quick, still he eyed the time on his phone’s home screen with worry. His band mates wouldn’t let himself live it down, hell he himself wouldn’t let it go. No one wanted to be that guy holding everyone up from going home to their lives. Generally, they all got along like a house on fire but with their recent schedule, it was hard not to want to spend lost time with friends and family.

Hearing his order called out, he rushed to collect the bag. There was no time to eat it now, so he’s have to eat during it, which wasn’t the worse thing to ever happen. Picking up his pace whilst answering a text, he doesn’t see the person he ends up crashing into, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

They gasp as he slams against their back and start to tilt forward before he reaches out and pulls them by their shoulder to get back their footing.

“Sorry! Are you okay?” His eyes sweep down the person’s body, ensuring he caused no physical damage. As the person turned around to face him, Eita met the face he'd least expected to see. Taken aback, Eita stared at you in shock as you mimicked him.

It was a humorous twist of fate that he would quite literally come crashing back into your life, after trying to find you for entire week.

It took you a moment to recognise him, trying to place his face to someone you met while his eyes roam your face. Once you do remember, you flushed at the close proximity of your bodies, his hand still clasped on your shoulder.

You both stared at one another as the world passes by, unknowing of the second fortuitous second meeting of the pair. Shock was the predominant emotion reigning inside of Eita, followed by gratefulness.

He suffered a full week of teasing from Satori and his band for acting like a hapless fool in love with some nameless person. There was no way in hell he was going to let you slip through his fingers again without at least getting a name.

“Hey, I know this sounds weird, but can I ask for your name?” He cursed the way his voice cracked at the greeting, wanting to scream at how awkward he was being again.

For whatever reason, it seemed that you were charmed by his latent charisma trumping his stiff question and you respond with your name. Testing it, he says it back to you and you respond with a nod at his pronunciation.

“What’s yours? I can’t keep calling you hot music guy.” You query in kind.

A light blush covers his cheeks at the compliment. He knew he looked good, people never failed to remind him, but it was always an ego boost when someone that made his heart flutter gave a compliment.

“I’m Semi Eita.”

He realises he was still holding your shoulder as they jump up as you silently laugh at his adorable blush. As if you burned him, he snatches away his hand as the blush intensifies. Eita was sure his face was bright red now.

“Well, hi Semi. I’m glad I got to meet you again. I wanted to thank you for playing that night, it really pushed me to keep working.” You glance off to the side, not meeting his surprised expression.

A soft, warm feeling fills him at your words. The power music possessed was a mysterious thing. To know that his playing had such an effect on you was incredible. It was extremely flattering.

“That's funny, because I actually wanted to thank you.” The words pour out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

A curious look lights up your face and urges him to continue.

“In a round-about way, you inspired me –“ The shrill ring tone of his phone cut off his explanation.

Giving you an apologetic look, he looks at the screen and grimaces when he sees the contact name of his manager paired with the time. He was late already, so what was a few more minutes? He might as well shoot his shot, Eita concludes as he denies the call and meets your beautiful gaze.

Under the sunlight in light clothing for the warm spring-time weather, you looked stunning. The lack of tired lines etching your face and eye-bags soothes his heart, knowing that you got some decent sleep last night. It was weird how he barely knew you and yet he wanted to know if you got some sleep. Eita barely knew you and he craved being able to take care of you on those long nights when you were unable to do so yourself.

“Was that important?” You tilt your head at him and Eita had to refrain himself from visibly showing how much the cute action affected him.

“Ah, yeah, it kind of was,” Came his stilted reply. You bit at your cheek as Eita wanted to bang his head against a wall. What was it with him losing his cool with you around? Usually he was pretty good with small talk, or so he was told. His phone starts ringing again in his hand and he doesn't even bother to look at it.

Time had run out, it was now or never.

“Can I have your number? I’d really like to thank you when I’m not being rushed.” The words rushed out of him in a single breath, the split second of courage proving to be his downfall. As he regained that breath, he realised how fast he spoke. It was highly likely that you might’ve not caught them. Okay, now he was ready to bury himself alive.

R.I.P. Semi Eita.

Cause of death: trying and failing to ask for your number.

You stared at him blankly, mind taking a moment to process the word vomit, unknowingly watching him as he has an internal melt-down. His question suddenly hits you and it takes everything in you to not blush at the thought of a kind and talented musician asking for your number.

“Oh! You want my number?” You ask, pulling out your phone and pointing at it in question.

Relief sweeps away the embarrassment that threatened to surpass all logic and just leg it away from you and forget about ever meeting you entirely.

Not trusting himself, Eita nods. Pulling up a new contact and handing over his phone, you wordlessly do the same. Standing there filling out contact details, his accomplishment didn’t strike him until he thanked you and promised to text you soon after you urged him to get where he was needed.

While it wasn’t exactly the way he envisioned your first proper conversation to go, it did end with your name, number and a promise of a future meet-up. It was hard to keep the grin off of his face as he enters the room filed with unimpressed people. Once he explained his tardiness, the mood turned on its head as they gave him encouraging pats on the back and a few hair-ruffles that he batted away.

The entire time he sat there, his phone felt like a lead weight in his pocket. It took all his self-restraint to not text you right then and there.

In the end, it turned out you were the one to send the first text. If anyone saw the way he reacted to receiving that text as he walked out the building, he would refute any and all claims of him lighting up like a Christmas tree until the day he died.

Unlike asking for your number, it took a while for him to gather the courage to ask you out after a few easy-flowing conversations. With your enthusiastic response, he felt on top of the world.

Eita never made a habit of looking back at the past, arguing there was nothing one could possibly gain from doing so. Although, after the short few months since meeting and consequently dating you, he found himself often looking back to that quite night in the dimly-lit coffee shop. By all means, that stress-filled night should not have lead to him finding his other half. But as Eita had come to learn, even the mundane becomes extraordinary with you by his side.

Notes: I wrote this in a night and had to stop myself from posting it without editing because I have no self-restraint sometimes. Critiques, Comments & Notes are always welcomed!

#semi eita x reader #semi eita #reader-insert #fluff #meet-cute #haikyu!!#Haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu!! fic #haikyu!! reader insert #shiratorizawa #I couldn't turn away the idea of running into him in a coffee shop #musician!semi #canon divergence

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birdwonder · 4 years

Note

Could I get life with the Bucci gang + Trish headcannons from after they defeated Diavolo? Like what do they do after they have freedom to do whatever they want now? Everyone lives AU of course because I miss my children 😔

|| i am a tumblr n00b who can not find a way to directly link my rules into my bio but i don’t take part 5 requests juuust yet. BUT. i have been wanting to write for part 5 so i’ll probably make an exception for you, lovely anon, and do some headcanons/fics i’m able to do in the future, until i’ve finished Golden wind ~! also - you hit my feels man.

i made them s/o related bc i’m so used to them that i didn’t realise that the request wasn’t specified for that :,)

Bucci Gang | Happy Ending Headcanons

Bruno Bucciarati

- God, he wants nothing more than to finally have some peace and quiet. Remaining in the mafia isn’t even the least of his concerns, instead he wants to know what you want. Whether you joined him on his journey to take down Diavolo or not didn’t matter as he knew that either way, the stress of him dying and you being tangled up in his mess would have been enough to cause premature grey hairs.

- Even if he does return to the mafia as a Capo, he wants a vacation, just perhaps not somewhere in Italy. With Giorno’s new status, and his own being fairly high ranking, he has the funds to take you somewhere away from any gangs and drama. His first idea would be a holiday island so the two of you can relax on the beach and feel the cool water from the pool washing away all the anxieties you once had; a couple spa day would not be out of the question.

- A change in scenery such as a cold country wouldn’t be too bad either, though he feels like the preparation for that would be a little harder as he doesn’t own many winter clothes.

- During the holiday, the two of you would spend every evening in a 5-star restaurant, dining in front of the sunset with joy in your hearts. On your final night of your stay, Bruno seems to be the happiest he’s ever been the whole trip and you can only assume that the effects of taking a break had finally worked on him. “It’s so nice to see you smiling, amore,” you tell him, resting your hand over his own on the clothed table.

- “It’s all thanks to you, [F/N],” Bruno softly explains, standing up while taking your hand into his own, glancing at the slowly falling sun. “I feel like I’ve been through Hell and back, and yet every moment with you so far has been Heaven.” Your heart melts at his words, eyes softening when he turns to look at you. “I’ve risked everything ever since my father died, and it’s made me realise how short life can truly be…”

- You can only gasp when he lowers himself to a single knee, one hand intertwined with your’s and another holding a small, velvet box with a ring fit for you. “I want to cherish every day, hour and second with you, amore. Will you marry me?”

- Whether you say yes or no, he respects your decision and makes it his goal to enjoy ever last day with you in a beautiful house. He still works alongside Giorno and his gang, but never once steps into a fight or situation without you and both of your safeties in mind.

Leone Abbachio

- He needs a drink, and bad. Yet, you stop him and instead force him into your arms on a couch and hold him until you’re crying tears of joy that it’s all over and even he’s close to shedding one or two; his face buried into the top of your head and muttering that he’s so grateful he hasn’t lost you.

- From there, his need to live for something or someone changes. His goal is no longer to be on hand and knee for an authority, but to be with you.

- His loyalty to Bucciarati remains, especially when they had been through so much together, yet much like his friend, he takes things easier. Leone’s mood is not as bitter as it once was and he softens every time he comes home from work to see you waiting for him or you return from your own occupation - both of you ready for some serious intimacy.

- If you’re apart of the mafia, he might pressure you to leave and live easy with his support, but he knows that you’d have to be pretty hard-headed to join the Passione, so leaving won’t be easy.

- After a year or so since the Diavolo incident he’d really want to settle down. Officially, the two of you would be living together by now but the house is just too quiet, which says a lot for such a silent, kept to himself man. During dinner one day, his cheeks are flushed red and he can’t even bring himself to eat or look at you. Worried that you’ve done something wrong, you ask what was causing this mood and the response of “I want children,” makes your fork drop to the floor.

- It’s entirely up to you if you both have children but if you do want to start a family, he’ll be overjoyed. He wants to commit to you and a rugrat or more. After all the shit he’s been through, having the ideal happy family dream is everything he could want. Also, he’d be an incredible father and husband. Nothing comes before his family, not even a mission.

Pannacotta Fugo

- oh shit oh fuck he’s lost. what does he do?

- There’s a good chance he hasn’t announced his love for you yet, so that’s probably the first thing on his to-do list. He knows he shouldn’t wait for life to take it’s course anymore and that he knows to be with you. Sooo, with pure fear, he pulls you aside and yells out that he loves you and starts to ramble that it’s ok if you don’t feel the same. You shut him up with a kiss and tell him you feel the same.

- After that, he has no real plans. It’s ironic seeing as he’s a strategist who has everything planned out, but he doesn’t have much in mind. Would he stay in Passione? Maybe, maybe not. Fugo has realised that he’s missed so many opportunities when it comes to his education and that he could be using his high IQ for something good, yet he knows no where could handle his anger issues quite like Bucciarati and the others could; aside from you.

- He’s young still, so marriage and a settled life style is too early however he still wants to be with you a lot more. As awkward as they may be at first, Fugo takes you on many dates and makes sure they all end with him shyly telling you that he loves you.

- If he keeps up working with the Passione, he continues to mentor Narancia for sure. Still just as aggressively if the poor boy gets anything wrong.

- Might try to practice using Purple Haze in a way that doesn’t affect the others around him. After all, if he can’t develop himself academically in a educational field, then he wants to grow in other ways. His anger issues and reluctance to use his stand? He wants them gone, or at least manageable to a satisfactory level. Fugo knows it won’t happen quickly or maybe at all, though that doesn’t stop his efforts.

Narancia Ghirga

- He’s going to go to school, baby !!

- And you’re coming with him, whether you were already in it or not. He’s going to become smarter and at least try to experience a portion of a normal growing up experience with your’s and Fugo’s support. Both you and the strawberry man will be begged for tutoring, to which there’s no hesitation for agreeing.

- Narancia is so happy that the whole mess is over and takes you into his arms, kissing you at least hundreds of times, telling you in-between each kiss that he loves you and that he can’t wait to go back to how things were. “I (mwah) love (mwah) you (mwah) so so so (mwah) much! We’re going to (mwah) kick back and relax (mwah) and watch all our favourite movies and (mwah) eat all our favourite foods!” “Narancia, stOoOoP!”

- You don’t have a choice in the matter when it comes to sticking by him. You both are going to live free and happy, with no cares aside from homework and upcoming tests.

- He’ll probably stay in Passione but makes time for school. It’d be a waste to not use Lil’ Bomber/Aerosmith and he wants to stay close to his gang until forever.

- Celebratory torture dance anyone?

Guido Mista

- Both he and his sex pistols are all over you once they realise that you’re all free from the gruelling mission. His hands are under your arms and he picks you up, swinging you around with so much cheer that hearing anything but his joyous yells of, “we did it!” is impossible. At the same time, his sex pistols are crawling up your arms and towards your face, hugging your neck and face with their own mini cheers of victory. Eventually, they each place an individual kiss on your cheek while Mista plants his own right onto your lips.

- He sticks with the Passione as Giorno’s right hand man, living in the joy of being a top dog and working alongside his friends. With all that they sacrificed, he’s enjoying everything that he does.

- Much like Fugo, he feels as though he’s still too young to marry or start a family immediately. Instead, he helps set you up with your own job and visits you every lunch break to spend time together. If you’re in the mafia, he begs Giorno to let you work alongside him, which was probably the new Don’s plan from the get-go, otherwise he visits wherever you work whenever he can. If he doesn’t have the time, he’ll text you with a cute image of him at work to which you reply with your own.

- Oh, even without starting the family, Mista’s mini stands definitely act like you’re their mother. Everytime they see you it’s constant cries for food and attention, and sometimes they can only be calmed down by your affection, not even Mista can make them work well without them at least seeing you recently. Suppose that’s all apart of a stand being the true nature of a person.

- Mista likes to spend his new raise in pay on himself and you. More rented movies, more lavish items, tons of gifts and bouquets that you insist you don’t need!

- You guys would probably move in together just because he likes coming home to you and telling you about his day, or seeing your smile after doing nothing but stand around next to Giorno. He’ll lie at first and say it’s for the sake of controlling his sex pistols because they can’t get enough of you.

Giorno Giovanna

- Aw yeah, who’s head bitch now? This guy.

- He works day and night to make sure his dream becomes a true reality, not letting the opportunity that his gang members and you have given him by risking your lives by even associating with him.

- Giorno’s head is in the game and he hits the floor running as soon as he’s the new boss, not wasting any time in claiming land and setting people straight with his new rules.

- This leaves you a little down in the dumps. After all that, and he still wants to work… It’s only right that you grab him by the face and tell him that he deserves at least some sort of a break, preferably with you.

- Realising that he really does, and so do you, he complies by having at least a week of resting, eating fine food and doing whatever you want as money was no longer an object to him.

- Mafia or not, you’re his right hand aside from Mista and the others. He’s had a bad day or really doesn’t know what to do with all the work he has? You swoop in and relax him, telling him that it’ll be ok and suggesting ways that he could deal with things.

- Mista jokes by saying you’re like his secretary like in those cheesy romantic movies and you come in the next day in a formal, assistant like outfit and Giorno’s heart stops. All and every ‘appointment’ for that day is cancelled.

- “I’m so proud of you Giorno, you got what you wanted.” You tell him, brushing a hand through his hair. “The love of my life and a fulfilled dream? Definitely, amore.”

Trish Una

- She’ll probably want to stick by the you and the Bucci Gang since you all supported her so much. Plus, she wants to improve on using her stand, especially if it’s for good.

- The two of you are glad to be together and spoil yourselves rotten with a shopping trip and a long spa day or two. You spend a lot of hours hugging and comforting her as she definitely breaks down in tears after all she’s been through has caught up. Even if she tries in front of the others, she can’t hide the stress that’s been hitting a rubbery wall and waiting to break through.

- If you cry too, she’ll laugh and say “look at us. Aren’t we just the perfect mess?”

- She isn’t really sure about how or where she wants to live though she wants to see you a lot, maybe not 24/7 just yet but at least close to where you live. If you do end up living together, she’ll enjoy it all the same but will make sure she works hard or longer outside of the home so coming back to see you is a breath of fresh air.

- Trish would want to have a committed, set life after all the bumps she’s had before. She knows who she is now, so from here on she’s going to be finding new parts of herself. From finding new hobbies and interests to doing some exploring across Italy and maybe the world, she really wants to come to terms with herself.

#trish and a few others are short bc im not quite sure yet how things are for them !#trish una #trish x reader #guido mista #mista x reader #narancia ghirga #narancia x reader #panacotta fugo #fugo x reader #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna #leone abbacchio #abbachio x reader #bruno x reader #jjba x reader #jjba headcanon #request

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bleedingthirium · 5 years

Text

Gavin x Reader (Stressed Out)

Authors Note: -Sobs- I tried to go for a softer Gavin Reed around his S/O at home but I feel like I went a little out of character. And I wrote ALOT. Im sorry! But I hope you enjoy it and I’m so sorry if it’s bad. And sorry it took so long to post.

Warnings: Swearing (because it’s fucking Gavin, c’mon people. GET A MOVE ON!) Category: Fluff

You and Gavin work completely opposite jobs; he was around dead people all the time, trying to find the murderer… whereas you were (more or less) based upon keeping people alive. Or – eventually, it would be come your job. Technically you held half a title as a Nurse. You’ve still got a lot of studying to do before you became a fully registered nurse. Though the doubts were slowly creeping in from the back of your mind, clouding your focus as you sat on the floor leaning your back against the couch. For some reason you preferred to sit on the floor with your studies spread across the coffee table. You know this wasn’t good for your posture, being a Nurse-in-training, you definitely knew better! At least everything was in reach and you didn’t have to lean yourself halfway over a dining room table to retrieve a document or textbook that happened to be a little bit too far from your reach. This was more or less how Gavin found you. Sitting on the floor with your studies surrounding you.

“Hey Babe. How’s your day?” He asked as he shut the door behind him, grey eyes taking in the copious amounts of paperwork and text books and forced himself to hold back a groan because he hated paperwork. The last thing he wanted to come home to was more paperwork, it reminded him too much of being back at the precinct. Of course, he didn’t outwardly complain because he knew this type of paperwork was necessary/essential. No way in hell he’d ever tell you to pack it away.

You didn’t even hear the keys jingle in the doorknob, or even hear him walk in until his voice suddenly yanked you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump almost ten feet in the air! “Jesus Gav! A bit of warning!” you gasped, hand flying to your chest in fright, as if you were attempting to calm your frantically beating heart down. “I gotta come home some time, babe.” He chuckled, clearly amused at catching you off guard. Your reaction was pretty fucking priceless. But his reaction slowly fell as realization dawned on his features. He had said goodbye to you this morning just as you were setting up for your study sesh. Except it had only been three text books and a small file of paperwork. Not this strewn of a mess. “Y/N? Have you been there the entire day?” Your eyebrows lifted as if Gavin just asked the most ridiculous question in the universe, but when your eyes glanced to the clock on the wall, they widened at the time. 6:30pm! What the hell!? Where the hell did the time go!? “Uh, I guess so? Then that also means I haven’t gotten as far as I’d like. I’ve still got a report to write, essays… Oh my god, I’ve got a test to study that I almost forgot about!” A hand lifted to your forehead in stress before sliding down your cheek and your E/C orbs glanced around at the mess. “I’ve got so much to do! Not enough time. I’m going to fail. Oh my god, I’m going to fail!” “You’re not going to fail.” Gavin’s firm voice spoke through your thoughts. This wasn’t the first time he’s helped you through a mild anxiety attack regarding your studies. Stepping over some of your books and paperwork, you watched as he made his way over to you, lifting his leg slightly as he swung it behind him so he could straddle the couch behind you, so that you now sat in between his legs. “You were born to be a Nurse. I’ve seen how you’ve patched me up. Your gentle with your hands. It’s one of the things I fell in love with.” You leaned back, head tilting back and upwards to glance back up at him. “Just my hands? Not my heart or my beautiful face?” Gavin quietly chuckled, “And your sense of humor.” Speaking of hands, you suddenly felt his hands on your shoulders. You immediately let out a groan of satisfaction as his fingertips firmly pressed into the knots on your shoulder. Gavin was quiet as he began massaging your shoulders; giving you a small break from your workload, knowing he can at least offer something to help you. Judging by the roll of your head and the small mewls of pleasure coming from you, he must be doing a good job! It wasn’t often Gavin massages you. Mostly due to his own hectic workload, and quite often he came home exhausted. But when he does, oh his fingers are magic and immediately have you trapped under their spell. “I don’t know Gavin…” you started, biting your bottom lip before letting it go. “I’m worried I’m in over my head. My passion is to help people and there are other ways of doing that. This whole medical study is a little too hard.” There was certainly no mistaking the disappointment in your voice and Gavin stopped in his ministrations for a moment before picking up again. “Y’know…when I studied to become a police officer, I didn’t think I’d get through.” He quietly opened up to you a little. It’s not often he does, he’s just not a very open person and you learned that it was easier to let him come to you when he’s ready rather than you question for answers. “I was just some dumb punk kid. Couldn’t spell. Kept pickin’ fights, worried I was gonna end up on the wrong side of the law indefinitely. But, uh… here I am. Y’know? The physical stuff was easy. Loved it. But the academic stuff? The studying, the essays? Man, it felt like bullshit. My final exam… y’know, the one that really matters…? Thought I’d fucked it up completely. I studied as hard as I could but it felt like nothing… I left that exam room, ready to quit. Wanted to quit. Hell, I even almost tore up my acceptance letter. There was just no way in hell I was gonna make it. But I did. And you will too. Just keep going, Y/N. Don’t give up. The world needs you as a Nurse. I need you as a Nurse. Who else is gonna patch me up?” You let out a sigh as Gavin kept working the knots on your shoulders, and his firm voice slowly soothing your worries. To others who didn’t know Gavin, one would assume he was being a bit harsh or blunt with his speech, but you knew the tones of endearment that lay within the message he was trying to send. “Take a breather, Y/N.” Gavin suggested when you didn’t respond to his little spiel that came from the heart. He didn’t take offense to you not replying. He knew you tend let things process a little before taking on board what was said. “I can’t. I have so much to do.” You said as you leant sideways on his knee, a hand waving at the mess of papers and textbooks everywhere. “Your burnt out. You’re gonna get shit done tonight. You don’t think I’ve been where you are? You’re gonna just sit there and re-read the same question for the next three hours, trying to make sense of it. And you’re gonna write fuck all because your brain is tired.” His fingers had stopped massaging across your skin, but they had now begun to caress softly across your shoulders before dropping to your upper arms and giving them a squeeze of reassurance. He’s head coming to lean down and press against the side of yours as you both sat there for a moment in silence. You hadn’t argued against him so, to him, that meant you were likely contemplating what he was suggesting and would heed his advice in stopping for the night. His grey eyes spotted something in one of your text books and frowned, trying to make out what the fuck it was… “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to something that represented a certain type of sweet. “It’s a spleen.” “Looks like a jelly bean to me.” “Yeah, well it wouldn’t taste like one.” “How would you know? Have you ever tasted one before? Are you secretly a cannibal that I don’t know about? … ‘cause that’s kinda hot. Let’s do it!” Joking of course, he attacked your neck with kisses, making you smile and the small sound of laughter escaped. Gavin’s heart fluttered just a bit knowing he made you smile, even if it was just a small smile… “C’mon Y/N. Pack all this away. Start fresh tomorrow.” “Yes Detective.” You murmured, teasingly using his title which you did every now and then. It always earned a small sound of laughter from him. With a kiss to your temple, Gavin wiggled himself out of being trapped on the couch by your body, and left you to pack up your paperwork. He would have helped but he didn’t want to mess up any system you had going (working on case files at the Precinct, he knew what it was like to have a mess of papers spread out across the table but for it to also be an ‘organised mess’). You barely paid any mind to where Gavin was going, assuming he’d gone to take a shower or something. You focused on packing things away, feeling a little more at ease after Gavin was able to place your mind to rest. This is one of the things you adored so much about him; at first glance he looks like a gruff person you wouldn’t dare be friends with, but underneath all that… there’s a much sweeter side to him. It took him ages to show it, but you saw his potential, caught glimpses of it beneath his rough-boy exterior. Hence why you never gave up on him.

Everything in two neat piles, you carried both to the dining room table and set them there, ready to tackle tomorrow. For now, you needed to focus on cooking dinner because even though it’s been a long day for you, it’s been an even longer day for the poor Detective. And the last thing he needed to come home to was a stressed out girlfriend. “Hey, Gav? What do you want for dinner?” You called out from the kitchen, hand resting on the countertop with a finger idly tapping away in thought because you hadn’t prepared anything earlier. “Don’t worry about dinner” Gavin said as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, making you jump ten feet in the air. Again, making him chuckle at your reaction. “Ran you a bubble bath. Go relax. I’ll handle tonight.” Had your hand not been resting on the countertop, you would’ve fainted at the offer. All this time Gavin had prepared you a bubble bath while you were tidying up your papers, despite his own long-ass day. How the hell did you get so lucky to have him? How the hell did people not see that he was such a kind man beneath his rough exterior? “I… but what about dinner?” “I’ll order pizza. Now go. Water’s gettin’ cold.” You stared at him just a moment longer before the relief washed over your body and your shoulders sagged, hand sliding off the bench. “Sounds good.” You softly murmured before walking up to him and pressing a kiss against his cheek. You didn’t see it as you made your way to the bathroom, but Gavin had a stupid smile on his face. He may not show it in all the right ways, but he was head over heels for you. He fucking worshipped the ground you walked on. You were that softness he needed in the world of cruelty he was exposed to either by his job or his own damn actions. You soaked in the bath for a good long while – or until your stomach started growling loudly and ruined the mental aesthetic you had going on. The last thing you expected Gavin to do was run you a bath, much less a bubble bath. Just add it to one of the many things you loved about him. Like it was said, he doesn’t show his love or appreciation in normal ways. But the massage, the bubble bath, the taking over the evening’s plans so you can relax despite his own long and stressful day… those were the ways he shows he cares. It wasn’t long before you were snug in your pyjama’s and followed the scent of Pizza that sat on the coffee table, Gavin patiently waiting for you to join him before he began eating. You hated that he does that, he needs to eat. No need to wait for you. But then again, you adored that he had some gentlemanly values. Because, looking at him (or with your first impression of him), you thought he lacked them entirely. There was a bottle of water waiting for you too, as sweet as Gavin was to take everything into consideration, it made you feel even more guilty because he’s had a long day and you haven’t even asked about his day, or how he was going! You quietly sat down and took your half of the cardboard box that had your pizza on it. “Hey. You’re gonna make a great Nurse one day.” Glancing over to him, you saw the sincerity in his grey eyes. He 100% believed in you. No doubts. Your eyes quickly shifted to the kitchen table before glancing back at Gavin again. He’s right. You can do this. You’ll do it for him. A gentle smile spread across your face, blush lightly tinging your cheeks. “Thank you, Gavin. For everything.” “Hey, c’mon now. How many times have I come home late or pulled an all-nighter? It’s the least I could do. Besides. You got no idea how hot you’re gonna look in your uniform.” “They’ll be scrubs Gavin. Not the 1950s get-up.” “Still gonna look hot babe. And ‘m still gonna rip ‘em off you.” You chuckled softly at the underlining compliment before moving a little closer to him on the couch, resting against his arm. To which he moved it slightly so you could rest in the crook of his side while you ate. “I mean it Y/N. You’re gonna be great and I’m so proud of you.”

#gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #DBH Gavin #gavin reed imagines #gavin reed imagine #dbh gavin imagine #DBH Imagines #DBH Requests #gavin reed soft #gavin reed one-shot #gavin reed one shot #gavin reed is my weakness #dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader #detroit become human #detroit become human imagine #detroit become human request #oh god please don't judge me

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worldcakecakecake · 5 years

Text

The Angel of Venice

Ludwig is an archeologist who gets a big assignment of researching a recently discovered statue. As he is doing his usual inspection with his touches against the stone, he ends up breaking part of a curse that turns the statue human.

Feliciano was cursed long ago, why and how he does not know, continuing to suffer transformations from stone to skin. Ludwig intends to fix this and find answers. Together they will traverse Europe looking for clues, stories and even an adventure that would help them solve the mystery and break the full curse before it’s too late.

Here I am, starting a whole new story that I have so desperately wanted to share for so long. This idea has been in my head since July 2016. An idea that got formed on my first ever trip around Europe, but never got written on a document until last year, finally getting formed and it makes me incredibly happy to be able to post the first chapter. All the locations that will appear in this story are all places I was in as a sort of tribute and token to how wonderful that trip had been.

Nothing was researched except for some small things so there is bound to be a lot of inaccuracies. This was done for enjoyment, not to exhaust myself with vast academic readings. I apologize highly if I happen to offend anyone. You can message and we can talk about it if you wish and I can fix it appropriately.

As Throwing Cellphones and Office Sweet, this story has a draft page and the next two chapters are done. Still, it can take me some time to edit them next so I can’t promise a weekly update as I had with the two other mentioned stories. I will just them post them once they’re done and sadly, be prepared to have to wait once the draft page is empty and I have to fill it up to be able to post again somewhat quickly. It expect it to be as long as Throwing Cellphones had been, perhaps a bit longer, but we’ll see about that later.

I hope you enjoy this new endeavor!

Chapter 1

Flashing lights, aggravating crowds, reporters wanting immediate answers, shoving their microphones with the usual questions that Ludwig had heard enough of ever since the discovery. They followed him all throughout the parking lot, with the consistency of noise, of begging, of demand, and yet he remained in the same stoic expression, eyes forward and his mouth shut. His secretary, Roderich, had advised him to simply remain silent and move along to the main doors of the museum, which he managed easy entrance to with the help of guards who did well in pushing away the massive crowds, bringing Ludwig to the relaxation of its marbled walls, its silence, visitors watching in elegance and trying to avoid obvious glances to the known archeologist. His visit was a well-known one, mentioned in all kinds of articles and journals, an attention that he had been aggravating about and the museum knew well about, especially after the director, Francis Bonnefoy, warned them to not add to the stress he was surely feeling with everything that was going on. Said Frenchman was the very first one to greet him, with a handshake and having a worker take Ludwig’s coat elsewhere.

“I apologize greatly for this, I hadn’t thought that the news would be this strong. I should have done something to avoid the information of your coming and the whereabouts of the statue being said publicly.”

“It’s to be expected. After all, it was found in all old dungeon, covered for centuries under an old bookstore in Venice with an anonymous sculptor,” Ludwig reminded, taking lead in their head through the halls.

“Just the kind of thing to have the art world fretting,” Francis pointed as he followed behind him.

“What work has been done?” Ludwig asked.

“Only the usual cleansing. Other than that nobody has dared to do anything until your inspection.”

“Anything revealed after it?”

“No, just some assumptions on the artist after some examination.”

“Cominelli? Sebenico?” Ludwig wondered after the first initial pictures and information he had been sent.

“Some wondered Alessi, Tagliapietra, even a lost sculpture of Michelangelo or Bernini.” Francis had to admit that it was all rather exciting, taking a card to open one of the restricted double doors that led to the storage basement of the museum.

“But we already checked through all their writings and found no such mentioning of this statue.”

“Any other sculptors?”

“We had a team in charge of this, we found nothing. Perhaps were dealing with a more obscure artist.”

“Perhaps this was the only statue he ever made in his lifetime.”

“With the details, the impeccable form and perfection…I highly doubt it.” Francis was sure.

They occasionally met with Interns who followed with their own questions, wanting to use such a chance as having the famous archeologist, Ludwig Beilschmidt, in their own privacy, all to which Ludwig answered in quick phrases as to not stall. He really couldn’t say more until he had the trending and suddenly acclaimed statue right before him, and the closer they were in its proximity, the more he was reminded of his excitement, quickening him to the point that Francis had to basically run to match his pace.

They soon met heavier guarded doors, with all kinds of scanning devices and even computers that Francis used a good minute to just unlock and let themselves proper entrance to this area of the deep basement. It was a small hall with labeled rooms, documenting name of the statues and the personnel permitted to work on it.

Room number 1317, name: The Angel of Venice, was the one, one of the largest in the hall, too large since the statue it held was not that immense but just the proper size of any young man, taking center, space just enough for anybody to come close, inspect around, tables holding all kinds of books, files, utensils, supplies, from the cleaners, the interns, Francis, who was the director, and now Ludwig, placing his own bag in one of those many banks as he let himself stare in awe to this new majesty.

The statue was that of an angel, a boy, the age rather obscure. Some features made him older, perhaps twenty-three, but others, like his youthful face and the smoothness of his captured movements could hint at him being sixteen or eighteen. He had the typical curls of these kinds of statues, one in particular standing above all the rest as some kind of ruler, all parted at the center, letting the frontal bangs frame and show the beauty of his facial features. He was naked, showing a delicate body, slim but plump in certain areas that made his figure excellent and tempting. His whole body showed his extend as he seemed to rise upward, going for a jump as if to catch or stop something falling from an imaginary heaven. The wings at his back moved well along with him, caught in that very wind as the very piece of fabric that went around his body, covering his genitals discreetly, accenting his voluptuous figure and his grace as an angel.

Francis had seen this statue enough times before him like this and yet he always fell into the same awe, the same admiring and captivation that left him silent and pensive. Ludwig didn’t mock or insult, he understood, for it was exactly what he was going through, especially after this was the very first time he was watching the statue in person.

Beautiful…utterly beautiful. What a chance he was given to work on this, how grateful he was for his position, for the time he will have to analyze and find information to clear up the history of this majesty that was before them now.

“Any idea of what year it’s from?” Ludwig asked after he shook himself back to their original concentration.

“Fifteenth century we assume. Some of our interns speculate perhaps early sixteenth century. We are not clear on a specific year and we wondered you could pinpoint.”

“No writings mentioning?”

“From what we’ve searched, no.”

“Yet you’re sure it’s Italian. Venetian?”

“Positive. I’m sure you’re seeing it clearly as well,” Francis was confident and Ludwig had to give him the right, but it did not stop his eyes from scanning any other details that could point differently.

“It was found in Venice after all,” Francis assured with an expectant smile.

“How will my scheduling work to check on it?” Ludwig wondered, ever as diligent, Francis expected as much.

“We’re prepared to offer you whatever time you need,” Francis confided.

“And accommodations?” Although the museum was located in the mainland, it was still in an important center, with it being the port that would bring most of its relics to display in the islands, as this particular statue was set to. As so, it meant that it would be pricey. Of course, Ludwig had the funds, but he rather preferred to have as much given as possible with the kind of work and time he would need for this.

“We can give you an apartment to your use for as long as you need, with keys and cards to enter the museum whenever you wish,” Francis coated.

“Very well then,” Ludwig was decided, turning to face Francis, finally away from the statue to show his decree. “I will start in a fortnight. Give me this time to settle myself as well as to find any other outer information. I know you mentioned your workers and interns tried to, but I have to check upon this by myself as well. When the statue was found, are you sure it was alone? Was it with any other items? Documents?”

“It was in a cellar hidden well underneath a book store. No parchment, no utensils, it was truly alone except for the water that occasionally flooded the space.”

“Do you still have the contacts to the owners and workers of this book store?”

“Yes.”

“I require them.”

“We already interviewed the owners.”

“As I said, I will do my own findings,” Ludwig determined.

Francis nodded and accepted to whatever could be of help. It was why they called him, it was why they confided in him to give them the piece of completion to this statue that would help them to finally put it on exhibition and present an answer to an incredibly curious mystery.

“We’re all upstairs ready for your contract signing,” Francis could finally present.

“Very well. Shall we go then?”

They turned and left the statue to its accustomed loneliness and darkness.

“-It was just as you suspected, the Wolanski are not the original owners of the building,” Roderich informed in the call, going through the notes and files on his own desk back at Vienna. “They were wealthy Polish tourists who simply bought the building on a whim and took ownership of the store. It took a six minute conversation to find out they have no idea of the mechanisms and fundings, they don’t even know their inventory or the names of their workers, but they did have their numbers, so it helps us and perhaps it would serve you better to contact them instead.”

“Figured as much. Do you have all the workers?” Ludwig asked from the comfort of his own given apartment, at the table going through files and the directions of the store on his laptop.

“Yes, I even took the liberty of calling. Some of them are newer members who’ve only been there for a couple of months, but there’s this one girl, Erminia Sessa. She’s been there for years, in fact, she’s the granddaughter of the past owner and the one who actually found the statue.”

There, that was the person he needed to talk to.

“Did you tell them about me?”

“Yes, told them you might be visiting sometime this week to gather some answers.”

“Perfect. I’ll see if I can head there tomorrow. You know how busy and crowded these ports can get.”

“The museum didn’t give you better contacts for that?”

“No. They probably expect me to clear everything from this hotel room. I should have mentioned it to them now that I think about it.”

“How odd, you forgetting such details,” Roderich mocked.

“There’s a lot on my mind about this,” Ludwig tried to excuse, groaning and straining as if the pile of everything just landed newly upon him.

“You are blessed to have me organizing what I can then, and that I even take time away from my piano playing to help you on this. You should consider raising my pay.”

How haughty.

“If we get the full story to this statue, it could be possible.” Ludwig at least gave him that expectation.

“We better get to it. Leave me be so I can keep finding what I can.” Roderich just hanged up without warning, leaving Ludwig quite perplexed, but he accepted and focused instead on other information.

He took one of the early morning yachts the museum offered him on a short notice, part of the early touristic crowds that filled the streets annoyingly, seeming to make the morning sunshine worst. Ludwig tried to avoid as much closeness to people as he could, but in these small streets, with the beginning of summer, impossible. He ended up accepting the bumps, the close trips, even the occasional comments on his stature, on his attraction, on questioning over the long coat jacket he wore under this strong sun. He would scare them away with his heavy stare, denial or even scoff depending on how insisting the person was being. It was a relief to have finally met a somewhat empty street, deep within the confinements of the city that didn’t make it known to the usual wave of tourists. There was a pawn shop, a fine jewelry store, a café and finally the book shop he was looking for.

‘La stella dell’orizzonte’ it was called, the glass decorated and presenting the books that would surely grab an interest to the public. When he entered, only a singular couple was there, going over the books in the Christian shelves, all organized neatly along with the other sections, a stack here and there creating pillars as if to hold the very ceiling. He spotted spiral stairs that would lead to another floor, to more books, to perhaps a view, or even a little café.

“Signore Beilschmidt?” A female asked, stopping Ludwig’s wandering, having him turn to meet the figure of a young woman, shy, rather hesitant, but surely ready to be compliant to whatever the blond would say.

“Are you Erminia Sessa?”

She nodded.

“Greetings. As my secretary has probably already told you, I’m here from the museum of Padua. They recently hired me to research the statue that I was later informed you found.”

“I was the one who called the museum, I wasn’t contacted again after they came to pick it up,” she seemed rather disappointed about that.

“They didn’t?”

“They didn’t think I would know anything.”

“I was told by my secretary that your grandfather used to own the book shop. Could you tell me about this, as well as your experience on how you found this statue? Anything you know will be of great use,” Ludwig seemed to plead.

She nodded and ushered him to follow, bringing him into the inner halls of the shop away from any usual commotion that might arise.

“This building is old, I’m telling you, centuries old. My grandfather used to hold documents concerning it from as early as the fourteen hundreds, passed along by all kinds of families until somehow ours got it, from nineteenth century on until the Wolanski bought it from us,” she began to explain as the books disappeared, as they began their entering unto more eldered walls.

“Is it possible to ask of you all those documents?”

“I’ll have to find and organize them, but I’ll send scanned copies as soon as I have them,” she determined, which assured Ludwig enough.

They took a narrowed staircase down to the basement of the building, humid, with an awful odor and the walls so old it seemed like they would collapse at any moment. Ludwig didn’t understand how it managed to keep the upper areas standing.

“From those old documents, my family realized that this building was meant to have three rooms in the basement area, but for as long as possible we only knew of two. I myself was very curious about it, as the documents mentioned that it had been a very important room and that…something was hidden there.” They reached the bottom, a hall showing two opened areas, surely those two rooms of unimportance, Ludwig seeing that they simply used them as some sort of utility closets. “After reading and watching so many mysteries, I kept coming down here hoping to find some secret entrance, something abnormal and then I noticed it.” By this moment, she had grabbed her flashlight, for the hall was darkened and lights from the upper floor weren’t enough to show exactly what she had found. Ludwig assumed she had broken through one of the walls for she pointed to a wreck, probably done with a sledgehammer, the hole enough for passage, one that they both could use and go through easily.

“I noticed something off with the echoes, then during acqua alta the pouring noises that always resounded across the building, even how the pillars were older compared to the frontal wall. That’s when I knew that there had to be something there.”

“So you went ahead and just destroyed it.” It seemed too brash for Ludwig.

“I was sure and curious, so yes, I did just that, and that’s when I found it.” She meant the statue, remembering clear her awe, her impression, halted to the spot thinking it perhaps a dream, lost in her discovery, her mind begging answers to a sure story.

She pointed her flashlights to sewers at the top and bottom, the walls still wet and even letting new water continuing to drip below, already puddles forming, some leaving out back into the other sewers.

“Throughout the years this room kept flooding, not to mention that they sealed it completely,” she began to wonder. “The documents don’t specify exactly what was in there and why, just that there was something, but no one dared to find out. Many were superstitious, including my own grandfather, so they thought some evil was locked away and they decided not to deal with it.”

“What do you think this means?” Ludwig asked.

She only shrugged. She was only saying speculations. “Someone tried to hide it, someone tried to hide whatever proof of this statue. Why and what for, I’m sorry, Mr. Beilschmidt, I don’t know, there’s nothing else I can say.” She was apologetic, but Ludwig understood.

“And are you positive that it was alone, nothing else with it?”

“I’m very sure.”

He was once again at a dead end.

He sighed disappointedly but thanked her, reminding her to send those documents before he settled off back into the earlier masses, only adding to his annoyance and ineptitude.

Erminia had sent every scanned document on an email attachment, there for Ludwig to inspect the moment he returned back to his rented apartment after the dinner he was forced to attend at Francis Bonnefoy’s request with the rest of the archeologists and interns who were working with the Angel of Venice. Honestly, going through these readings was actually quite relaxing after having been forced to socialize, even though he remained much of the diner silent and only nodding to whatever was directed his way. Although indeed these documents showcased quite a lot of enlightening information on the business of this building as early as the fifteenth century, there was nothing that could connect to the statue. In the years that they speculated the statue must have been carved, there was a large blank in the row of names, Erminia admitting that the documents concerning that particular family were lost. The owners who held it afterward found no use to keep them as that blank family barely spent any time there and was only using the building as some sort of storage or even a study.

Ludwig groaned to his hand at this, settling off to sleep decided that he would visit the museum the next morning.

With all the pass keys he was given, Ludwig went right inside the museum, carrying his bags and walking about as if it was all his owing and home. All greeted him like he was but another of the staff, not minding at all as he went straight to the basement and straight to where they kept the Angel of Venice. Lucky for him, he had had the room all to himself, and as he checked the scheduling, turns out there wouldn’t be anybody down in this room for about two days. Perfect, he would use that time to the best of his abilities.

He took out everything; papers, files, documents, his laptop, gloves, spray, some snacks, even a thin blanket and pillow…if he had to stay there until he had some new kind of answer, so be it. He had everything organized well enough in one of the many tables presented, its direction towards the statue, a perfect angle for Ludwig to capture in all its graciousness, only for him, only for him to inspect and be sure that the decade they decided was the one that it actually was. He prepared his gloves and took one of the many inspecting utensils, coming forward and beginning this new search.

In the process he realized that he was in fact taller than the statue, which meant it was easier for him to move around him without the help of a mini escalator, the only difficult part being the hand that rose upward above his head. He made sure to take in every detail, every dirt, every form, he taped, he heard, he let the gloved hand feel across every expanse, every bend, every depth and fullness. He rid of some stains that the staff had forgotten, shined some parts that could be manageable, the tiniest part exposing more of what he needed. He let himself map the statue in his mind with just its tact, spending all the necessary hours he needed until everything was well explored. He kept a notebook he constantly returned to, panning out all the details, pairing them all up to a movement, a year it was mostly used, going back to his computer to check through documents, articles, journals and other eBooks to be sure.

It was late, twenty-three, the museum closed to the public and Ludwig was just riding his gloves, with no answers but the same ones the interns had decided. No matter what he inspected today, it only assured that it was those years that were blank in the documents. He groaned and threw the gloves harshly to the table, calming his breaths, wanting to bring his mind to a better focus, to a new angle to look at this.

Maybe he needed better lighting, maybe less, maybe he should look under it, maybe he should take a piece and send it to a lab for inspection or maybe he could just try again. This time he left the gloves on the table and dared himself to use his simple tact, with heat and nerves to feel it to better detail. This was surely not allowed and if Ludwig was being honest, he would have the person who dare touch it unprotected fired and never to step on the museum again…but he had to try every way, besides, he was the main archeologist for the statue, surely things like this were allowed as long as he was careful, quick and he could clean it well before any x-rays could notice.

His inspection began once again, the softness of the marble now fresh for his palm, cold, surprisingly smooth, moving on ahead in such a way that Ludwig’s mind was left blank. What was he doing this for again? All his mind held was the form, the sudden indecency, noticing how seductive those thighs were formed, the extend of his legs that his hands went down on for no apparent reason. A hand wrapped itself around the waist of the figure, the soft stomach just as alluring, perfection, beauty. There was suddenly no duty, no job, but a kind of loving that made him forget that he was letting himself be swayed by an old statue, even resting into his neck, his body tightening to it, to just about every part of him dedicated to this exploration and odd application. It was intimate, somehow he could feel heat, the statue’s hardness for a moment the soft of real skin, taking breaths, alive in his arms to be that sudden lover he could enjoy for the night.

Once his eyes opened, meeting with the dullness of those empty sockets did he really come into the realization of what he was doing. He sighed, disappointed in how he let himself act on such a sudden and passionate impulse. What if someone came in and saw him like that? He would definitely be ridiculed.

He looked down to his watch, realizing how late it was, at least being assured that no one would be at the museum but perhaps some inspecting guard. He sighed, readying himself for a night he would remain awake for. He picked his laptop, settled closer to the angel and continued on marking off years and putting in any he had an idea about, comparing with other statues he had worked with and trying other guesses.

The last time he had checked, it had been about two a.m. when he started drifting, swiveling from side to side trying to keep his composure, but the rest on the floor won and soon he found himself in that lay. Uncomfortable it was but it was the most peaceful sleep he managed in his position.

He had done enough, he had time the next day to go on. He was already advancing more than most in this museum. What could a harmless lay do now?

He let himself be engulfed completely, missing the shine, the blinding light and suddenly the movement and the first starting breath after hundreds of years.

The artificial lighting seemed to glow more intensely, annoyingly so and no matter the shadow over him, he could still feel the burning throughout his whole body, especially after he had laid on the floor for the night. His head felt incredibly comfortable though, lying upon something soft, warm, and even a nice scent. He didn’t recall taking his pillow…actually, who was tracing the front of his hair? The fingers were velvety, lulling, they tempted Ludwig to rest on and for a moment he was a victim of that pull…until he noticed the naked creamy thighs he was surrounded with.

He stood urgently and with an alarming shout, not expecting to see the young man who was knelt on the floor, naked, only a single thin fabric covering the indecency. He seemed quite relaxed as Ludwig quickly adjusted himself, leaning his head, confused on the articles of clothes Ludwig fixed, on the tables and chairs he tried to hold himself in his panic, at the lights that shone above, the simplicity of this room with weirder gadgets in the corners that seemed to come from the imaginative sketches of his masters.

“What is this? What are you doing here?” Ludwig fretted, dreading that he didn’t remember where he put his cellphone or where that damn button was to call security.

“Cosa stai dicendo?” The intruder still asked, his eyes and expression as lost as a child would be, his bronze eyes solely on Ludwig as if expecting him to answer more clearly now and explain what happened.

Ludwig managed to find his phone between a pile of papers he was reading during the night and quickly settled on dialing the first number that appeared. In the waiting rings he finally took notice of something that should had been clear the moment he awoke.

The statue…it wasn’t there, and as he turned around, it was nowhere, no trace, no remnants, the only thing that sat on its closest spot was the strange naked boy. In his anger and growing desperation, he hanged up the call and slapped it harshly on the table.

“Where is it?” He threatened, pointing menacingly.

The boy jumped, easily trembling, crawling back, whimpering even. He looked very close to crying and for a single moment Ludwig felt pity, for a second calming before the emptiness of the room reminded him of what this boy was suspected of doing.

“Don’t act like such a fool and tell me this instant where you hid it. This is nothing to be using to play games and it can cost you gravely. Now, please, before this-” as he gazed on to the boy he began to notice something rather astonishing. Take out the tears that were shinning his eyes, take out the warmth, the colors, the movements…the boy looked remarkably like… no, foolish, no possible way.

“What kind of trick are you playing?” An exaggerated performance it had to be. Was he being tapped? Did his older brother decide to get back on him this badly?

“Signore, per favore, Io non so di che sta parlando o dove sto,” the boy continued to tremble, tears evident, still Ludwig not falling to whatever highly develop farce they were making.

“Inglese?” Ludwig tried to connect, but the boy still negated in a nervous shake. He sighed desperately and tried another language, “Deutsch?”

To his surprise, the boy actually nodded, responding, “ein bisschen.”

“What are you doing here then?” He continued to ask as menacingly in his native tongue.

“I-I don’t know, I-I really, really don’t remember that well,” he continued to sob in broken German.

“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Vicious, on the brink on throwing himself on him and demanding more.

Drunk, this boy must have been drunk then.

The boy shook even more, practically laying on the floor defenseless, arms over himself as some sort of protection. “I can’t! I can’t! All I remember is my name and some vague details. I wish I could tell you more, but really, I can’t! Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me!” The boy pleaded enough for Ludwig to give up into.

Okay, perhaps he was some escaped loon, maybe the most elaborate prank in his life. Whatever it was, now it should surely end. Yet there was the boy still in his tears, shaking, and now he was getting cold. Curse his sympathy.

He went to the table to get a coat to drape over him, the boy taking instant grab and warmth of it. It stilled the shaking, helping along with bringing calm to the room, for Ludwig to think, to inspect.

Okay, Ludwig would have surely awakened with the ruckus it should take to move a statue like the Angel of Venice out of this highly secured room. If he hadn’t, then surely guards would have noticed, and alarms would have rung enough as another emergency awakening. He checked his phone again and he was sent absolutely nothing concerning any disappearance with the statue.

Maybe it was placed elsewhere in the room, but there was just no other kind of storage or locker. It wasn’t stolen, it wasn’t misplaced, there were no messages alerting him of it, and his eyes fell on the boy again.

The boy was back to his trembling with the blond man’s intense glare, hiding deeper into the coat he had given him.

“What’s your name?” Ludwig went back to interrogating.

“Fe-Feli-Feliciano,” he at least managed to utter.

“Full name!”

“I…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? It’s your family name!”

“I-I’m sorry, but I don’t remember it!”

“How could you possibly-” he had gotten too loud, harsh, he even raised his hands in desperation which surely sent wrong signals to the boy. He cowered once again and completely covered himself in the jacket, cocooned, only shivers and sobs escaping.

Ludwig took a breath, heading away from his direction to get a moment to order himself again.

Breathe, breathe, reasonable explanations, reasonable explanations, he kept thinking to himself.

“Where are you from?” He went back.

Feliciano replied with a heavy negative nod under his shield.

“How did you get here?”

The same nod.

“What can you actually remember?” He couldn’t hold his angered tone, getting a shriek from the other.

“That my name is Feliciano and uh…I remember waking up here.” The boy peeked to look about the room, the same lost expression, but igniting curiosity.

“Anything before that?”

Silence as Feliciano really tried to dive into his mind to get some sort of clue, but the same image kept repeating.

“I remember um… a painting room…”

“A painting room?”

“Mhm…and…a lot of scattering, someone is angry and…” he really tried to make more sense of it, but that only memory was still much of a blur he couldn’t decipher.

“And?” Ludwig still expected.

“I…can’t…remember anything else.” He trembled expecting the blonde’s anger to expand to its worst, this time truly expecting a hit, and so he reverted to the protection of the jacket.

Ludwig only groaned highly, his hands keeping a harsh hold of the near table. He was tempted to throw it over, but such a disastrous situation was avoided by a sudden knock against the door.

“Mr. Beilschmidt?” Someone asked.

His panic only intensified, petrified to the spot, only turning his gaze to the boy, who perked from the jacket at the voice of another.

The knock repeated. “Mr. Beilschmidt, is everything all right?”

“Ye-yes, everything is fine.” Goddamn the trembling as he turned from the boy to the door.

“Are you sure? They told me you were here all night. Do you need anything?”

“Uh, no, no, I have everything, thank you.”

“I still need to come in and make sure. May I open the door?”

He had to be quick, his eyes in a fretful search throughout the room hoping for any sudden idea. His eyes landed on a folded white blanket in one of the tables. Perfect.

Trying that his quickened steps weren’t hard, he picked it up and headed to the boy, harshly picking him up by the arm and dragging him to where the statue was originally standing. Feliciano held back and tried to go back to the shell of his jacket.

“Listen to me!” Ludwig commanded through gritted teeth, flaring and tightening the hold he had of him. Feliciano was compliant, albeit because of the deep fear Ludwig instilled. “I’m going to put you in a position, and I need you to stay in it and not make a single movement.” He had studied the statue enough, he knew exactly how to capture it with this sudden model, Feliciano easily moving to Ludwig’s pulls until he was in a decided stand. Ludwig moved back, trying to ignore the fact that he was completely naked, the fabric under him with no possible way to keep it breezing in the air. He didn’t have the wings or halo either, but hopefully the visitor wouldn’t question it. As Ludwig gazed, he saw more of the proof on how Feliciano was an exact replica of the statue. He fitted to the image of white marble, that light that came bouncing reflecting him in heavenly glow, like magic that reminded him…no, no, no. He groaned at believing such nonsense.

The knocking again. “Sir? Is there somebody there? I heard some speaking earlier.”

“Oh, I’m just…” he quickly placed the blanket over Feliciano, making sure he was covered well before he gave the approval, “you can come in.”

In an instant a guard entered, inspecting well the room before his gaze finally landed on Ludwig. “Ah, you’re well.”

“Yes, um, sorry, I was having a call with my secretary.”

“Not a problem, just making sure.” And then his eyes landed on the draped statue. “What happened?”

“Was clearing some dust and covered the statue to protect it,” he excused.

“All right. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Couldn’t he just leave?

“I’m perfectly fine. I’ll call Bonnefoy if I need anything.”

The guard gave him thumbs up and one last smile before he shut the door. He gave a couple of more seconds before he could take a breath of relief, then quickly freeing Feliciano from the blanket. Feliciano understood enough to break out from the position, freeing his arms and legs from the strain, even if it still felt like he had been in it for such a long time.

“Let’s get straight to the point. Are you the statue?” He thought he could start to get that nonsense out of the way.

“The statue? What?” He was just as lost.

“The statue, the Angel of Venice.”

Still the same confusion and lost look in his eyes. Ludwig groaned yet again. This was getting hopeless.

An idea shone suddenly, one that would prove whatever dream was taking place. He sighed, they would have to wait.

“Are you hungry?”

Feliciano perked with such a glow that he might as well flown to the ceiling. He nodded, with a wide smile that showed more than enough eagerness. Of course.

Luckily the museum had a cafeteria, with a variety of selections and Ludwig decided on taking as much as possible. He received weird looks over the large bag he was hauling across the museum halls but halted their curiosities by saying he was just hungry.

Ludwig had told Feliciano to remain in the covers of the blanket for if anyone came, but he did his best to arrive as quickly as possible. He placed every package on one of the tables, the boy instantly curious in just…the plastics, the lettering, trying to read an Italian so different from what he knew. While Ludwig settled on some packaged tagliatelle with mushroom, bacon and chicken, Feliciano poked his pesto rosso pasta with the plastic fork…that he had stared to just as perplexed. Every little thing was a new discovery to him, from the vibration in Ludwig’s cellphone, the opening card to the room, the water bottles and just the rest of the foods he had brought. Ludwig assumed he had gotten typical things from Italy, but some tastes exploded wonderfully anew in Feliciano’s tongue, undiscovered and unfamiliar, getting him more gluttonous to try more and more.

“That’s…panna cotta,” Ludwig explained to the new dessert in Feliciano’s hand. He kept poking it with his spoon, playing with the elasticity, raising it to his nose to smell, wondering for the longest while.

“It’s sweet like…cake.” It was enough of a persuasion to get him to try, and like all the rest of the plates, he had glowed, smiling wide and swinging his feet. It had basically been this for the entire day, that panna cotta the last of what Ludwig had brought. He looked to all the empty bowls and plastic pieces, hoping to get some new idea to keep them entertained in the meantime. Night was finally approaching, Ludwig taking notice with the clock in his phone or just how tired he was starting to get.

“Um…sir?” Feliciano instigated for once.

“What?” Ludwig didn’t mean to sound so harsh and annoyed.

Feliciano shook, but after focusing on the warmth of the jacket he still wore, he breathed and braved enough to continue. “Can I…Can I know your name?”

“Ludwig,” he answered coldly.

“Ludwig?” Feliciano tested it out well in his tongue.

“Ludwig Beilschmidt. What is the need of knowing?”

“I just…wanted to properly address you,” he shied.

Ludwig sighed, after all it would be needed depending on what this outcome could mean. He still wanted to hope that it was after all nonsense and that this boy was just playing with him and would give him back the statue. As his mind returned to the statue, instantly it went back to the questioning he had been working on for the last few days, still going on with his wondering.

If this boy turned out to be the ridiculousness it could be…he had the chance to have all the answers easily handed to him. If he could get him to remember…to crack everything to create the opening to let this be the find of the decade, he would get millions and recognitions unbelievable.

“You really don’t remember your surname?” He asked. If he knew, perhaps he could find it in the documents.

“Va…Va…” He really tried to think.

“I really need you to try hard.” Ludwig even neared, ready to catch that answer he could get.

“Val…Vale…” It was as if his mind had frozen, actually his entire being began to freeze in that very stand his last whisper took.

The bottle Ludwig was holding fell to the floor in the shock of what he saw next.

Like a sprinkling of dust, he saw himself as parts of the boy’s skin began to take the familiar grey and white of marble, a spreading that continued from his sides, to his legs, chest and face. There was a dim light to signify the completion and once again Ludwig was standing face to face with the Angel of Venice.

The panna cotta had fallen without the balance of human movement, yet now the statue sat exactly as he had last enjoyed from the dessert, halo and wings back on him, a new piece of fabric over him, the elder one gone from the spot Ludwig had placed it on.

After various minutes of astounded staring…Ludwig settled on slapping himself repeatedly.

No, he didn’t awaken, the statue was there, as the last form the boy took, and the fantasy he had thought could be a possibility turned out to be the reality. Of course, a cascade of questions bombarded instantly on his minds and he didn’t know which should be addressed first. He had to fight through the headache as he had to continue to think and straighten what the hell was going on. In his disarray, he noticed that Feliciano didn’t take his original position, which meant that once again he had had to hide him until he transformed …if it did happen again. Still, precautions needed to be taken and a plan must be instantly set into motion. He had one simple idea he could start with and he had to leave immediately to get it to work well. Bless his strength and that he could move Feliciano to his original spot, blanket over him, taken his key card with him and already an idea of what to tell Francis.

chapter 2 >

#gerita #the angel of venice #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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yoshidaspan · 4 years

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My earliest memory is of myself wishing to have the attention of my lifelong best friend, Levi. At the time, Levi and I were playing with a boy who was a year older than us, Austin. I don’t remember what was happening specifically, but I do remember what I was feeling. I was filled with a sense of longing. Longing for Levi and Austin’s attention. For their approval. That is the farthest back in my life that I can remember.

As a kid, I was...eccentric. I liked weird stuff, preferred to be by myself, and constantly felt out of place. I was different on a fundamental level. I wanted the approval of others, but was filled with terrible insecurities and self doubt any time I would try to interact with anyone. I saw normal jokes and social interactions as people despising me. It didn’t help that I was extremely skinny, had almost no sense of self worth, and had a terrible speech disorder which made it hard to connect and communicate with people.

I was also filled with a burning competitive spirit. I had to be the best. At everything. I had to be the smartest, the fastest, and the most dedicated to anything and everything under the sun. This was probably cause by living in my brother’s shadow and the fact that I was a pretty smart kid academically. Whenever I wasn’t the absolute best, I felt a crushing weight come upon me. But I did my best to hide it. I put on a smile and shoved all the bad things I felt deep inside me. Again, this is all still happening when I am very young.

I started looking to see what would make me feel good about myself. I looked at television and books and all of my hero’s. And it all boiled down to one thing; dating. Everyone that I looked up to as a kid had one thing in common. They all got the girl, whether that was by finding “true love” or by being the cool guy that dated every hot chick in school. (My main hero’s were drake from drake and josh and aang from avatar). So at the ripe old age of 11 I started dating. Or at least tried to convince girls to go out with me. But again, I was the weird, socially awkward kid who learned how to interact from watching tv and reading Percy Jackson. I tried to be funny but just came off as slightly rude and majorly annoying. And here is the worst part. I blocked out all the feelings of self doubt and hate and just shoved them deep inside me. To stew and fester and remain unresolved.

I also repressed a lot of my childhood memories because of how much I hated myself. Any failed social interaction or attempt to ask a pretty girl out immediately for locked up in some dark corner of my brain. So a lot of this is “revisionist history” because I can only go off what other people tell me and what bits I remember.

So I kept dating. And dating. And wishing someone would pour their self into me and make me feel like I was valid. Until I got to one girl. One girl who I absolutely fell head over heels for. And that was a girl named Mikalyn. Mikalyn was sweet and beautiful and above all caring. She cared about everyone she came across. I tried for a solid year and a half to get her attention to no avail. And so I was crushed by the weight of my self hate and blamed my body image and lack of social skills. And so I did what I do best. I shoved down all of my feelings and looked for the next girl. Since I still wasn’t over Mikalyn, I went for her best friend, Rachael. And I had improved on my outward facade that Racheal actually agreed to date me. It was actually in the middle of dating Racheal that I fell for another girl. And I fell hard. Borderline stalker and definitely unhealthy. That girl was Brynnan, and we will be talking about her a lot more.

At this point I’m in the eighth grade and still have almost crippling feelings of self hate that I am barely suppressing. But along the way, I have found three safe havens from all of these feelings. And those safe havens are martial arts, music, and writing. And while they all made me feel better about myself, they also brought with them huge challenges and repercussions. Martial arts was and is amazing because of the pure level of dedication and heart I put into it. It was physical and helped me with my body issues. It let me beat out some of my aggression and intense feelings I had been holding inside me. It fuels my competitive spirit. Music was amazing because it allowed me to pour my feelings into notes. It let me be good at a skill. It was meditative and let my flex my creativity. Writing let me be my true self and actually feel my feelings.

But martial arts caused me to work myself to exhaustion. Music made me wish I was cooler than I was. Writing made me realize how broken I was inside.

Because I was now aware that I was messed up and was broken inside, I couldn’t deal. I tried to shove everything down again but it just came back up again. I was still chasing Brynnan. I was barely passing classes. I was failing in every aspect of my life. And so, little by little I killed my emotions. I stopped feeling. I went numb. Brynnan started dating a guy named Colton. I made a few terrible mistakes and only went to martial arts sporadically. I only played bass when I was in band class. I stopped writing.

Amidst all of this, one video changed my life. It resolved my body issues. It opened my eyes to who I truly was. Who I can’t deny I am. It made me feel alive and...happy. Truly happy for the first time in a very, very long time. And that was Jacksepticeye’s playthough of a normal lost phone. In the game, our protagonist discovers that he is not a he. That “he” is transgender. And that resonated deeper within me than words will ever describe.

And then Colton put Brynnan though He’ll and back. Brynnan’s family life imploded. Her entire world had shifted. And so she started doing one thing that would change both of our lives forever. She cut herself.

I wanted to feel again. And not just this numbness that was occasionally interrupted by searing pain and immeasurable sadness. And so I tried to get closer to Brynnan. So I cut myself. And a new world opened to me.

It was addicting. I felt like I was in control. I felt something again. And I felt like I was powerful. I couldn’t stop. Line after line was carved in my skin. I was writing again. I could feel again. Pain, but this time pain that I controlled.

My relationship with my parents worsened with every passing day. They found out about my gender dysphoria and snapped, saying it was an abomination and that I would end up nothing but a crack whore. I just desperately wanted to belong, to feel loved, and to find myself.

I eventually met a girl named Lauryn at a Speech, Drama, and Debate tournament. Even as I still had feelings for someone else, I was really just looking to be validated, to try and pour out some of the intense emotions in my heart, and to have someone by my side. Lauryn and I quickly started dating, and almost as quickly broke up. But it turns out that Lauryn had a LOT of the same problems that I did, and we quickly reconnected and got into a very serious relationship. We both loved each other, but I fell for her in a way that scared her. I claimed that I was willing to do anything for her and wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

It was during this time that two important things happened. I turned 18, and immediately moved out of my parents house into what would become affectionately known as The Rug, with three of my best friends on the planet. And it was when I decided to pursue a career in the military.

My time in The Rug was my first taste of freedom and with that came a lot of responsibility and the beginning of rock bottom. I was stressed from working 40 hour work weeks on top of trying to just barely pass my senior year of high school. I started smoking weed with my friends to help relax. Lauryn came from a family of stoners and would join me nearly every night, out under the stars. But Lauryn and I started to fight and feel as though our relationship had a deadline, as I would soon be leaving for boot camp, and she would be going off to medical school.

We broke up. She ended things. And I truly hadn’t known what it was like to be heartbroken before then. I felt utterly alone. I had pushed away a lot of my friends to spend time smoking with Lauryn. I only saw my parents once every few weeks, and our relationship was practically nonexistent. So I turned to drugs. I started smoking weed more and more, as well as cigarettes. I was showing up to work high, and put every dollar I had ever saved into the habit. But I had found a new group of people to be with, who listened to my problems and provided my support. Slowly but surely I picked myself up and put the pieces of my life back together. I was still smoking almost every day, but I had a group of friends and had a handle on my depression. (Even if it was because I was just numbing it with drugs, I didn’t want to end my life for the first time in years)

And then I left for basic training. I was going to become a Marine. I went through three months of Hell, but it gave me two things that I had longed for all my life; Self confidence and self love. And now, I no longer feel gender dysphoria. I’m confident in who I am and truly do love myself. But I can still feel the weight of all the pain I carried inside for so long. I can still feel the icy claws of depression gripping my heart. I may be a lot better now, but I am a long way from healed, and I am terrified that one day I will be right back where I was.

#overshare

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formerlyrunephoenix6769 · 5 years

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Willow Schnee Theory

from my old blog RunePhoenix6769

I managed to save this partially. h/c

One thing that I have not seen discussed much is why Willow has given up.

Why didnt she rage, why didnt she tell Jacques to knock it the fxxk off?

Its stands to reason that she is quite proficient in the use of her Hereditary semblance if she is in fact the person Winter learned from.

We have seen the Schnee women in action and damn do they have quite the temper under that frosty veneer. Why didnt Willow just swish, flick SPLAT Jacques?

But think about it.

She had been a care free young woman, beautiful, educated and from one of the wealthiest families in the whole of Remnant, she had been seen as and treated like royalty by everyone she had ever come in contact with. She had been willful, wild and happy, her Father’s pride and joy.

She had many suitors, ranging from tribal Princes in the South, beautiful boys with more money than sense, poets who had written sonnets from a far, second sons of businessmen who wished to merge with the mind to force her to relinquish control, wild Huntsmen who looked to tame the heiress not understanding that like the season of creation, she could not be so easily corralled.

They had come with their gifts, their gentle words, their reverence. They had peered at her as if she was a deer on the tundra who would startle at a moments notice. Not one had seen beyond the image crafted by the press or the idea they had created in their heads. Handled with kid gloves, some sought to wrap her in fine furs and silks like fine Mistrali porcelain.

Those suitors she took great pleasure in breaking, watching as their hearts shattered in the face of the icy wilds.

Southern Princes made soft from cavorting within their Vacuon walls, jewels and metals dripping from their pudgy hands, wishing only for a piece of Winter to gaze upon in the gilded cage they would keep her, in the lands of the never dying sun.

Beautiful boys, spoilt by their mothers, never having been beyond their societal circles thinking of themselves as her equal, a playmate of sorts who would willingly accompany them on their never ending whirlwind of dinners and balls and cater to their every churlish whim.

Second sons, hellbent on carving out a place for themselves from under their Father's and older brother's shadow, a prize to be bickered over or dragged into the fold, where she would be an adornment for their arms. A symbol of status and prestige.

Poets and Artisans who lingered on her beauty, describing her as one of the Maidens of the fairy tales of old, returned. Claims of madness that she wrought upon them with her cool indifference, they wallowed in a sickness of the heart helped by their dependence on crystal dust and their tenuous grasp upon reality.

But there is one, one who is different.

He is slightly older, dashing , charming and speaks to her in a way that no one else ever has. He is responsible, steadfast, intelligent, and understand’s her Father’s business.

He courts her, slow and steady. She learns that he is from Vale, the second son of a vineyard owner yet she finds he is unlike the other second sons of the captains of industry she is used to. He has no interest in staking his claim, has no looming father figure he must get from underneath. He is simply happy to be by her side.

As they grow closer, he shows her things she never seen. She tells him of her insecurity that she wont be able to live up to her Father's legacy. He assures her that she shall and he will be there beside her to help her, to share the burden of the company she will one day inherit.

Her Father likes him, her mother does not, her grandmother says Willow could trust a Vacuoan Faunus vagabond more than she can trust him.

Nobody who loses that consistently at cards can be trusted.

Willow brushes it off as snobbery.

He suggests marriage. Her Mother disapproves. Her Father is wary that she is rushing into things.

She assures him, this is the man she loves, she wants no other…

How can a Father deny his only child?

Nicholas Schnee reluctantly agrees and assurances are made, he agrees to give up his name of Gele and take hers on their wedding day.

The first few years are blissful, they are learning the ropes at her Father's side. Her husband is eager to start a family and is ecstatic when he learns that Willow has fallen pregnant.

It is not the easiest of pregnancies and her tender caring husband suggests she takes it easy, that there is no need for her to come to the office, he’ll deal with everything.

Don't worry or stress out the baby.

She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, keeping the W tradition, she names her Winter.. Her husband lavishes gifts on his daughter but the affection isn't quite there. He explains its the office and hes tired.

The proud grandparents dote on their grandchild, catering to Winters every whim.

As the years pass, she loses her grandmother, swiftly followed by her mother.. Her Father is over come with grief, he isn't as strong as he used to be… Her husband graciously offers to step up to the plate, carry the load, in her stead, of course, just whilst her Father gets back on his feet…

He never does..

The only light in her Father's life is Winter, who he begins to train with mock wooden swords, her delighted squeals of joy echoing through the house as he chases her through the cavernous halls. Willow trains her a bit more seriously, encouraging ballet, gymnastics, and horse riding to help with her foot work and balance.. at her husbands request

Nicholas gently chides her,

“Allow her to be a child”

Willow takes to caring for him as he ails, and he is over joyed when he hears shes expecting a second child.

Whilst her movement is limited, she begins to teach Winter the fundamentals of glyph usage and explains the Schnee semblance

She is so grateful to her husband, for being such a good man, understanding that her Father needs her, for taking care of the business.

Everyone is over joyed at the arrival of Weiss, a middle name belonging to her late mother. She is small and frail but alert. This time, Jacques is much more receptive and affectionate with the new arrival.

And business is booming. Willow hears silly rumours on the social circuit but dismisses them as idle gossip among elitist assholes. The upper echelons of society had never quite accepted him as one of their own. Jealousy at his success when other company’s were flailing.

Her Father’s mind begins to deteriorate until he is the shadow of a man.

When he passes, Willow is at a loss…..

She begins to notice small differences. Her husband's long hours at the office, he's cold, distant.. distracted. He rarely sees his daughters, he loses his temper easily..

When Winter loses her first fencing bout at the tender age of 10, he snaps, Winter cries..

Jacques apologies and claims its stress, that the pressure of holding up the business after the passing of the great Nicholas Schnee is taking it's toll.

He continues to favour little Weiss over her sister, instead he begins pushing Winter in all her training and academics.

Willow confronts him…

He says he wants what is best for her… That maybe it is Willow who isnt good enough to train her.. He hires Winter the best sword master in the land and demands progress reports.

What has happened to the man she loved?

His cruel words, what has she done wrong?

Maybe another baby might bring them closer?

When Whitley is born, Jacques is ecstatic…. A son!

A son he spoils and lavishes with praise.

For a time they return to their blissful days, but it is far too short before his cold indifference returns.

He almost immediately forgets how he favoured Weiss, choosing instead to treat her like her older sister, constantly applying pressure. Pushing her to her limits with classes and recitals, organizing concerts.

She is a prodigy and must reach her full potential.

Willow can see the seething sibling rivalry brewing, vying for his attention, the jealousy. The competitiveness between the girls. Which her husband encourages, claiming it is healthy for them.

They are Schnee’s after all with an image an to up hold.

They should be the best at everything they do.

The rumours about the company become too dark to ignore, the collapsed mines, the trapped Faunus.. The threat of the White Fang..

Suddenly, Willow's home becomes her prison.. Security ramped up… She always had security but not like this, Board Members go missing.. Family and friends murdered.

Jacques treats her with barely concealed contempt, belittling every thing she attempts to do in the capacity of the SDC.

She decides something needs to be done.. She sweeps into the head quarters.. She goes through the files… She is disgusted..

Who is this man and what has he done with her husband?

She brings it up at the dinner table, she wants the company to reverse its policies.

He laughs at her.

“Willow, “I am the head of the SDC.”

He informs her that she is powerless, only a figure head as she no longer holds any sway over the remaining board members … He has taken strides to ensure that the company is under his control.. Sure she can leave with her money but the company is essentially his.

She threatens to oppose him, he threatens the children's future and thinly veiled, their very lives.

She asks him… “ Did you ever love me?”

He looks at her with a stare as cold as an Atleasian winter..

“No. I only married you for the company”

In that moment she realises that she has been played.. the longest con.. Her mother and grand mother were right…

It all begins to dawn on her..

Willow no longer has anyone to turn to… Any board member she was close to has conveniently disappeared or died.

she meant nothing…. It was all an elaborate charade.

She was a means to an end.

He is a repulsive monster!!

And now her children’s futures are at stake..

Her children… HIS children..

Winter looks stricken. Weiss bottom lip is trembling..

The candles on her birthday cake flicker and die

Willow has never noticed how much of him is in them…

The set to Winter’s shoulders. The way Weiss scowls at a particularly difficult problem….

And Whitley……. So much like his Father..

#willow schnee #formerlyrunephoenix6769 hc #runephoenix6769 head canon #rwby #winter schnee #weiss schnee #jacques schnee #sdc #schnee dust company #willow schnee hc

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jojosthetic-boogaloo · 5 years

Note

WOOP-WOOP (1/2)! Can I ask for a matchup from part 5? I am a straight girl, 5'1, with brown wavy hair and eyes. I like to listen to old music from 60-80s but all eras are welcome. I like to draw manga, watch anime, play video games, and read books. I am a sensitive person and want to feel helpful to others. Academic-wise I am confident in my abilities. When I get closer to you, I'll sometimes flaunt my skills because you're my friend. I can get sarcastic and blunt when I'm close to someone.

Heyo dear! Mun Gremlin and I came to the conclusion that you were a tough one to match! But after all, we found the answer to our prayers, and oh, am I jealous of it’s long, silky blonde hair…

Tiziano!

You met by chance on the street! You were walking by when you noticed a wonderful melody coming from a rather ragged looking man sitting on the side of the street on some wet cardboard. With a pang of guilt and your nurturing instincts playing the part, you approached the man, kneeling down before the humble hat he had in front of him and leaving in it your charity. “You sound wonderful, sir.”

What’s your surprise when a most handsome man kneels down next to you and does much the same, turning to face you and give you the most charismatic smile you’d seen. “Yes he does, good old Marco is here every Wednesday to delight us all.” He commented, and you noticed how the man nod n silence as he quietly played some tune to himself.

Extending a hand towards you to help you get back up, and accepting the gesture, you both stood back on your feet and, after having this mistery man wave and wink at the gentle musician, he guided you to walk along with his hand. “Go forth signorina, there isn’t much more to see around this parts.”

You stood in the same spot, looking at this beautiful man and gathered your thoughts to promptly give him a maybe overenthusiastic nod before turning on your heel and making your way back home as previously planned.

He chuckled, turning to the man with the guitar and changing his smile into a slight displeased pout. “You didn’t steal anything from her, did you now, Marco?” The man humbly shook his head, looking Tiziano in the eye. “That missy was kind enough to appreciate my music, Tiz, she didn’t just pity me, I wouldn’t take anything from her, promise.”

Tiziano scowled at the man, already knowing his antics and kicking him to the side not so gently to confirm that he, in fact, had a bracelet under his ass. Most likely yours, he thought. With a groan, he grabbed the piece of jewelry and gave the musician a last displeased look. The man sat back on his behind in a fit of chuckles. “What can I say, takes a liar to know one.” With a scoff, Tiziano gripped tightly the stolen item in his hand.

“One of this days, you’re going to take something from someone you shouldn’t have, and you’ll regret it, Marco.” Turning on his heel, Tiziano left his own way, walking back to his own house. He’d take care of the whole ordeal of finding you and returning the bracelet to you later. Now, he had to take care of other matters.

On the following Wednesday, you decided to come back to the same alley, seeing the man with the guitar quietly playing his melodies one more time, as if he’d never really moved, as if nothing really had happened in the time you were absent.

When you were two steps away from the man, you felt a slender but strong hand grip your upper arm and tug you with force into an uncomfortably narrow branching alley, pressing you tightly against the stranger’s figure. The person holding you to them and pressing you to be silent by the hand pressed over your mouth seemed to be a man, which you could barely make out by the way your forehead pressed against his toned chest.

Upon looking up, you noticed that this face was familiar, alarmingly and wonderfully so. You almost felt guilty for feeling excited upon discovering it was him, but quickly, common sense kicked in and all your alarms went off. What was going on? Why couldn’t you talk? Why was he holding you like this in this uncomfortable position? You couldn’t do anything but comply and stay quiet, looking to the side into the street you previously were walking on.

The taller man looked down at your figure, stoically and firmly staring into the street, keeping your composure. The hand he had on your back so you wouldn’t hurt yourself on the rough old brick wall behind you tightened against him for a brief second as a way to comfort your inner distress. He greatly admired your poise, had to give credit where it was due.

You felt him press you to him, but before you could react in any way, you heard voices on the street, they were screaming at the man you knew as Marco surely, for there was no one else on the street. “This is the last time you steal from the capo’s kid, filthy scumbag!” A gunshot, you heard a gunshot and a group of steady steps that, painfully slowly, faded away.

Your heartbeat boomed loudly in your ears, you felt weak on your knees. You didn’t want to be there, but at the same time, the secure hold on your form from the man made you feel better, your breathing slowly calmed down again. Upon sighing long and tiredly, the male chuckled, letting go of you and squeezing out of the narrow alley, helping you out with a guiding hand on yours in case your legs failed you due to the recent shock.

He gave you a genuine smile, leaning down to kiss your hand and performing a much too formal bow for you, making you tense your lips in disbelief and bewildered amusement. “The name’s Tiziano, it’s a pleasure to… well, meet again, miss.” He spoke, his voice lower than you’d expected and as smooth as you’d vaguely remembered from last day.

With a small, lopsided smile on your face, you took your hand back, jokingly bowing back at Tiziano and granting him the generous gift of a genuine smile and a light chuckle. “Well, mine’s Y/N, the pleasure is mine, Tiziano.” You finished, raising an eyebrow at how his body seemed to move to the side when your eyes wandered off behind him so you wouldn’t have to stare straight at him. His broad shoulders blocked your view and now you were curious as to why he did such a childish thing. He cleared his throat, guiding with his hand you turn around and go back from where you’d come from. “Miss, I’d rather you avoid looking at an unpleasant scene, you’ve undergone enough stress today.”

You understood, he was blocking your view from the corpse that was surely still laying there, the man with the guitar who was no longer there to play his melodies. After a long, deep breath in, you let your gaze travel back to his icy blue eyes once more. He had such a pretty complexion, he almost looked ethereal when you gave it some thought. Snapping back from your thoughts by the small smirk forming on the observed’s face, you cleared your throat, turning on your heel and walking back from where you came from.

Not expecting how he seemed to quietly adjust his pace with yours, walking by your side. You looked him up and down, what was it now? You started to feel a sense of nervousness form on the pit of your stomach, when he spoke again, visibly a bit embarrassed he’d just acted without explaining himself, making the situation a bit awkward. “My bad, I just thought it was only natural I’d take you for a drink, after all that just happened, maybe an infusion to calm yourself? You do look a bit pale, Y/N.”

Raising your fingers to graze your cheek after his comment on your appearance, you gave it some thought. It wouldn’t be so bad to calm yourself after practically indirectly witnessing murder. You looked at him once more, giving him a nod with a reluctant half smile. “Oh! My treat, signorina.” You rolled your eyes. You weren’t about to start a fight over being perfectly capable of fending for yourself, so you just silently accepted his offer, which earned a satisfied “hm” from him, who seemed rather contempt.

When you’d gotten to a quiet, small cafe in a zone you knew well enough, he sat across from you, his manners almost impeccable; from the way he sat to the way he stirred his coffee, it all seemed thoroughly practiced. How did someone manage to look so graceful with such small things? After hearing his spoon click against the ceramic plate under his cup, you snapped your gaze back up at his, who seemed to be rather focused on you.

“I’d drink that before it gets cold, miss.” He snarkily remarked, a small smug smile on his face as he rose his own cup to his lips. You huffed, annoyed at his, even if obviously playful, impertinence. You rose the cup to your lips and gave it a good long sip, enjoying the warm sensation slide down your throat. It really did feel better to drink this after all, as much as you hated giving the credit to him. Why were you so snappy and absentminded today? You weren’t quite sure, probably due to the weird events piling up in the day, yeah, that had to be it.

After lowering your cup once more, you noticed Tiziano fidget in his seat, apparently searching for something in his pockets. After he found it, with a quite remarkably adorable “oh” and a smile crossing his face, he slid a handkerchief across the table towards you, patting it carefully and retiring his hand once more. “I think this belongs to you, Marco took it last time.”

“Oh?” You rose your eyebrow in wonder, how did he take anything from you without you even noticing anything weird? Much to your surprise, after undoing the folds of the delicate piece of cloth and checking its insides, you couldn’t help but let out a tiny gasp. “My bracelet!” You were still confused, still, immediately took it in your hands and gently rubbed it with the tip of your thumb. This was a precious gift, you’d been so sad if it got lost or stolen. You heard Tiziano let out an awkward cough and look away, apparently questioning his actions as to what business could he have keeping and returning a stolen bracelet from a girl he didn’t have any particular business with.

When you were about to speak, finding his conflicted expression endearing and extending your hand towards him, he seemed to come back from his thoughts, looking at your hand and almost immediately taking it in between his. You blushed, and he seemed to nervously find an answer to that action through a small smile and a nervous chuckle, rubbing his thumb for the slightest fraction of a second on your wrist and seemingly coming up with an excuse. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to help you hook it back on, dolcezza.”

After giving him a small nod as approval and biting your lip, almost incredulous this situation was real, Tiziano gave you a genuine smile before focusing on your bracelet once more, hooking it on and, much to your surprise, lifting your wrist to his face and placing a gentle kiss on it. “There, as beautiful as ever.” You felt your brain give up for a second, quickly recovering with an awkward laugh and placing both your hands on your lap. Upon this reaction, he laughed, amused at how lost you looked.

He downed the rest of his coffee and looked at his wrist, checking the time on his watch and coughing in surprise. He looked frantic now, and looked back at you with an apologetic expression. You knew pretty quick that he must have been late somewhere and had just realized. With an amused giggle, you signaled him to go off, and he took that with a chuckle and a nod. He rose from his seat, but before he could leave, he turned back around and slid you a tiny card, a business card.

“If there’s any trouble, or any emergency, do contact me, principessa.” With that and a quick stop by the bar to leave your beverages paid for, he quickly fled the cafe, leaving you wondering where he left, how fancy his business card was, and how wonderful his touch felt on your skin, even if briefly.

Back in your house, you couldn’t stop thinking about today’s events, in the end, spending most the night tossing and turning in bed, unable to take out of your mind Tiziano’s handsome features and his silky sweet voice, his gentleness, his whole presence. And then, you remembered; you had a way to contact him. You jumped up from bed, digging through your bag and finding what you looked for. Even though pretty old fashioned and much too professional, the only thing that read in that card was an email.

You opened the mail app on your phone, ancient times since you last used it to actually chat with anyone, and shot him a message. You just said hi, but oh, did you want to say way more. But, it would be weird, would it not? To say “Hey, remember me? I’m the cafe girl from today, can’t sleep thinking about being in your arms and your pretty face haha” would be rather blunt, and even though you were in fact, blunt; it didn’t seem appropriate right now. This was surely a silly crush that you’d forget by the end of the week.

Thinking about that, and closing your eyes to reminisce on his soft touch again, on his reserved yet charismatic smiles, you felt yourself slowly drift into a much needed rest.

You did not expect waking up to three new mails, that brought an immediate smile to your face.

“Hello, Y/N, I hope you rest well, it is pretty late.”

“No matter, I hope I’m not being too blunt, but I’d like to meet up again sometime soon.”

“I’m hoping you fell asleep, good morning in such case, dolcezza.”

All three sent a few hours ago, since you rose at the early hour of 7am. Quickly, you replied, hoping he’d have a little bit of time to reply back.

“Sure, tell me when and where, bello.”

You went about with your day with a little extra spring in your step, you were excited, what could you do. Once back home, you didn’t expect his reply waiting for you on your computer screen.

“I’m not a big fan of crowded spaces, if it’s not much to ask, you could come to my place? I have a free spot next Saturday evening. Sounds okay?”

Next Saturday felt so far away, and you couldn’t help but sigh deeply. You’d have to wait the rest of this week, and almost the entirety of the next one to see that pretty face once more. It was a bummer, but quickly enough, you looked at it form the bright side; you’d get to see him! At his place!

Oh wait, at his place? Was it rational or safe to even accept going to a rather suspicious and newly met man’s place after just two days of interacting and some scarce mails? Your better judgement was well overshadowed by your eager heart, quickly typing away your response before getting in the shower.

“Sounds wonderful. See you next Saturday, Tiz.”

The week went by with you two exchanging nightly mails about how your day went and Tiziano sending a picture or two of things he found that thought you’d like to see. You talked about your interests and your likes and dislikes, even shared some stories and personal information! You couldn’t believe you’d grown so close in the period of a few days.

Saturday came by, and since you’d given him your address, he waited for you at your door with elegant poise, wearing casual clothes that looked extremely fine on him. When you met his eyes outside, you did expect him to smile brightly at you, but you did not expect to be lifted by your waist up into his arms and being twirled for a moment, seeing him shoot you one genuine, joyful smile in the process.

When he let you down again, your cheeks were flushed, and your heartbeat picked up again. Okay, maybe the crush would go away after today, there was still hope for your poor heart, because at this rate, if he kept doing those things, smiling at you like that and taking you into his wonderful embrace like its nothing… You were not gonna get over this feeling, not anytime soon at least.

“Shall we go? I parked right over there, bellissima.” He started, still beaming that charming smile down on you.

When you get to his house, after some flirty remarks about your appearances here and there, you help him set the table. Surprisingly enough, he made a most wonderful meal; you did not expect him to be a good cook.

After eating a most delicious dinner, exchanging some jokes here and there, some comments about your day and how you anticipated seeing the other, your plates were empty, and after the glasses of wine, you felt comfortable enough to get up and wander about in his apartment.

He looked at you and laughed quietly, seeing you calmly pace around his living with an absent yet oddly focused look on your face. “Cute.” He said, mostly to himself, and you didn’t seem to hear, for you kept wandering about.

While Tiziano cleans the table, you notice a familiar item laying against the side of the sofa. The guitar case seemed to call to you, and you couldn’t help but kneel down and open it, revealing a most wonderful instrument you were quite familiar with.

You hear Tiz approach with a happy sounding “hm!” as he kneeled in front of you. “You play it?” He started, not taking his eyes off you, a small smile lingering on his lips when he noticed you smile fondly at the instrument.

“A little bit, when I need to take my mind off things.” He gives you a lopsided smile and gently places his hand over one of yours. “Would you play something for me right now, bella?” Without thinking about it too much, you pick it up and scoot over to the side, sitting with your back on the sofa and with your legs crossed; Tiziano follows suit and sits comfortably close, looking at you with expectation.

You start playing a very familiar soft tune, earning a cute “Oh!” from Tiziano, who now sat holding one leg to his chest and regaling you with a most tender smile.

“Wise men say… only fools rush in…”

“Elvis?” He noted, amused at your song of choice. You giggle, resuming your playing while giving him an affirming nod. “I really like music from that era, it’s really neat.” He nods, agreeing with you in that matter and quietly leaning his shoulder to touch yours.

As you sing softly, you feel him lean closer, eventually leaving you to turn your face to him with a chuckle and a “What are you doi-” that gets cut in your throat when you notice how his breath now clashes against yours. He rose one of his hands and cupped your cheek tenderly, leaning in slowly to press his forehead against yours. Loosening your grip on the guitar, you let a sharp breath in when you felt his warm, soft lips press gently against yours. You kissed him back, only to feel him press back with a small smile on his lips. It was an innocent, tender kiss, filled with emotion.

After breaking off the kiss, you bit your lip and looked down, feeling his hand still gently caress your cheek, nuzzling his nose into your hair and whispering into your ear. “Sono stato stregato da te, dolcezza.” (I’ve been bewitched by you, sweetness.)

You bit your lip, leaving the guitar aside and promptly sitting on his lap, leaning in to kiss him once more after replying with a playful, overjoyed tone. “May it stay that way, bello.”

When dating!

He lives for being touched by you and letting him have his hands all over you! Hugs, twirls in his arms, cuddling, holding your hand, sliding his arm over your shoulder when on the sofa, holding your hand under the table, linking his arm with yours while going for a walk… anything goes as long as it means he gets to have you physically close!

Will encourage you in all the ways and aspects he can! He’s a very very very supportive person and even more so in a relationship! It may even get a bit embarrassing sometimes, but that’s just because he loves you!!!

He finds you being so smart and dedicated a very respectable feat! He will ruffle your hair and hold you in his arms when you get sassy about it and tease you of “not letting you touch the ground until you shut up and kiss him”.

Competitive too so you’re in for banter but the type of banter that you laugh after, expect lots of tickling and playful tossing around after little fights, he’ll most likely start them by throwing you over his shoulder and slamming you (gently of course) on the sofa to slay you with the incessant ticklish touch of his fingers.

He’s 100% into whatever you do, go forth, you’ll always have a big fan! And he’ll immediately join in whatever it is you want to do! He likes to learn new songs for the guitar from you, he was pretty mediocre to begin with quite honestly.

All the kisses, he’ll steal them, give them, receive and please just…. kiss him!!! He loves kissing you to the point he can’t stop thinking about coming back from work to do it.

He’ll watch as you draw and make little scarce comments not to disturb you like “I like the eyes.” or “That outfit choice is the cutest, amore.”

When you read please tell him, he loves serving as your pillow, letting you rest against him as he reads with you over your shoulder, there is little to nothing that he loves more in the world than doing these types of things with you.

He knows how to dance, and he’ll drag you to him in your living room to dance along to any of the old bops you got laying around. Sometimes, you can’t believe you landed such a treasure for a partner… he’s got a vinyl player, it’s heaven.

He sucks at video games, big time! But that won’t stop him from playing Mario Kart with you on Friday nights and getting his butt thoroughly beat and defeated. He always says “If I lose this round, I get a kiss, for trying.” You roll your eyes, but those stupid remarks are one of the many things you love about Tiziano, and he knows it.

Tumblr has eaten all my drafted replies thrice, so that’s another reason updating takes so long, I gotta work on ONE request at a time and finish it, otherwise, when we check in the next morning, it won’t be there (´;ω;｀)

As a side note! Mun Gremlin is an incompetent human being that I bully on the regular and, he’d like to apologize for accidentally reblogging stuff last night into this blog instead of his main. You nasty Gremlin, learn how to use a computer smh. (I love him guys don’t worry it’s a joke, but yeah, he has a hard time with Tumblr sometimes so if you see random reblogs sometimes that get deleted on the blog a bit after, you know who the culprit is （；¬＿¬) )

#Anonymous #tiziano #mun gremlin #mun dia #moodboard matchup #matchup #matchup request #jojosthetic-boogaloo #jjba

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trustyourgutblog · 5 years

Text

When Shit Got Real - My Journey to Digestive Disease Diagnoses

Greetings everyone! C Here :]

One of the reasons that S and I decided to create this blog is that we both struggle with chronic health conditions. I thought a good place to start would be talking about my journey of how I got diagnosed. In May of 2016, I graduated from my clinical social work master’s program. The previous 2 years had been among some of the most stress-inducing years of my life and I have a feeling that the life stressors, along with genetic predispositions, were significant catalysts to my diagnoses.

I had grown up in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (s/o to all da Yoopers reading this) and in order to pursue my dreams of attending graduate school to become a mental health provider, I had to move away from my family, friends, and the place that I had always called home.

*Enter huge stress catalyst number 1*

A few weeks before I was scheduled to leave for graduate school, I started to experience some major anxiety about moving so far away from my family and friends and attending school (thanks to the semester that I had taken off). I wasn’t experiencing full blown panic attacks, but my episodes of racing thoughts, rapid heart rate, and shortness of breath were enough to make me ask my primary care provider for anxiety medication. Thank the universe that she was a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine (DO) and encouraged me to try more holistic ways to manage my anxiety such as going for walks, staying active, and seeking out help from natural supports.

Fast forward to finding an apartment, completing the 400 mile move, and entering graduate school. The first few weeks were pretty difficult, but eventually I made friends and began to somewhat relax. The academic and scheduling demands of grad school were constant and I was experiencing a baseline level of stress at all times (juggling classes, homework, reading, my internship, and a side job). Not to mention, I also pushed myself out of my comfort zone to study abroad in Europe for 2 weeks during the summer between my first and second year. Don’t get me wrong, I was having a blast and the busyness of my new life was exhilarating. But, I was putting my body under months and months of ongoing stress without pause.

Grad school seemed to fly by and before I knew it, it was May of 2016 and I graduated with a 4.0. You guessed it – I’m Type A and a self-proclaimed perfectionist (I’m including my GPA here to illustrate the level of chronic stress that I was experiencing – if you’re a control freak like me, you know this type of stress). A few weeks after graduation, I continued to work my student assistant job as I looked for a job in social work. I was also on the hunt for a rural location so that I could get more assistance with my student loans. Seven applications later and I had gotten a call back from a Community Mental Health agency requesting to schedule an interview.

A few days after the interview, I received a phone call stating that I had landed the job! Praise be! I was so excited that thinking about the stress of finding a new place to live and the 2- hour commute hadn’t even occurred to me. It turns out that they were short-staffed (big surprise in social work, I know) and wanted me to start right away. So, I gave a 2 week notice at my other job and began looking for a place to live. I started working a few days a week at my new job (since commuting 2 hours a day, 5 days a week is enough to make anyone go mad), and was able to able to find a place that was halfway in between my boyfriend’s job and mine. About a week after my boyfriend and I had signed the lease, he was given another work assignment and he would no longer be working at this site – he was now going to be assigned a traveling job where he would have to visit sites all over the country. So here I was. Stuck in a 1-year lease in a town with no friends or family and facing the cold, hard reality of a long distance relationship. Well, shit. I was now going to be separated from my best friend who I had lived with since I was 17 years old.

*Cue mental breakdown*

I tried to stay positive and began my new job with my typical enthusiastic, bright personality. However, your first job as a social worker, fresh out of graduate school, is anything but bright. Don’t get me wrong! I gained some invaluable experience and met the most phenomenal people. But, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it was confusing, stressful, and straight up terrifying.

*Enter gut health spiral*

A few weeks into my job, I started noticing some changes in my digestion. If you feel uncomfortable with females talking about their bowel movements, then you may want to stop reading here. Seriously - there’s gonna be a lot of poop talk. As a kid, I’ve always been a 3,4,5 times a day pooper (where’s the poop emoji on this thing?!). My bowel movements always seemed “healthy” and I never had any trouble going. So, it was very strange to me that I was starting to experience constipation.

Huh, that’s odd, I thought.

Too busy to think much of it, I “just kept swimming” with my fast-paced life. After a few weeks of on and off constipation, I started noticing that I had blood in my stools.

Woah. That’s not right.

My mind immediately thought of my older sister. She had been diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease within the last 2 years. My first cousin had also recently been diagnosed with Crohn’s after a major hospitalization and the removal of some of her colon. Naturally, I began to panic. I immediately thought I must have it too and texted my sister. She texted back a few minutes

later –

“You need to go get a colonoscopy.”

So, I went about finding a primary care doctor as I had barely been moved to the area for a month and hadn’t been established with anyone yet. The provider I found was nice enough, but she totally dismissed my concerns as some mild constipation and potential hemorrhoids. I requested that she refer me to a gastroenterologist for a colonoscopy and instead she sent me to a colorectal surgeon.

*eye roll*

Looking back, I wish I would have advocated further for myself. This provider was clearly dismissing my concerns and referring me to a surgeon would get me off of her back. She expected him to examine me and find that nothing was wrong. No, I’m not making a judgment. The next time she saw me I had already been diagnosed and she was genuinely surprised. I should have trusted my gut (see what I did there ;]) and pushed for a colonoscopy right away.

At this next appointment, the provider (who, mind you, was a dude) performed a Sigmoidoscopy. This means that he put a long tube with a camera attached to it up my butt (WHILE I WAS AWAKE) and promptly told me that he was seeing inflammation and I needed a colonoscopy.

NO FUCKING SHIT.

So, after spending an uncomfortable $40 at this appointment, he referred me to a gastroenterologist and said that there’s a potential that I have Ulcerative Colitis. Phew. Anything was better than a Crohn’s diagnosis. Since I had that appointment with the surgeon, I was able to skip right to a colonoscopy without a GI consult prior. I had to call my boyfriend (who was currently across the country in Utah) and ask if he could fly home for a few days to drive me to and from the appointment. Being the supportive angel that he is, he agreed to come home and a few weeks later I had my first colonoscopy.

My new GI doc - a pretty, blonde, and particularly cold woman, explained that she couldn’t figure out if I had Crohn’s or not. Basically, the inflammation in my colon that was causing the bleeding and constipation was so far up in my tract that they needed to try an Esophagogastroduodenoscopy (EGD). Aka go in the other way. She prescribed a mild steroid to help control the inflammation while they tried to figure out exactly what was going on. Thankfully, my boyfriend was home for a week, so I was able to schedule the EGD while he was home. Another round of prep (aka pooping my brains out), another 2 days off of work, and a procedure later and they STILL couldn’t definitively diagnose me with Crohn’s.

So, another procedure was recommended.

“We’ll need to complete a Capsule Endoscopy.”

Aka swallow a giant horse pill that is actually a camera and it takes pictures of your insides while it moves through your digestive tract. Am I actually in an episode of the Magic School Bus? Another day of prep and another day taken off of work to walk around with a giant fanny pack (and not the cute kind) of wires taking pictures of my insides.

Finally, here I sit in an exam room at my new GI’s office - four months later. Anxiously waiting at my GI doctor’s office for her to come in and inform me of the results of the plethora of testing that I had undergone. It had been 6 months since I first noticed the blood in my stool. Six months of labs, procedures, and office visits. If there was ever a drum roll moment, this was it.

My GI doc walked in, greeted me, and said, “Well, it looks like you have Crohn’s.” My heart stopped and ironically, my stomach dropped. Watching my sister endure the complicated symptoms of her Crohn’s over the last 2 years did not give me a hopeful look into my future. She had told me horror stories of having to poop in the woods while on a run because she just couldn’t hold it any longer, extreme fatigue that caused her to feel like she needs 12+ hours of sleep per night, and stomach cramping that was so unbearable it caused her to double over.

I wanted to cry, but I didn’t (see earlier reference to my doctor being cold AF). We discussed treatment options, she prescribed medications, and told me to “eat bland foods like bread, grilled cheese, and rice,” and sent me on my way. I got into my car after the appointment, called my boyfriend, and immediately broke down. The way I saw it, a Crohn’s diagnosis was a “see you later” to my former, happier existence. I couldn’t believe that this was my reality. My next call was to my sister, who I appreciate beyond belief. Because she knew the heartache that I was experiencing at that exact moment.

Okay, pity party over – flash to present day. I’ve now been living with Crohn’s, Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS), and Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD) for 3 years. Surprisingly, I am doing pretty well. My health isn’t perfect, but I’ve come a long way from 2016. If I’ve kept you entertained this far, I’d like to share more of my journey on how I’ve made my way to this healthier place in my next blog post.

As much as I felt like my diagnoses were a death sentence – I can now see that they were just a beginning to a new chapter in my life. This new chapter includes becoming more aware, mindful, and attuned to my body. In my upcoming blog posts, I’ll share how I have been able to improve my self-care, nutrition, and lifestyle in an effort to lead a more fulfilling, aligned life.

#crohn's problems #crohn's #crohn's disease #ibd #diagnostic #chronic disease #procedures #gi #ibs #inflammatory bowel disease

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dulwichdiverter · 5 years

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Queen of the south

Words Luke G Williams; Photo Lima Charlie

In the words of its publisher, Candice Carty-Williams’ debut novel Queenie is “a darkly comic and bitingly subversive take on life, love, race and family”.

Centred on the trials and tribulations of protagonist Queenie Jenkins, the novel has already attracted admiring comments from writers Jojo Moyes and Diana Evans, as well as serious industry buzz.

As the publication date of 11 April approaches, Candice, in conversation with the Dulwich Diverter, admits that she is finding her new-found status as south London’s latest literary sensation “quite surreal”.

“I don’t take it lightly,” the 29-year-old says. “All the buzz around the book has been amazing but now I’m really looking forward to people reading the story and understanding what it’s about and what I’m trying to say.

“I really want people to find something in the book and in Queenie’s character. I want to give the literature landscape a heroine who is flawed, reckless and different.”

Candice admits that the process of “being taken on by an agent to being signed is in my memory but it’s sort of got a really weird haze to it! The whole thing is a blur!”

Having submitted her first draft of Queenie to influential agent Jo Unwin, Candice eventually decided to sign with Orion, who are publishing the book through their imprint Trapeze.

“When I finally made a decision I just sat sobbing in Jo’s office,” Candice reveals. “It was an amazing feeling but also quite scary, because I knew I was putting my work out there now!”

Throughout our conversation Candice’s charisma and occasionally self-deprecating wit prove charming, but above all else it is her passionate desire to broaden representation within the publishing industry that dazzles.

Refreshingly, this is not an author against whom accusations of egotism or pretension could be levelled.

“I didn’t write Queenie for any sort of glory!’ she laughs. “If I see a problem that needs fixing I try and fix it and Queenie stems from the idea of representation.

“A central character like this hasn’t existed before in a ‘big event’ publication like this has been set up to be.We’ve had Bridget Jones types and other ‘mainstream’ female characters, but growing up I never had a character like that for myself.

“When you’ve grown up not really seeing yourself represented you don’t view yourself as important. For me it was always a case of having to be grateful when I saw a black woman represented as a ‘sassy best friend’ or an exotic sexual conquest.

“That was a problem because I always saw myself as a secondary person. So I thought I’m going to write something about a young woman who people can see themselves in, and she is going to be black because I’m black and I like to write about what I know.

“It’s important to show that black women are like everyone else but also different because we see things through a different lens.”

As a youngster Croydon-born Candice – a Herne Hill resident now for almost a year - admits she lacked confidence in her abilities and creativity – a revelation that makes her current success all the more remarkable and laudable.

“Growing up I never felt I could write,” she explains. “The secondary school I went to was good but I was in all the lower sets, I didn’t really have much in the way of academic or career aspirations. Writing wasn’t something I thought I could do.

“Even now I sometimes think: is this all a joke? Writing is something I came to really late and I guess I’m still finding my confidence because I never thought it was an attainable career.”

When I remark to Candice that she seems full of confidence and self-assurance she laughs. “It’s all a ruse! I’m an introvert mainly. Talking to people and public speaking I find quite hard, but you just have to get on with it I guess.”

Candice’s route into publishing was somewhat circuitous, and speaks volumes for her determination.

After studying for a degree in Media Studies at the University of Sussex (“I wasn’t allowed to study English – I was always told I wasn’t clever enough”) her eyes were gradually opened to the mechanics of the publishing industry by university friends.

“I hadn’t realised literature was a viable career,” she explains. “I remember looking at spines of books and seeing the names of the publisher or imprints and not knowing what they were.”

Post-university a period of anxiety was salved by a book that remains one of Candice’s favourites – Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle.

“I’d left university and was no longer part of an institution that told me where to go, what to do and so on. I was like; what am I doing now? I was so acutely anxious that whole time and I couldn’t read anything because I just couldn’t focus.

“I Capture the Castle was the first book I was able to read in a long time. It completely took me out of myself and I was so grateful. South London is a million miles away from the setting in that book which is a crumbling castle atop a hill in the middle of nowhere!

“I’ve read a lot since then but that book will always have a place in my heart and I have a giant castle tattooed on my leg because of that book.”

Realising that she wanted to crack the publishing industry Candice worked her way up through a series of internships.

“Internships are always the answer, unless you have family or friends that work in books,” she says.“My first one was at Melville House when I was 23.

“After that I did a two-week internship at 4th Estate, and then got a job as a temporary editorial assistant at Vintage. I did that for six weeks and then 4th estate asked me to come back and be a marketing assistant. Marketing really felt like where my heart was at that time, it allowed me to be creative.

“I did that for two-and-a-half years and it was great and then I came back to Vintage but in a different capacity.”

Now senior marketing executive at Vintage, Candice stresses that she focuses her attention on work by “under-represented authors”. Indeed, while at 4th Estate, Candice was responsible for the creation - in 2016 - of the Guardian and 4th Estate BAME Short Story Prize, a highly successful initiative that is still going strong.

“I’d been in publishing for less than a year and realised the middle ground to getting your book published was having an agent,” Candice says as she explains the genesis of the initiative.

“I knew that there were loads of people who were really underrepresented in publishing – who didn’t know what agents were or didn’t have access to agents or the publishing industry.

“So I asked my boss if we could think abut a short story prize so we could see what was out there. I thought if we couldn’t immediately publish some of these writers maybe we could help them get agents.

“I went away and I drew up a proposal, which I had to pitch to the division and the head of Harper Collins, which was terrifying.

“I think it was the first industry inclusion initiative and it was done on a budget of £48 to create a website so we could collect entries. I did all the sifting, which was about 300 stories.

“It was a great success. One of the stories I read was called Black Flag by Guy Gunaratne, who was just long-listed for the Booker Prize. He thanked me in the back of his novel In Our Mad and Furious City. It is amazing the impact that the prize hashad. It’s sad that it has to exist but good that it does, if you see what I mean.”

Having lived in a variety of south London locales, from Lewisham to Brixton, Streatham, Norbury and now Herne Hill, Candice – somewhat unsurprisingly – relishes the range of local bookshops at her disposal in nearby Dulwich.

“Dulwich has some amazing bookshops,” she enthuses. “I love Dulwich Books, Village Books and Rye Books on Northcross Road.”

Another source of local pleasure for the up and coming author is somewhat more left-field.

“If there’s one thing I want to say and get into this interview somewhere it’s that I love tower blocks,” she says. “I find them very romantic. There are two tower blocks in Herne Hill that I really love.”

Candice pauses, before adding with a chuckle. “I don’t know how you’re going to work that into the article, but I think it’s important for people to know!”

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loveraids · 6 years

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advice for incoming freshmen

hey guys! here’s a list of some tips i made for incoming freshmen. i thought i’d share some advice/knowledge i’ve accumulated over the years too. everything’s under the cut. if you have any questions/concerns, feel free to message me! ☀️ (tw: long post)

1. one of the biggest fears many people have entering high school is not making friends. however, there are MANY opportunities where you can make friends! besides being friendly with who you sit with in class, try joining a sport, club, extra curricular, etc. i’m not saying making friends is the easiest thing in the world- i still struggle with it today. but don’t put yourself down if you’re not immediately friends with everyone in the school in the first week- it’ll take some time to develop. remember that everyone else is just as scared as you are, and they aren’t gonna come out of their shells until you do as well.

2. depending on your school, they may start throwing college shit at u on day one (although unlikely). no matter what, don’t stress right now!! the college process really doesn’t begin until the weeks leading up to the summer of junior year. you have time!! it’s ok to not know what you want to do. college has an “undecided” major for a reason.

3. V O L U N T E E R. i cannot stress this enough. it has soso many benefits and freshman year will most likely be the most time-free year you have. find a position at your local zoo, library, camp, hospital, etc. it’s a great resume booster and can aid you in the college application process (additionally, if you have an honors society that requires volunteer hours, you’ll need them anyways). also, you get to help people !

4. freshman year is going to teach you what real high school work is. you may struggle, and it’s ok! i was one of the “bright” kids that had their grades drop once i entered high school, and yeah, it did a lot to my self esteem. but throughout the years i picked myself up- i embraced help from my peers/teachers, i figured out what method of studying works best (pro tip: studying for math? look over the basic rules and do thousands of practice problems. science that isn’t math based? quizlet and khan academy. history? quizlet.), i learned that it’s OK to get a grade under a 90/A-. it’s going to seem tough at first, but just remember that you’re adjusting to a completely new environment and work ethic. you will get through it!! please shoot me an ask if you ever need help i’ll always answer. (edit: also do ur homework!!! it could be the difference between a B+ and an A-.)

5. imagine the crustiest person in your grade right now. now imagine them trying to hit on a kid that’s four years younger than you. gross, right? that’s exactly what a senior hitting on a freshman is like!! do not do that shit!!! there is NO reason why a senior should be trying to hook up with you when they’re 17-18 and you’re 14-15. that shit is NASTY. do NOT date seniors (even juniors are sketchy).

6. high school is where you will probably encounter alcohol/drugs/sex/etc at some point. do not be pressured!! if you don’t wanna smoke or drink then don’t do it (if you’re with the type of people who pressure, you better run). ive personally never had an experience where i was pressured, and people were usually respectful, but i can’t speak the same for everyone else. wanna get fucked up and party with your friends? be careful! i’m not promoting underage drinking but lets be honest a lot of kids do it. no sense in trying to pretend like that isn’t the real world. if you’re invited to some party by someone you KNOW has a bad rep, then don’t go!! you’ll have more opportunities.

7. if you’re worried about SATs/college admissions exams, you have a year. kids in my school are kinda crazy and were studying freshman year which made NO sense to me. end of sophomore year/beginning of junior year is usually adequate (plus- the main rule with SATs/ACTs is that you should take the test NO MORE than three times- that’s three chances!! i personally did well on my SAT, so if u have any questions feel free to ask me.

8. back to the point of pressure - if you’re going to a gifted and talented program/school, you will most likely feel academic pressure. with so many bright and smart peers, your standards will end up being much higher than the general population. i’m speaking from experience.

9. student government is usually a popularity contest. if you don’t win, don’t beat yourself up. if you do, congrats!

10. take pictures! save holiday cards! make memories!! i sincerely regret not taking photos (with me in them!!) during my freshman and sophomore years. there are a lot of great memories that i didn’t record because i was too embarrassed to get in front of a camera. i’ve learned that i’d rather cringe at a photo i look bad in in the privacy of my own phone, rather than not have a picture at all.

11. start developing good studying habits right away. what motivated me was getting cute/colorful pens, highlighters, erasers, post-its, etc., and making my notes look really pretty. i have my own personal post-it collection now. if you find ways to make studying even remotely fun/interesting, it will be extremely beneficial in the long run. i remember the summer before my junior year, i was excited to go back literally because i wanted to use my new pens.

12. this is a future piece of advice, but i would say there’s a 99% chance that you will be friends with mostly different people by senior year. you might have a core few, or a bestie, but myself and many others know that there are people who we were best friends with freshman year that don’t say hi to us in the halls senior year.

13. listen, there are gonna be some snake ass bitches. there’s no avoiding it. just don’t pay attention to them!! they get off on thinking they’re better than you. the best way to no longer deal with someone you don’t like is to just not associate with them. i’m obviously over simplifying these situations, but its usually not that deep. if it’s to the point where it’s causing you a great amount of stress, then it may be something you need to talk to a guidance counselor about.

14. please. do. not. run. and scream. in. the. halls. who do u think u are?? it’s 8 AM i don’t want to hear your screeching voice as you run into 7 people!!!!!

15. the freshmen are usually the joke of the school. you’ll hear you guys referred to as gremlins in some way, shape, or form. just deal with it, you’ll understand when you’re no longer freshmen (unless someone’s being unnecessarily mean!!).

16. make friends with your teachers!!!!!!!!! stay after class to have a little conversation with them. email them after school. bring them gifts on major holidays. IT WILL PAY OFF. letters of recommendation? done! need a teacher to sign off on something? done! minorly messed up in class? they’ll let it go bc they like you! this will also probably result in an increase in your character/participation grades.

17. make a travel pack that you keep in your bag - a few small bills, pads/tampons (for those who need), pen, pencil, bobby pins, nail file, hair elastic, gum/mints, small perfume, band-aids, charger, etc.

18. thrift books sells books for really cheap!! also, ALWAYS check other places before ordering from normal bookstores (i’m looking at u barnes & noble)- they’re most likely cheaper.

19. i’m not gonna be one of those people who is like “school is the best!! it can be great for anyone if you just try!!” bc that shit aint true. it might suck ass for some of you. just know that high school isn’t your life. some people act like your life ends after high school. we’re 14-18 years old and still have so much to learn and see. if you set up a countdown to the end of high school your first day of freshman year, so be it.

20. your teachers are people too. they’re not there for you to use and abuse. they have families, problems, LIVES. they also have 3289472 students besides yourself, and assuming they should put you above the rest will only end up in disappointment.

21. social media is not all that matters. esp in this day and age, people will definitely be using snapchat and instagram (and hey! tumblr too). but don’t think you need social media to fit in. one of the most popular girls in my school literally made her instagram just the other day. to reiterate: it’s not that deep!!

22. you’re gonna change a lot (which is ok!!). freshman year i only wore hot topic and watched supernatural & doctor who. now, i just watch cooking vids and fawn over shawn mendes. it’s ok to change!! even just though freshman year you’ll change. i know i got like. super gay

23. if you find yourself having free time (or having study hall), do your homework!!! once you get home you’ll probably get distracted/lazy. what i used to do was go to my local library after school and get all my homework done so that i wouldn’t leave my school mindset and not wanna do anything. even if you don’t get everything done, you’ll thank yourself later.

24. there’s a difference between “forming your own opinion” on someone and completely ignoring their reputation/what your friends say. i can’t tell you how many people have gotten burned by the SAME guy in my school because none of them even kept in mind the warnings they had heard about him. it’s ok to give people a chance, but remember that most people’s reputations hold some truth (but not everyone!).

25. this seems pretty obvious but like. be nice. don’t talk mad shit about people you don’t know. rumors fly FAST in high school. what’s even worse is when they’re not true. fact check your shit if you ARE gonna gossip.

26. ok last point (for now). everything is gonna be new. there’s no getting around it. you WILL feel out of place. you’ll most likely be anxious. but everything will end up ok (cheesy, i know). the first week of high school is one the scariest weeks you’ll have in high school. things need time to settle. you’ll make friends, you’ll find things you like, you’ll be happy!! enter high school with a growth mindset. it may not seem like it, but your attitude WILL impact how things turn out.

overall, you guys will be fine. good luck to all of you !! if you have any questions or need advice on a specific thing, please feel free to send me an ask!! i’m always here. love u bbies

#this is still just as long as my last one but at leats it's cleaner now #feel free to add btw!!#pls rb this lol #high school #tips #freshman #freshmen #hs #advice #incoming freshman #school #studying #studyblr #back to school #Back to school tips

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runephoenix6769 · 6 years

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Willow Schnee theory

Ok, this is something that I havent seen discussed much, if at all and I really think it needs to be addressed.

Willow Schnee.

We now know, due to the very cute Freezerburn heart to heart.. that she is a heart broken shell of a woman, who has, like her children, suffered at the hands of Jacques. Alcohol became her refuge and her daughters have suffered for it.

But lets dial that all back for a sec.

In ‘Lessons Learned’ , Winter tells Weiss,

“We Schnee’s are unique. Unlike many, our Semblance is hereditary.”

( It has been suggested by some members of the FNDM that due to Whitley’s slightly jealous over tones towards Weiss and hatred of Winter... Plus his view’s of Huntsman as barbarians. that maybe he doesn't have this ability. Leading some people to suggest that maybe the semblance only passes down the female line...... The jury is out on this.. Guess we’ll have to wait for RT to confirm.. Any way, I digress)

So if the Semblance is hereditary that means that Willow has this ability too, making her story all the more upsetting.

No doubt she learned how to use it, and no doubt she was rather skilled, Im thinking she taught her eldest daughter before the confirmation of Jacques motivations crushed her...

This revelation knocked the fight right out of her.

Why didn't she rage? Why didn't she fight? Why didn't she get angry?

We’ve met the Schnee women and jesus fxxing christ when they set their mind to something they are formidable. The Schnee women have an unbridled temper under a very frosty veneer.

Why didn't she stand for her children and tell Jacques to knock it the fuck off?

She’s had training, shes got a kick ass semblance. She could just swat him to one side, ‘swish, flick. splat!.

But think about it.

A care free young woman, Beautiful, educated, From one of the wealthiest families in the whole of Remnant, she’s royalty. Im seeing her wild and happy, her Father’s pride and joy/ She has many suitors, but one in-particular is slightly older, dashing , charming. speaks to her in a way that no one else ever has. He shows her things she never seen. He is intelligent, understands her Father’s business. The pressure of being the heir to the Schnee Dust Company is a heavy burden, a company she shall one day run, she’s slightly insecure that she wont be able to live up to her father’s legacy. but this man assures her, she shall. besides, if they get married, he will be there to help her.

Her Father likes him, her mother does not, her grandmother says Willow could trust a Vacuoan Faunus vagabond more than she can trust him. Willow brushes it off as snobbery.

He suggests marriage. Her Mother disapproves.. Her Father is wary..She assures him, this is the man she loves, she wants no other...

How can a Father deny his only child?

He reluctantly agrees.... Assurances are made, he agrees to give up his name.

The first few years are blissful, they are learning the ropes at her Fathers side. Her husband is eager to start a family... Willow falls pregnant... Her husband is so tender, caring. Suggests she takes it easy, theres no need for her to come to the office, he’ll deal with everything..

Dont worry or stress out the baby.

She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, keeping the W tradition, she names her Winter.. Her husband lavishes gifts on his daughter but the affection isnt quite there. He explains its the office and hes tired. Her grandparents dote on her.. Catering to Winters every whim..

As the years pass, she loses her mother.. Her father is over come with grief, he isnt as strong as he used to be... Her husband graciously offers to step up to the plate, carry the load... In her stead, of course... Just whilst her Father gets back on his feet...

He never does..

The only light in his life is Winter, who he begins to train , mock wooden swords... Chasing her through the cavernous halls.. Her delighted squeals of joy echoing through the house... Willow trains her a bit more seriously, encouraging ballet, gymnastics, and horse riding to help with her foot work and balance.. at her husbands request

Her Father gently chides her, “Allow her to be a child”

Willow takes to caring for him and he is over joyed when he hears shes expecting a second child.

Whilst her movement is limited, she begins to teach Winter the fundamentals of glyph usage and explains the Schnee semblance

She is so grateful to her husband, for being such a good man, understanding that her Father needs her, for taking care of the business.

Everyone is over joyed at the arrival of Weiss, a middle name belonging to your mother. She is small and frail but alert. This time, he is much more receptive, he is much more affectionate with the new arrival

And business is booming. She hears silly rumours on the social circuit but dismisses them as idle gossip among elitist assholes. The upper echelons of society had never quite accepted him as one of their own. Jealousy at his success when other company's were slipping.

Her Father’s mind begins to deteriorate until he is the shadow of a man.

When he passes, Willow is at a loss.....

She notices small differences. Her husbands long hours at the office, hes cold, distant.. distracted. He rarely sees his daughters, he loses his temper easily..

The first time winter messes up a recital, he snaps, Winter cries.. He apologies n claims its stress..

He continues to favour little Weiss over her sister, instead he begins, pushing Winter in all her training, her academics.. Willow confronts him...

He says he wants what is best for her... that maybe its her Mother who isnt good enough to train her.. He hires Winter the best sword master in the land n demands progress reports.

What has happened to the man she loved, what has she done wrong, maybe another baby might bring them closer...

When Whitley is born, her husband is ecstatic.... A son! A son he spoils and lavishes with praise..

He almost immediately forgets Weiss..

Willow can see the seething sibling rivalry brewing, vying for his attention, the jealousy. The competitiveness between the girls. Which her husband encourages, claiming it is healthy for them.

They are Schnee’s after all with an image an image to up hold.

They should be the best at everything they do.

The rumours about the company become too dark to ignore, the collapsed mines, the trapped faunus.. The threat of the White Fang..

Suddenly your home is your prison.. Security ramped up... She always had security but not like this, Board Members go missing.. Family and friends murdered.

Her husband treats you with barely concealed contempt , She asks if the marriage is over.. He sneers

She decides something needs to be done.. She sweeps into the head quarters.. She goes through the files... She is disgusted..

Who is this man and what has he done to her husband

She brings it up at the dinner table, she wants the company to reverse its policies.

He laughs at her.

Willow, “I am the head of the SDC.”

He informs her that she is only a figure head... The company is his.. Sure she can leave with her money n the schnee family homes, jet property n what ever, but the company is his.. He threatens to write the children out of company..

She asks him... “ Did you ever love me?”

He looks at her with a stare as cold as an Atleasian winter..

“No. I only married you for the company”

In that moment she realises that she has been played.. the longest con.. Her mother and grand mother were right...

It all begins to dawn on her..

Willow no longer has anyone to turn to... Any board member she was close to has conveniently disappeared or died.

she meant nothing.... It was all an elaborate charade.

She was a means to an end.

He is a repulsive monster!!

And now her children’s futures are at stake..

Her children... HIS children..

Winter looks stricken. Weiss bottom lip is trembling..

The candles on her birthday cake flicker and die

Willow has never noticed how much of him is in them... The set to Winter’s shoulders. The way Weiss scowls at a particularly difficult problem....

And Whitley....... So much like his Father..

Feel free to comment, or add to.. or share.. Or if you think I’m way off base, let me know...

Im genuinely intrigued by Willow Schnee and her kids.. The dynamic..

Im up for listening to anyone else’s theories or if anyone else has any ideas.

#weiss schnee #winter schnee #willow schnee #jaques schee #schnee dust company #rwby #team rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #ruby rose #wschnee theory #freezerburn #schneeory #rune theory

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