#I mean A Space for the Unbound is pretty nice for MOST of it but the last section made me cry a lot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scratchandplaster · 1 year

Text

Stack The Deck - PART 7

CW: reluctant Whumper (POV), aftermath of torture, non-con drugging, toxic relationship, injury, emeto mention

PART 6 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 8

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Delivered at 10:47pm. Delivered, not seen because she's too much of a coward to face the consequences of her actions.

Morris had given every last thing, what else did she want to see? For just a simple sign of life, he would do it, whatever it was. Everything she could ever want, with a little extra hidden inside. To ensure she would stay with him, permanently.

Her ex-lover woke up a while ago, staring and breathing were the only acts Morris could notice while waiting around the bathroom door.

He looked so much better cleaned up, blood washed away from his soft features. His hair gained mass again, a bit wet from the quick cat lick he gave him. The tape around his legs was cut off too, it offered no use like this and limited the basic comfort Morris tried to provide.

He had brought the mattress to this room, covered in an oversized bathing towel to hide any previous blemishes. He cleaned him up the best he could, limited by the sparse selection of his toiletry bag.

A washrag and antiseptic took care of the most egregious areas, seemingly having no effect to calm Elliot down again.

He would also have to take care of that.

Gingerly, he pulled out a bottle of pills, small and flat, rolling it across the tile with a noisy clatter. To bury the hatchet, way too late and worth nothing.

"Should have given you this beforehand," he whispered his non-apology, "but I thought of the alcohol, you know, you don't just mix meds like that..."

He was sure the most of it had exited his system by now. Elliot didn't even seem to notice the gift he was made, focused on Morris instead, like he would stuff them down his throat any second. Morris knew that wouldn't be worth the effort, not in such a way.

"If you have to throw up again, try to aim there," he pointed at the lidless toilet right next to where he was sitting, "would be a pain to clean that all again."

"I threw up?" The first words from Elliot sounded so raspy, you could grind rocks with them. Too weak to ask further, he just stared, lost in the space between them.

"Yeah, I squeezed pretty hard. The whole thing looked like a used grapefruit afterward, but I think I did a decent job fixing-"

Horrifyingly slow, Elliot seemed to remember what happened just before his involuntary nap, sluggishly raising his hand up.

Morris did do a decent job, the gauze was neatly wrapped around all fingers, leaving the thumb separate. A white mitten, it looked like. To support the lost curve that came naturally to the palm, he scrunched up a few paper towels to stuff them under the mauled flesh.

Elliot didn't seem to feel a thing, marking the whole action as a success. The damage was clearly visible, yellow-red stains soaked through the cotton already, carrying the sickly sweet aroma of infection.

"Let me see, we need to change that soon," Morris spoke softly, approaching further. He wouldn't bet on it, but Elliot could do some damage, especially when frightened.

"Go away, don't touch me!" Elliot writhed on the soft terry cloth, unbound but still immobile with exhaustion, he shifted a few inches away to meet the back wall. Realization came over him in waves: "She didn't call, did she?"

"Let me help you." Nice and careful.

"I'll bite, I swear to god!" he sobbed, clearly not believe a single word himself. If that's all he has left, I really did a number on him.

"Ell, come on-"

"I mean it. Go away!"

Too tired to take a new fight, he gave in.

"We could watch the game, the Jays are playing tonight-"

Elliot didn't listen to a single word. Inspecting his thickly wrapped hand while cradling it in the other, he looked like the last breath had left him a long time ago.

"So much..." The horror in his faced settled down, tears now flowing freely down.

"Yeah, it had to be. She likes to overdo it, you know? But look, you're not a lefty, in a few months it will be back to normal. A screw here and there, you won't even notice the difference."

Compelled to continue, even through Elliot's found-again silence, he tried to explain the answer to his endless questioning:

"She never stopped talking about you. Stockbroker, crypto startups and so on." Morris gaze shifted through the window, now far away from guilt and ichor.

"You can laugh at me for that, no hard feelings. But I believed her."

Elliot had no intent to follow that invite, his face heavy with lead-like weight throughout the muscles; he had screamed himself numb.

"What do you want now?" he followed the quiet up with, ready to turn down any new game Morris had up his sleeve. He lost a long time ago.

"You need some energy back, so I brought you something."

Casually held in his grasp, he presented Elliot with a lukewarm can of Red Bull. Automatically, Elliot took it without asking further, holding it to his lips.

Morris averted his view from the misery below, acting disinterested as Elliot finally took a few sips of the sugary liquid. They stayed together, minutes passed till he was sure Elliot wouldn't struggle against his aid.

"I need to rest, and so do you."

Weakly shaking his head no, Elliot continued to sit still on the makeshift cod with the empty can in hand. A little extra in that, too.

He felt no joy in scaring him with violence, never had. A part of Morris despised him for being the old flame, the presentable version of what he so desperately tried to be. He would do everything for her, kill for her, but was not even worth a courtesy call, a fate Elliot had to share with him now.

One and the same, after all.

Not impressed by any of Elliot's threats, he let himself slide down onto the cod, keeping his hands by himself. He was a patient man, after all. Minutes ago, he had already seen the signs of sleep tugging at his frail body, senses slowly going south. He wanted so keep him sweet and distracted, a sudden outburst of panic would only worsen the situation, so he tried to keep the act up.

"You never told me what kind of band you got going."

Elliot pressed his left hand tightly against his stomach and as far away as humanly possible from the source of his injury.

"Orchestra, not band. A whole ensemble: choir, strings, winds. We rehearsed yesterday, for the Christmas Oratorio. Bach 'n all that, y'know."

"So you're a singer, huh?"

Slipping away again, so gentle this time, the drug guided him to let go of the tension in his muscles. Not even daring to notice, Elliot's head tipped to the side, safe and secure against Morris' shoulder. Only a slight shake of his head still held him in the exchange of amenities.

"P-pianist."

--------

He didn't think of Amber when unwrapping the old bandages, and neither as he took a good look at the dubious white spots that started to form in his absence. The bloodless tissue made the two last digits look almost ghostly. Quickly changing the gauze, he guided the limb back to the secure place on Elliot's chest, now rising and falling at a soothing pace.

He tried to do it all tidy and cleanly, the swelling seemed to give the palm back some of its previous structure.

There was a slight twinge of, well, guilt. He had no reason to feel responsible for this, warning her thoroughly, so no harm was to be blamed on him. He tried his best.

Wet heat rose from the throbbing wound, still soaking through the material towards the outside, as if all of Elliot's warmth flowed out of it. It was visible by now how much damage he really endured; the stress made his eyes puffy and sore, the weak shiver still haunted his fingertips.

Morris wished he would have done it to anyone else, to anyone who was just half as bad at cards. Someone who he had imagined meeting in that apartment; a vain, insolent snob. He would never cross that person, it seemed, at least not in this house.

Morris thought of hearing him play just once. It had to be enchanting, surely.

The thick brown leather of his overcoat enclosed Elliot's body, now laying on his side, to keep any remaining warmth inside him. Not even daring to waste the time he had bought himself, Morris too sat down on the mattress, leaning against the bare walls. They would wake together, never alone, never abandoned.

As he let himself join in the emptiness that sleep granted them, he dreamed of melodies and matches, of the peaceful company he had thrown away so carelessly.

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Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

#whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump drabble #febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday23 #reluctant whumper #aftermath of torture #non-con drugging #toxic relationship #injury #emeto #gore #infection #carewhumper #lima syndrome #morris fucked up big times 😢no more crazy eights for you

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven.

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind.

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there.

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair.

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story."

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.”

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh.

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?”

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web.

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project.

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile.

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter.

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise.

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine.

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes.

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile.

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior.

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging.

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers.

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle.

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 rpf #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1 #reader insert #pierre gasly x reader #his good sweater

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oonajaeadira · 3 years

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TAGGED BY @grogusmum !

1. Why did you choose your url? I originally started writing my fic with an OFC and that was her name. But eff it. Reader insert is more fun.

2. Any side blogs? Nope. Just side hogs. (I don’t know what that means.)

3. How long have you been on Tumblr? Oh, I was on many years ago. Under this handle? About 4-ish months.

4. Do you have a queue tag? Your ex is a queue tag. (Again. What.)

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place? So I could read/write Mando fanfic and ogle at all the pretty art. And lookit I found all you nice folks.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp? The biggest reason I came around here was to start Losing My Religion. (Not literally, I already did that years ago. It’s the name of my SoftDinFic.) I adopted the cast-off character name for my URL and that was her lightsaber--gold with a teal blade. In the end, I changed her to a reader character and left the lightsaber details out so the reader could choose their own.

7. Why did you choose your header? Besides Din, my greatest Mandalorian love is the Razor Crest. Bringing it back was the only non-canon concession I wanted to make in the fic. Technically, it’s another Crest. But it’s easier to write in an environment that everyone already knows. And I’m still not ready to let it go....

8. What’s your post with the most notes? Looks like it’s my masterlist! Yay!

9. How many mutuals do you have? About 20?

10. How many followers do you have? 265

11. How many people do you follow? 70

12. Have you ever made a shitpost? I don’t think so. Unless I did so unwittingly??? I’m sorry?

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day? SO MUCH. OOPS.

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Not yet. Now taking applications for a grand nemisis.

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts? If it’s a gif/header/visual artist asking me to reblog in order to use or save their art? ABSOLUTELY. I am getting better at reblogging fic and leaving notes after being a lurker for so long. (Honestly, I just didn’t want to be creepy, but I understand how it works now.) Sure, I LOVE it when my writing gets reblogged, but I would never ever require it. Although, everyone’s got a right to do what they want on their own page.

16. Do you like tag games? Yes, although I get shy about tagging others. I know they don’t have to play, but I don’t want to be a nuisance. SORRY, MUTUALS.

17. Do you like ask games? Yes! I love to find out more about folks and it’s nice to have pre-made questions! IT MAKES ME LOOK LESS OF A CREEPER.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous? They all are, in their own way. I think we’re all in a lot of galactic spheres here and in every orbit there are stars. Not just saying that to be nice. I think we’ve all followed someone who admired us (whether we knew it or not) and I hope we’ve all had the swooning pleasure of being followed by someone we adore.

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual? Artist crushes, 100% yes. I am a little flustered by a few of them. Especially my fanart/visual art mutuals. I wish I could draw and I worship what they do. <3

20. absolutely no pressure tags: (adira’s note: but really curious, esp about #1!)

@honestly-shite @cannedsoupsucks @feralhotmess @archaeoheart @unbound-space-trash @shanediomorrissey and @thepoisonofgod

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moiraineswife · 3 years

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Worth - A Stormlight Fic

Back at it with my Jasnah/Wit crimes. Come. Feast on my content.

Title: Worth

Summary: Set pre Rhythm of War, probably fairly early on in Jasnah and Wit's foray into romantic territory (though tbh they're early on in RoW, so this is probably like...a month before or something). Anyway. Jasnah takes a moment to herself to Think Deep Thoughts about the world. Wit joins her and they Think Deep Thoughts together.

Honestly it's just them vibing with each other for the whole fic because I get a serious kick out of that aspect of their dynamic and I really enjoy writing it. I don't know how else to sell this to you. I feel like at this point if you're here you're here for good. So enjoy.

Teaser: "Jasnah was respected, certainly.

She might even be loved, by her family, whom she loved deeply in turn.

But she was rarely liked. And seldom wanted.

When the impenetrable tides of the Cosmere pushed someone towards her like Wit, though? Someone who not only seemed to actually like and want her, but also understand her? Well, then she was only human.

Human, and lonely. So lonely. Craving things others did not seem to believe she actually wanted."

Link: ao3

Commission Link: Have me write other cosmere characters

Sometimes, Jasnah forgot that the world was beautiful.

Academically, she knew that it was. She understood the quest of artists and poets to capture it, just as she sought to capture and unravel the mysteries of the past. Different types of scholarship, but both worthy, she now saw.

Yet practically, day-to-day, she did not often have the luxury of thinking about it.

So much of her life had been spent inside, enclosed by stone walls, buried in dusty books, surrounded by towering shelves, not mountains. The cold glow of spheres had replaced the warm kiss of the sun for her for so long now.

She had never resented her surroundings. They had made her feel contained, safe. The points by which she might have been approached, or attacked, could be easily identified, countered, and understood, when inside. It was a controlled environment, and that was the kind she preferred.

Strange, though, that close confines should make her feel protected now, considering…

Well, it did not do to dwell on that. Besides. It was the darkness that truly conjured up those particular Voidbringers.

She gave herself a little shake, refocusing on what unfolded before her, like a masterwork painting she had been included in. A single brushstroke in the centre of the piece, an afterthought, there merely to demonstrate how small humanity was in comparison to the expanse of nature.

Her chambers, by design, did not have a balcony. The danger it might allow in had not been worth risking for the sake of a pretty outlook and some fresh air. As a Radiant, she did not need to breathe, fresh air or otherwise. And if she needed something nice to look at while in her interior rooms, she’d ask Shallan for a sketch.

Still. It was pleasant to stand out here, for a moment.

The meeting she’d attended in Dalinar’s chambers had concluded, and the others had left almost at once to deal with other business about the tower.

This had left Jasnah to a rare moment of solitude and free time, when no-one expected her to be anywhere, so she had been free to simply be where she was.

In a rare impulse, she had taken the liberty of stepping out onto the balcony, and now she savoured this small gift she had afforded herself.

She missed the peace of being alone. Save Ivory, of course, but he was as much a part of her as her blood or bones, and did not count.

Urithiru was absolutely the place she needed to be. The goal of her long years of solitary research had been accomplished. It was time to move on to the next, and this tower was its natural staging ground.

Yet a part of her wished for those days. Solitude had been her blessing and her burden, back then, but now she only thought of it fondly.

She had been free, undisturbed by others and their needs, to do as she had wished to do. She had been unconstrained, unbound, save the pressures she had placed upon herself.

The burden of a dying world no-one else had noticed or heard screaming, as she had, had weighed upon her, and her alone. Like the Herald, Taln, for all those years, she had held the weight of Roshar and all those who lived upon it. Unknown. Unseen. Ignored.

Now that burden was shared. She had others that would listen to her, that could help. A good thing. For in bearing it alone, despite her torment, her pains, and her best efforts, she had failed. Again.

A part of her missed her peace, however. There was little of it to be found here.

She smiled wryly at herself, drumming her fingers on the balcony’s stone rail.

Wit would likely have had something to say had he been privy to her current musings. Something sarcastic, yet blended with enough insight to be profound all the same.

Satisfy a chull’s most basic wants and needs - food, water, shelter - and it would be content.

Satisfy a human’s most extravagant, outlandish and unnecessary wants and needs, and they would immediately discover new ones. Most likely contrary to the ones that had just been fulfilled.

Yes. he would like that idea. She tucked the thought away to share with him when he returned. He had been gone for a few weeks now, off doing whatever it was that he did. She did not begrudge him his travels. He had to do as he felt he must, and at her side was not always where he thought he was needed.

Though she did not chastise him, she did envy him, at times. What must it be like, to have the freedom to travel, not only across Vorin Roshar, but to other worlds.

He told her of it sometimes, at her urging. He would never say what he specifically was doing there, but she didn’t much care about that. She didn’t want the details of his adventures. She wanted to know of the places he had them. What other worlds looked like, felt like, what their history revealed of them, how they differed from Roshar, how and why culture had evolved there.

Some of their most stimulating talks involved these things. Jasnah had found herself dreaming, as she had as a girl, of fantastical places that felt so tangible, so real, yet out of reach.

Wit would return soon, she believed, and bring tales of other worlds. For now, she let herself simply watch her own as it turned around her.

Thick clouds swirled overhead, like blots of ink dropped into water, expanding and encompassing. They created a cavernous ceiling so far above, making her feel enclosed, but also free.

The vastness of it made her feel small. So small. So insignificant to this world she had tried to save. Likely it neither cared nor noticed. That gave her a strange sense of comfort. It was nice, for once, not to be seen, not to feel the weight of eyes and expectation upon her.

A wild songling flew past at her eye level, sculpting the sky with its wings, trilling in warning of her presence to others she could not see.

Wind blew through the mountains around her, rising, and falling, and echoing in a song that seemed just for her.

Yes. This world was beautiful. This was what she fought for. These quiet moments. The spaces between the words of the history books. The moments no-one thought to write of, but which they lived for.

She had become so deeply entrenched in saving the world, lately, that she hadn’t taken enough time to appreciate precisely what she was saving. It was good to look out, now, to take a moment, to remember.

This was her world. If Odium wanted it, he would have to pry it from her bloody, clawing fingers. And she would not make it easy for him.

The door behind her opened, and Jasnah felt herself tense, alert. Ivory, on her collar, always keeping watch for her, murmured, “Wit. He comes to find you.”

She smiled, in spite of herself.

“Thank you,” she told Ivory, whose careful observation of the world around her, covering her blindspots, was the only reason she felt even a little safety these days.

Excitement rose in her at the thought that Wit had returned. A part of her, that quiet, cautious part that whispered always of what might hurt her, warned that her eagerness in this moment was more dangerous to her than any blade or poisoned bread had ever been.

She acknowledged that. She would be a fool not to. She was no sheltered child any longer, believing that if a person loved her, they would be incapable of ever hurting her.

Yet, for all she valued her solitude, loneliness was something else entirely.

She would be a liar if she claimed to not have felt lonely these past few years.

Jasnah did not need people. She had built a life for herself that all but ensured she would never need anyone else for any reason ever again.

But she could want them.

That feeling was rarely mutual, however.

Oh, Jasnah was respected, certainly. She was renowned as a scholar and well-regarded in many academic circles. She was sought after and coveted as a means of cosying up to political favour or power. She was needed now as a queen, a thinker, a Radiant.

She might even be loved, by her family, whom she loved deeply in turn.

But she was rarely liked. And seldom wanted.

Jasnah did not often dwell on that. She would not waste her precious time wallowing in self pity like a hog in crem. She had far better things to do with herself than that.

Human, and lonely. So lonely. Craving things others did not seem to believe she actually wanted.

At times she had felt like the last member of a dying species. Alien. Unable to properly fit with anyone around her, no matter how hard she tried.

Then Wit. Another who did not fit his world. Someone who saw her, and knew, they were of a rare kind. And by some stroke of luck they had found another like them. Two topaz spheres in a basin full of diamonds.

She felt it as he stepped up behind her, slow, footsteps deliberately loud so she knew that he was there. Then he put his arms around her, clasping his hands in front of her, holding her to him.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, quietly, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“What makes you believe I’m thinking anything?” she replied, absently reaching up and carding her fingers through his neatly styled hair.

“When are you not?” he returned, smoothly, nuzzling at her neck. Not to entice, simply...For intimacy’s sake.

She had, incredibly, found herself missing his strange little physical displays of affection while he was gone. So she allowed this. He was always more prone to such bouts when he’d been away for a time.

“Mm, a point,” she allowed.

“Come then,” he said, breath pleasantly warm on her skin, “A clip for them?”

“A clip?” she repeated, frowning.

“Ah, yes,” he said, as if he’d just remembered something. Likely which planet he was on. Literally. “A small metal coin. Not from around these parts,” he explained, confirming her hypothesis.

“And what would I do with a small metal coin that’s not from around here?” she asked, amused.

It had likely been nothing more than an honest slip on his part, a forgotten habit, but she always liked to see what she could tease from these little lapses.

“Oh I’m quite sure you’d think of something,” he said, lightly, “Perhaps even something somewhat clever, knowing you.”

“Indeed,” she said, “And what will you do with my thoughts, should I give them to you?”

“Torment them,” he said, promptly, “Twist them, and turn them, and then make them dance for your entertainment while wearing that lovely purple havah that suits you so well.”

She smiled.

“Come then,” he said, “Tell me what wondrous, profound, revelatory thoughts the great Jasnah Kholin has been thinking on upon this lonely balcony of Urithiru?”

She breathed in the crisp mountain air, and said, simply, “I think that this world is beautiful, Wit.”

Another man might have made some empty comment regarding her own beauty, which would have done nothing but put her off. Fortunately, Wit knew better.

He only rested his head on her shoulder again and said, with uncharacteristic reverence, “Yes, it is.”

“Beautiful,” she repeated, “And worth saving.”

He perked up at that, and though she couldn’t see his face, she could imagine the expression on it as he planned to do with this thought exactly what he’d said he would.

“If the world were ugly,” he said, musing, “Would it then not be worth saving in your estimation, my dear? Very judgemental of you.”

“If I didn’t consider ugly things worth saving, I’d have allowed someone to assassinate you months ago, Wit,” she replied.

“How kind of you to forbid them,” he said lightly, not missing a beat, "It’s been attempted recently, then?” he added, with an indecent kind of interest.

“Yes. Three times.”

“Thrilling. A good assassination attempt every so often does wonders for one’s reflexes. Not to mention their sense of self-importance. After all, no-one ever tries to assassinate the unimportant,” he observed.

She might have noted how strange it was that someone was pleased to have been the subject of an assassination attempt. But this was Wit, and that was therefore expected behaviour from him. Not worthy of any special consideration.

Instead she drummed her fingers on the stone rail in front of her, considering.

“I’d permit the next one to slip through my defences to keep you on your toes,” she told him drily, “But I fear if your head becomes any more inflated than it already is, it may explode and ruin my new havah.”

Wit laughed loudly at that, and in so doing yielded their little verbal sparring match to her. A token of her victory.

He kissed her neck gently, and she could feel the smile on his lips as he did so. That made her feel warm.

“In any case,” she said, settling more completely against him, allowing him to hold her more firmly against him, their bodies melding more as she relaxed into it, “I don’t think a world is capable of being ugly, Wit.”

“That, my dear, very much depends,” he said lightly.

“On what?”

“On how you feel about sand,” he said, with a dramatic sigh.

“I feel that it’s coarse, stubborn, and irksome to find unexpectedly in your shoe,” she deadpanned in return, “Based on that I think we’d get on just fine, given that we seem very much alike.”

Wit huffed an amused laugh against her neck at that. “I assure you, I would be much happier to find you in my shoe than sand, Jasnah. Far more so were it my bed, in place of my shoe,” he added, his voice deepening as he said it.

She smiled faintly. She would not object to spending that time alone with him tonight after his absence. They always bonded more deeply afterwards, and she enjoyed the pleasurable distraction it provided. A nice reset for her mind.

“Later, perhaps,” she murmured softly, “If you earn your place there.”

“You wound me, Jasnah,” he said, allowing the mood of the conversation to flow smoothly back to light, neutral ground again, without the heat of loaded implications. “You know I always do my utmost to remain by your side as your Wit.”

“You have done satisfactorily in that area thus far, I will admit,” she allowed.

He did make a good Wit, and she had employed him on more than one occasion, to the general devastation of his target.

“And in other areas?” he prompted, resting against her once more.

“Mm, I’m still considering.”

Wit smiled against her once more, then stretched up and kissed her temple as he said, “I think that you’re right, dear one.”

“I may require you to be more specific, Wit,” she said, smiling slightly, “As I’m often right.”

He chuckled, “Quite correct. In this case, I believe that you’re right in saying that a world cannot be ugly. Not in a way that makes it unworthy of saving, at any rate.”

“No,” she agreed, softly, “Especially since this world still has heart, left, Wit, and that alone is worth preserving.”

He hummed softly in affirmation, then said, “Do you know, Jasnah, I do believe that I’ve missed you.”

“It’s been three weeks, Wit,” she said drily, “You’ll notice you survived my absence.”

But she smiled, in spite of her words, and that warmth flared in her again.

She believed him when he said things like that. In truth, she believed him when he said most things. They may be convoluted or misleading, but they were not outright lies.

“And you?” he said, nuzzling at her like an axehound puppy under a blanket again, “Did you survive without your Wit?”

“Barely,” she deadpanned.

Then she softened, because she enjoyed this game between them, this playful back and forth that kept them both sharp and engaged, but she was discovering something deeper that existed beneath the surface of it. And she felt that worth noting, too.

Placing her hands on top of his, she said quietly, “I am glad to see you back, Wit,” her smile genuine. “Life tends to be more interesting when you’re around.”

“My dear,” he replied, in mock outrage, “This almost implies that I have a purpose in being here.”

“Further evidence that you don’t count as art, Wit,” she said lightly, smiling.

“ Further evidence?” he repeated.

“Didn’t we already discuss your beauty? More specifically its lack?” she replied, falling comfortably back into rhythm with him.

“Jasnah!” he exclaimed, “I worked very hard when sculpting this face to make it as aesthetically pleasing as possible!”

“To chasmfiends?”

He snorted.

“You are truly irresistible, dear,” he told her, tone half genuinely fond, half playfully wicked.

“Really?” she prompted, expecting the follow-through.

“As irresistible as a man lashed to a chull being pulled irresistibly along behind it as it rampages freely through the plains,” he said, completing the sequence of their dance.

“Chulls don’t rampage, Wit,” she said flatly.

“Well then pretend that they do. For the sake of art , Jasnah,” he returned.

She smiled, then glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes bright, twinkling. He didn’t seem offended or at all hurt by her jibes but-

“Did I take that too far then?” she asked, bluntly.

She liked that she could ask him those kinds of questions, with the knowledge that they would be taken with the sincerity she intended, and without judgement. A part of her still feared the answer.

“Not at all,” Wit replied.

Though his tone was still light and jovial, she felt herself relax again. That was the truth, for he did not tell those sorts of lies.

“I haven’t had such a pleasantly stimulating conversation since, well, since our last,” he added, and there seemed a genuine fondness in his words.

She smiled again, as he punctuated this last with a soft kiss, which she dipped back slightly to receive. Then he pulled her close, hands resting comfortably against her, chin on her shoulder once more, following her gaze out over the mountains.

They stood in silence for a while, enjoying one another’s warmth and company.

Then he punctured the moment like a stray arrow to the lung by commenting, conversationally, “Have you considered that were I an assassin, this would be an excellent position from which to stab you?”

Jasnah tensed. She did not flinch, she did not . He was joking. She knew that he was joking. He had told her, quite openly, that he could not physically harm another living person. Curiously, she believed that.

She still reacted to his words as if they were an attempted strike at her.

Then she took a breath, and allowed her shardplate to manifest around her. It was always there, safeguarding her, protecting her, but it felt good to bring it into existence in this moment.

Wit laughed lightly, but the sound seemed to be lacking his usual humour.

She turned to face him at last, sliding out of his grip. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her face with his hand.

“Always prepared,” he said softly, “Always ready for the worst to happen at all times. I know that. I know your fears, and I should not have made light of them with a jest. I apologise.”

She nodded, allowing her plate to fade back into the cognitive realm again.

Choosing to ignore the latter part of his statement, and its implications, she said, “We’re at war, Wit. It’s only reasonable to be on your guard at all times.”

Wit smiled again, that knowing, almost sad look. His hand rested gently against her cheek and he said, “What a convenient excuse that must be for you, Jasnah.”

She turned away, out of his gentle caress. Yes. It was a convenient excuse. He was getting in too close, learning to read her too well, he-

No. She shut those feelings down and took a deep breath.

He was right, of course. It was hard to trust a world that had dealt so much pain to her. Hard to trust people when they always hurt you. Even the ones that loved you. Especially those. She couldn’t articulate that to him yet, however. She was unsure if she even wanted to.

Wit seemed to sense that, and he slid his fingers under her chin, gentle but firm, and coaxed her to look up at him again. “There will be a time you can relax, Jasnah. It seems impossible to conceive of it now, but you will feel safe again. Some day.”

She leaned forwards, pressing her forehead to his. How sweet that would be if it were true. How nice it would feel. She said nothing, because she did not believe, but did not want to undermine his sentiment.

“We will save it, Jasnah,” he murmured to her, “Your beautiful world.”

She smiled, “Then perhaps we might actually enjoy it,” she said, thinking back on her earlier musings.

Wit smiled, “No, my dear,” he said, and she withdrew, frowning slightly, to look at him, “Then I will show you new worlds for you to study and learn of and feast upon.”

She smiled at that, very broadly, for it was the first time he had so directly stated, without flowery implications or vague hints, that he would like her to accompany him.

“Even the ones covered in sand?” she asked, amused.

“For you, Jasnah?” he said, eyes twinkling, “Why yes, we can even go to Taldain. If you insist.”

“I do, Wit,” she said, turning back to look out across the mountains, taking his arm and coaxing him to put it around her once more, enveloping her in his warmth.

Safety, even in the open.

“I wish to see it,” she said, closing her eyes and allowing herself a moment to imagine, “I wish to see them all.”

#jasnah kholin #Hoid #stormlight archive #cosmere #rhythm of war #jasnah x wit #wit #jasnah fic #jasnah x wit fic #text post tag #long post #fic #my fic #mine #I FORGOT TO CROSS POST THIS HERE

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danieyells · 3 years

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Thanks for answering my questions! I know it was a lot lmao but I Am Have Questions and very few people informed enough to discuss them with xD

I suppose it is possible they Oniwaka and Co. were being rent from their exceptions and not to Tokyo itself, but I thought the way it worked was that MC rent their connection to Tokyo itself and overwrote it with their own! I hadn't considered your angle before; something to think about haha

If I remember right though, Sitri's wings, and with them his powers, only grew in recently right? Like, a little while before the first Valentine's Event? That's why he had so much trouble controlling them if I recall correctly! But sustaining himself on that energy is one thing that can be explained (though! It's possible that part of Sitri's deep desire for chocolate in general, but valentine's chocolate especially, is the love that gets put into them? Not to say he sustains himself solely on it or anything, but it might explain the strength of his desires ahaha)

Wait. Do those character quests mean that collisions can literally send people into the pasts of other worlds?? Like fr?? And also, does that mean collisions are like, direct overlaps with other worlds and not just illusory versions?

Part of why I'm trying to sort this all out is because I want to write a TAS fic, but I needed a better understanding of how, exactly, the system works, and was basically about to throw my hands in the air and say that actually nobody goes home at all until they've fulfilled their contracts ever and that's that xD I've finished all the story content btw! Including chapter 11 and most of the translated events, except for the Canaan one (gotta get on that, pray I get myself a Dagon 5★)

Does that mean that we contracts are *unfulfillable*? Like MC's connection with Agyo was basically like "I want friend lmao" and then they got their friend, but does that mean that Agyo is trapped in Tokyo until MC decides that they don't want to be friends with him anymore?

Also, do you think that if a Stray Transient does eventually run out of energy to sustain themselves in Tokyo, they get booted back to their world permanently, or do you think they just recover their strength in their home world and then get pulled back over?

Thanks again for answering my questions! I hope that this is proving as interesting to explore to you as it is to me hahaha

I don't mind that it's a lot at all! Lol it was just a surprise. I'm honored to be approached about this kind of thing, and I find it very interesting, yeah! 'u' I love worldbuilding and characterization so thinking about/sharing my thoughts on it for things I like is always a pleasure.

I mean it's possible they're rending their connection to Tokyo, but I feel like that wouldn't take the exception away? Because it came from an interaction they had, not Tokyo itself. I figured they were torn from the exception and the exception and fighting robbed them of all their energy in the proccess of making them a. . .screaming, mindless fighting machine lmao. Like rending a familiar from someone? But that familiar is inside them? If that makes sense? I don't remember if this was explained to begin with let alone how lol I should reread it lol

Sitri's wings did come in pretty recently, and they're implied to be a puberty thing. The problem is that he says they came in "the other day"--which doesn't necessarily mean "two days ago" as convenient as that'd be. The Japanese is even more vague, just saying "When I was taking a bath" without giving a timeframe. But I kinda figured that, until the wings popped in, love from his family was enough to sustain him. Because Bathym doesn't have a family here, really, he has his fans and the guild. But also since his family knew about the wings, saying they were a sign he was growing up, maybe they have a similar power that pops in during puberty and thus were able to feed him others' feelings. But yeah they were new which is why he couldn't control them.

As for the pasts in other worlds. . .time doesn't flow in other worlds the same as it does in Tokyo necessarily. El Dorado isn't even around anymore, time in Shangri-La flows slower than in Tokyo, etc--but these places still participate in the Game despite that. So worlds and timelines aren't entirely stable--after all time's been reset over and over. Also, we have time travelers from Utopia(which is the future???) so if they were forced to conform to a single space-time path that'd be kind of difficult? So, yeah, time and space and memories aren't necessarily stable in collisions. I mean, if a world collided based on memories, who's to say those places are still exactly as remembered? It works for the jungle in Shangri-La because it's a jungle and how much will that change--but the collided oceans are connected to towns in other worlds? Dagon connected islands from various worlds into one, too--those can't all be his own memories or from the same timeframe. Collisions are pretty unstable by definition so it doesn't surprise me that time can get screwed up along the way.

But yeah collisions seem to be actual overlaps of some sort--since Macan remembered that he heard MC's voice that happened in the collision, Xolotl met and saw himself in the collision, etc. And those things had effects that brought them to Tokyo to begin with.

Oh, there's also Nomad's character story where MC was invisible to everyone but Nomad--Nomad could feel them too--because the worlds were unstable under Ikebukuro Coliseum and they reminded Nomad of the prison he was in, causing the Collision.

MC could travel the collision/memory without Nomad around and get accurate information about its layout to help him escape.

If the collision doesn't alter the actual past then there's no way they'd know without Nomad physically with them. . .and there's no way Nomad would know where to go to escape the prison if MC weren't able to get actual information.

Then MC breaks the lights--only Nomad can see them, but they can affect reality/the past in a way that influenced everyone in it. And they're able to escape thanks to information MC gathered about and influence MC had on the world that Nomad would have no means whatsoever of getting/doing on his own.

Then they saw present Nomad who said MC was his, MC tried to reassure past!Nomad that it was okay, they were the same person, and past!Nomad felt betrayed.

Past Nomad sees MC through the transient light and chases after them, bringing him to Tokyo in continued pursuit of revenge.

. . .and present Nomad, now home with Mc and having had resolved the collision, remembered that he'd been chasing MC through the transient light but had travelled to Tokyo to find them--but had not travelled to them. He'd likely forgotten who he was looking for because he was kind of out of his mind at the time and thought he was chasing after his own hallucination to begin with.

Now that he remembers he wanted to kill MC for leaving him but also knows that he's the one who MC left him for, he deems them half a traitor for only betraying the him of the past not the him of the present and lets them off the hook for now.

(nice kabedon--DAMN THE TEN IMAGE LIMIT.)

MC was the one he wanted venegence against when he left Utopia, although he still has to get revenge against the people who turned him into a tiger. But he went to Tokyo to get revenege against MC and made a contract with them without remembering they were the target. He says he won't kill them for now but someday, when his other revenge is done, he'll come after them for betraying him. Until then they're his assistant and they'll be helping him get revenge. If they betray him again--betray him "one and a half times"--they'll become the new priority and he'll kill them first.

But even he said that he thinks that he's crazed for revenge is stupid so MC figured out that he wants them to keep him in check. (He calls them 'traitor' fondly(? He smiles while doing it, I think it's pretty fond) and I wish he kept doing that but it'd probably reveal more to people than Nomad is comfortable revealing lol so he calls you by name instead.)

Also, canonness note, he declares them his detective assistant when he declares them his accomplice--and in the Beach House Andvari he reiterates that's your relationship too. Which means that his character quest is canon across events. And if events are canon--whether through your choices or not(at one point in the story you know Gyobu but you only met him in events until that point???) that means Mc making pacts with everyone could be canon too.

. . .but yeah collisions are just time and space freaking out. Maybe they're past resets of sorts.

And oooh fanfics are exciting 'u' I'll give it a read if you link it! And congrats on reading everything! *U* I've gotta do that myself lol and good luck getting 5★Dagon!! I wanted 5★Tangaroa(someone I have added has him and. . .holy shit he heals himself, he heals allies around him, he's practically invincible) but I ran out of transient stones and I'm poor irl 8'D The Canaan event is fun and also chaotic and will probably give you even MORE questions about how the fuck timelines and collisions work. Because it kinda introduces a new mechanic into the mix. So uh brace yourself?

The problem with "nobody goes home until they've fulfilled their contracts" is that some people just don't have contracts. And their own desires only seem to cause gates to open and take them, not actually bind them--someone from Tokyo(or in Tokyo in MC's case) needs to be their binding agent if they're not like. A World Rep or someone similarly powerful enough to stay on their own(this is a guess--they're probably sustained by being the System and thus stand on the faith of all their people from their world. Alternatively they're bound to Tokyo via MC as the trophy.) Otherwise they wouldn't note that transients disappear eventually if unbound by a contract.

Gullinbursti isn't attached to MC by contract anymore not because MC said "I don't want us to be friends" or anything but because MC refused to make a proper contract with him because he'd misinterpret it. But he's still hanging out, so. It's not immediate. But, yeah, there are probably unfulfillable contracts that can only be broken by death or declaration. Agyo is stuck with MC until MC says he can go lol--I mean they're friends now but it'd defeat the purpose of the pact if they went away as soon as that happened. Because MC wants more and more companions they'll never truly have their desire to have friends fulfilled probably. So anyone summoned that way gets to stay in Tokyo until MC is no longer in it or maybe until MC decides "I don't want people around me anymore/I don't want to see anyone ever again" and truly means it--which will declare their contracts fulfilled and send them home, if they have a home/life to return to.

As for if Stray Transients go back permanently, yes and no. I think they go back and recuperate their energy and they stay home if they don't have an outstanding pact(whether they're aware or not)--however if they were just there because they went into the light and had nothing binding them to the land but that energy/will that brought them, they'd go home without bwing sent back unless they really wanted it again. Thus they can be resummoned, intentionally or otherwise. If MC one day dismisses everyone, regrets it, and says they want their friends back, everyone would come back. But if they didn't ask for everyone to return they'd stay home(disregarding that they'd probably all go NO WE WANNA GO BACK TAKE US TO MC and the transient light would bring them back to Tokyo again lmao.)

So. Yeah, they'll stay home until summoned again, even after they get their energy back, I think. If they don't have a home to go back to maybe they float in the void for a while, kinda like how MC just kinda existed as the Exiles without a home or like how Robinson says they can't stay anywhere forever because they're Wanderers.

(Somewhat related, Shiro mentions in the Apprentice Santa event that it must be hard to import turkey to Tokyo. . .import it from where? Tokyo is closed off on all sides INCLUDING THE OCEAN. That means someone's bringing turkey from other worlds into Tokyo--a business-like summoning contract lol. "Come to Tokyo, bring goods from other worlds, and you can go back until I need more" basically. Using another world like a manufacturing plant lol. . .little things like that make me consider that you can go and come back at the will of a summoner, assuming you donct have an artifact or ability that allows you to traverse worlds as you please.)

Another thing for you to consider if you wanna be a bit more puzzled: remember how much belief plays a part in how things work in Tokyo. Consider. . .if someone claims they're not a stray transient when they actually are and everyone around them believes that they have a contract or guild or something keeping them there even though it's not true. . .are they bound to Tokyo by that belief as long as they're around more people who think they're bound to somebody? Will they disappear if people stop believing them or they're around people who believe they're a stray? Consiquentially if people believe a stray will disappear sooner than later does their timer run out faster? If Ose somehow ran around telling people that transients won't disappear with his ability to make people believe everything he says, do they stop disappearing because no one thinks they will? I suppose he can't lie to nature, but can those beliefs sustain people? I mean belief can cause Oni to be hurt by beans, can cause Behemoth to regain his sense of taste, can cause people from worlds that've been destroyed to become demons because the Angels invading will it to be so. So where does belief's power end and the power of the System kick in? Does the game end if MC puts on Ose's crown and tells the Representaives it's over and they all lost? Or would the alternation of belief on a mass scale cause an Exception by clashing with something more powerful than it? What, since they so value Systems and the Faith that sustains them, to the point that losing Faith in your System causes a full on collapse of the world it holds together(see:Canaan), is more powerful in this game than the power of belief?

#danie yells with anons #danie yells answers #danie yells at tokyo afterschool summoners #long post #tokyo afterschool summoners

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ximaginedreamsx · 3 years

Text

Unbound

A/N: Life ran a hard interference, but at last, I’ve finally made it back into my happy writing space...and I’ll do my best to stay here for as long as I can. Let’s pick up where we left off...and make it an extra long chapter to boot!

Chapter 7: The High School Experience

Monday rolled around a lot quicker than expected, or at least it did in Takuya's opinion. Today would be her first day attending Karakura High School...and she was nervous. A million thoughts buzzed through her mind at light speed as she stood at her dresser mirror, brushing her ebony locks.

What would the students be like? What would the instructors be like? What would the school as a whole be like?

With a slight sigh, she placed her brush back down on the dresser and opened a small drawer on the top left hand side. There sat the small rectangular black box that Orihime had given her. She slowly withdrew the box from the drawer and removed its top. The silver jewelry gleamed in the faint morning light that filtered through her window, and the sapphire eyes of the little tigers seemed to twinkle up at her as she gently ran a finger over each pendant. After pushing her back behind her ears, she carefully removed the hair pins and slid them into her hair just above her ears. She then freed the necklace from the box and fastened it around her neck. A small smile graced her lips as she examined herself with the addition of her new accessories.

"These really are beautiful..." she said quietly to herself.

A light knock on her room door drew her attention away from the mirror. "Come in."

The door slid open and Orihime entered the room. Her face lit up in a bright smile when she saw the necklace and hair pins.

"Yay, you're wearing them!" she exclaimed happily. "They look really pretty on you! And best of all...now we're both wearing hair pins! See?"

Takuya's smile grew as the auburn-haired girl pointed to the hair pins on either side of her head. "Thanks again, Orihime." she said as she reached up to gently touch her own.

"You're welcome again." Orihime replied, giggling slightly. "So, are you ready for your first day?"

Takuya's smile faltered a little. "I...I'm actually kind of nervous." she admitted. "This is all fairly new to me."

"Yeah, it's natural to be nervous at first when you're starting at a new school; it happens to everyone, for sure." Orihime said with a gentle smile. "But don't worry...that nervousness will pass before you know it. Karakura High is probably just like the schools you attended before coming here - only this time, you've already made friends before your first day's even started."

It was at that moment that something in Takuya's mind clicked...or perhaps, didn't click. She turned slightly and leaned back against her dresser, her brow furrowed in thought.

"...Actually...I-I don't remember...ever attending a school..." she said quietly.

Orihime's smile immediately dropped, and she looked confusedly at the ebony-haired girl. "...You don't remember?" she asked after a moment's pause.

Takuya slowly shook her head, and Orihime's confusion slowly changed into concern.

"Well...what do you remember?" she asked.

Takuya's brow furrowed a little more as she closed her eyes and brought her hands up to the sides of her face, her fingers pressing lightly against her temples. "...I remember moving here from...somewhere...several months ago. And I lived by myself for a long while..."

"Where did you live before you came here?"

"...I don't know." Takuya replied, the sudden sadness in her voice reflecting on her face as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I can't seem to remember anything about my life before coming here to Karakura. I-I'm not sure why...but I can't..."

For a long moment, the two girls just stood there in the silence of the room until Orihime spoke up again.

"Well, let's not think about too much, or we'll end up giving ourselves headaches." she said, trying to sound as lighthearted as she could. "It's your first day at a brand new school! We should make sure that you're completely ready to go."

Much to her relief, a smile slowly returned to Takuya's face as she pushed her self off of her dresser.

"Ok then." she said as she walked over to her new school bag that sat in a corner of her room. "We could look over my class schedule."

"Yeah, that would be great." Orihime chimed, walking over to Takuya as she set the bag on her bed. "Maybe we'll even have some classes together."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An irritable expression decorated Grimmjow's features as his glare shifted from the two men now standing in front of his bed to his new gigai, and then back again. He was barely able to suppress the low growl rumbling in his chest at the sight of the goofy smile on the shopkeeper's face.

"Well, what do you think? Do you like it?" Urahara asked.

"It's fucking weird." was Grimmjow's only answer as his attention was drawn back to the gigai sitting against the wall by the door.

"Huh? Weird?" Urahara asked, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Now what would make you say that?"

"Well what the hell were you expecting me to fucking think, when the first thing I see when I wake up is another...another me sitting at the damn door?!" Grimmjow snapped venomously. "I almost lost control of my spiritual pressure, and this damn shop almost got ceroed to fucking oblivion!"

"Now, now, I apologize." Urahara said, snapping his fan shut. "I suppose I should properly introduce you to your gigai now. However, I should ask first...have you ever used a gigai before?"

"I'm a hollow." Grimmjow said flatly. "That shit's for shinigami. What the hell would I ever use one of those for, and why the hell should I start using one now?"

"Well, guarding Takuya requires you to be with her all day...and for part of the day, she will be in school."

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes at the man. "...Who the hell said I was gonna be inside the school with her?"

"It'll be a good experience for you, trust me on that." Urahara said, a hint of laughter in his voice yet again. "I've already had both of you registered."

Grimmjow glared murderously at the shopkeeper, this time not bothering to suppress the growl rumbling in his chest. Without missing a beat, Tessai reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blue orb and held it up for the Espada to see.

Said Espada rolled his eyes and released an exasperated sigh. "And what the hell is that supposed to be?" he asked.

"This is a gikongan, more commonly know as a "soul candy," designed especially for you." Urahara explained. "This is what you will use to exit your gigai. It's a pre-programmed artificial soul that, when ingested, separates you from your gigai, and then animates the gigai until you remove it. And to remove it, you will need this..."

Tessai reached into his pocket once again and pulled out a black glove with a skull symbol on it, also holding it up to be seen.

"This is a Gokon Tekkö, a glove that can force the soul candy out of the gigai whenever you're ready to inhabit it again."

Grimmjow looked at the two men as if they'd each grown another head. "You people are fucking insane." he muttered.

"Well, we don't have too much time to spare so…how about trying it out?" Urahara suggested, reacquiring his goofy smile as he motioned to the gigai. "All you do is hold it up to your body and you will automatically merge with it."

Releasing another exasperated sigh, Grimmjow stood up from his bed and stalked up to the gigai, grumbling all the while. He lifted it up to his body and merged with it almost instantly. With a slight frown, Grimmjow looked himself over, scrutinizing his "new appearance." The only obvious changes were the disappearance of the jawbone mask that had been on the right side of his face, and the "filling in" of the hollow hole in his abdomen. Aside from that he looked the same, save for the exchange of his white hakama for a button-down white shirt, gray slacks, and dark brown shoes.

"What the hell am I wearing?"

"That would be the school uniform." Tessai replied. "All students are required to wear it."

"Here, take this." Urahara said, handing the Espada a small metal box. "That has your glove and your soul candy stored in it. Keep it with you at all times. You never know when you may need it."

Grimmjow took the box from the man and forcibly stuffed it in his pocket.

"Oh yeah...just one more thing..." Urahara said, glancing back at Grimmjow over his shoulder before he and Tessai exited the room completely. "Since you are going to be among normal human beings whilst at this school, you're going to have to do a little...conforming...if you know what I mean..."

"Tch, no shit..." the Espada muttered sarcastically, moving to follow the two men as they exited his room.

He really wanted to destroy something now...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The walk to Karakura High School was alight with the nigh-overwhelming excitement that exuded from Orihime's bubbly voice. The auburn-haired girl had somehow become even more thrilled upon learning that Grimmjow would be attending school as well, much to the Espada's own surprise...and, subsequently, his annoyance. He walked a couple steps behind the girls, a borderline irritated scowl etched into his expression.

"It's absolutely AWESOME that we all get to be in the same class together!" Orihime chirped happily. "You'll definitely love our teachers. There's Ochi-sensei, who's really nice but also a little outrageous sometimes. And then there's Kagine-sensei; he's kinda strict, but deep down on the inside he's really just a big softy. Oh, and I'll also have to introduce you to my best friend, Tatsuki. She's just the coolest..."

"Hey! Over here, guys!" Ichigo's voice rang out through the air, drawing the three's attention over to the orange-haired boy who was presently standing at the school's entrance with the rest of the group.

"Oh, good morning everyone!" Orihime greeted cheerfully as she jogged over to join them.

Takuya, however, paused momentarily to look up at the building. There were students everywhere she looked. Most moved about the campus grounds, heading this way and that, while some were gathered in various different places throughout, carrying on conversations with one another. The nervousness pit in her stomach grew slightly, and she clutched the strap of her school bag a little tighter.

...Ok, Takuya, you can –

"What's wrong with you?" Grimmjow's voice startled her slightly as it pulled her out of her thoughts, suddenly making her aware that he'd stopped alongside her.

"...I'm just a little nervous is all." she replied quietly. "This is going to be an entirely new experience for me, because I've never...I-I've never actually been to a school before."

Grimmjow looked at the girl then, confusion replacing the irritation in his expression. "The hell do you mean you've "never been" to a school before? I thought all humans went through this shit."

Takuya shook her head slightly. "I've never gone...or at least, I don't remember ever going..."

The Espada's confusion grew even more then; he opened his mouth to question the girl further but was cut off when Ichigo suddenly called out to them again.

"Takuya, Grimmjow! Let's get going or we're gonna be late!"

"Ok, c-coming!" Takuya responded; she took a deep breath before finally moving to catch up to Ichigo and the others.

Grimmjow followed behind her, his confusion growing steadily as his eyes remained trained on her. What the hell is with this girl's weird-ass life...?

"Welcome to Karakura High!" Ichigo declared, drawing the Espada out of his thoughts as the boy made a sweeping motion with his right hand as if to showcase the school. "Not too much to say about it, except that it's a school, and you learn here."

Takuya giggled at this, while Grimmjow just rolled his eyes and proceeded to mentally curse the shopkeeper for making him come here. Ichigo noticed the Espada's peeved expression and willed himself not to laugh.

"Wow, Grimmjow, you sure look ready for the day." he remarked, some of the contained laughter escaping into his voice.

Grimmjow leveled the orange-haired boy with a bored glare. "Of course, shinigami." he replied sarcastically. "Can't you tell? I can barely contain my excitement."

"Hmph...well for your sake, you had better." Rukia said snidely.

"Tch, you're never without anything totally smart-assed to say, are you...midget bitch?" Grimmjow shot back nonchalantly.

At that, Rukia whirled around, halting the group's trek towards the building. "What was that?!" she shrieked.

Grimmjow merely laughed at the female shinigami's reaction, while Ichigo shot glares at both of them.

"We don't have time for this! Let's just hurry and get to class!" he barked as he spun Rukia back around and pushed her forward as everyone started walking again. "And Rukia, will you stop trying to provoke him?!"

Rukia shot the boy an utterly appalled glare. "Oh so you're defending him now?!"

"I'm just saying that you've been the one picking all the fights lately. You could probably do without always trying to say stuff to get him riled up...especially now that we're around all these people."

Clearly offended, Rukia yanked herself out of Ichigo's grasp and stormed ahead of the group, grumbling all the way into the building. Ichigo shook his head at this, he and others reaching the building only a few seconds later.

"Wow, you must've really set Rukia off this time." Renji's voice drew everyone's attention to him as he fell into step with the group as they entered the building.

"Yeah well, she'll get over it." Ichigo muttered before shifting his gaze over to the red-haired shinigami. "So, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Urahara's orders." Renji replied. "He said I could better help in keeping in eye on Orihime this way."

"Did he now? You sure he wasn't just trying to get you out of the shop?" Ichigo teased.

"Lay off." Renji grumbled. "It's actually a good idea, despite whatever the nature of his true intentions was...especially given your less-than-average ability to sense spiritual pressures."

"Tch...shut the hell up." Ichigo snapped. "Like I'd need your help..."

"Here we are~!" Orihime sang as the group stopped in front of their designated classroom.

Before they could set a single foot in the door, their teacher stepped out. Misato Ochi’s eyes sifted purposefully through the group, immediately picking out Takuya and Grimmjow. A bright smile lit up her face as she moved to stand directly in front of them.

“The two of you must be my new students, how wonderful!” she proclaimed cheerfully. “I’m Misato Ochi, and I have the lovely honor of being your teacher. Now if you would kindly wait right here for just a minute, I’ll go in and get the other students settled and then have you come in and introduce yourselves, ok?”

With that, she promptly turned and hurried the rest of the group into the classroom, leaving Takuya and Grimmjow standing silently in the hallway.

As they awaited the impending call for introductions, Takuya attempted to calm herself down. Her grip on the strap of her school bag had become almost vice-like, but she could still feel her palms beginning to sweat as the nervous pit in her stomach grew even more.

A chanced glance at Grimmjow, however, had her temporarily ignoring her own state of being.

Next to her the Espada visibly seethed, the very notion of having to spend even a single moment trapped within the human-infested school building causing the blood to boil in his veins. A poorly contained growl rippled through his chest as his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Ugh, damn that fucking stupid ass shopkeeper to the bottom of the deepest hole in darkest corner of ten hells...!

“Grimmjow...please calm down.”

The gears of Grimmjow’s mounting rage ground to a halt at the sound of Takuya’s quiet voice, his cerulean eyes immediately shifting to land pointedly upon the ebony-haired girl. Her own gaze never lifted to meet his, however; instead, she moved a small hand to loosely grasp the wrist of his left arm before speaking again.

“This is going to be a new experience for both of us...new, and challenging. But, I-I believe that if we try hard enough...and if we’re patient enough...we can get through it. So please...”

The Espada stared at the side of the girl’s face for a moment before his gaze flicked down to where her hand held on to his wrist. Even as she spoke, he felt that hand of hers was trembling slightly out of her own nervousness. Grunting slightly, he pulled his wrist free of her loose grasp and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Whatever.” he mumbled, shifting his gaze to the wall directly across the hallway.

“The two of you can step inside now.” Ochi-sensei called from inside the classroom.

Taking a deep breath, Takuya turned to walk into the classroom with Grimmjow right behind her. “Here we go...” she whispered.

The two entered the room and stopped next to the teacher’s desk, drawing a wave of little gasps from their soon-to-be classmates; quieted comments immediately began to surface in the air.

“Class, these are our two lovely new students!” Ochi-sensei declared before turning to look at the two. “Alright, go ahead and introduce yourselves.”

“Hello, I’m Takuya Hokkaido.” Takuya said, bowing slightly.

“Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.” Grimmjow stated flatly.

“Wonderful!” Ochi-sensei chimed. “Ok, there are two seats over there by the window...right behind Mr. Kurosaki. You may take those.”

Not wasting any time, Takuya and Grimmjow moved to take their seats. As they did so, the little quiet comments began surfacing again, this time not escaping either of their ears.

“- lovely, indeed. Man I could get lost those gorgeous eyes of hers...”

“Wow, he’s so totally dreamy! I wonder if he’s single...”

“She’s a total hottie. I call dibs on her number.”

“Blue is my new favorite color.” (Girly giggles)

Takuya took the seat directly behind Ichigo, and Grimmjow sat behind her. Ichigo turned around to face them as they situated themselves.

“You did a good job.” he whispered; he then peered over Takuya’s shoulder. “Both of you...surprisingly...”

Grimmjow’s bored glare lingered on the boy for a second or so before shifting to look out the window. “Don’t push your luck, Kurosaki.” he grumbled.

Ichigo smirked, shaking his head slightly as he turned to face forward in his seat once more.

“Alright, let’s begin class, shall we?” Ochi-sensei said, flipping open a book on her desk. “We’ll start with the reading assignment you had over the weekend...”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Takuya breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as she and the others sat around on the school’s roof eating their lunch. She stood leaning against the bars of the tall steel barrier that enclosed the entire rooftop, gazing down at the other students moving here and there throughout the courtyard as she nibbled on a sandwich. The first half of her school day had gone by without a hitch, which served to dispel the greater part of the nervousness she’d felt since the start of the day. A small smile curved her lips as a feeling of accomplishment washed over her.

This isn’t so bad after all. I think I could get used to this school-going thing...

“Takuya!” the ebony-haired girl turned toward Orihime’s voice, the auburn-haired girl approaching her alongside a girl with short raven-colored hair. “I’d like to introduce you to my best friend, Tatsuki Arisawa.”

Said girl, Tatsuki, stepped forward and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Takuya.” she greeted with a smile.

Takuya smiled in return, reaching out and shaking Tatsuki’s extended hand. “It’s nice to meet you as well.” she replied.

“ICHIGOOOO!” Everyone looked around just in time to see the owner of the overly-excited voice barging through the roof entrance and making a beeline straight for said orange-haired boy.

“Keigo...” Ichigo half-growled as his hyperactive friend skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Ichigo, where is she?! Everyone told me they saw her walking with you guys, WHERE IS SHE?!” Keigo practically shrieked, grabbing Ichigo by the collar of his shirt.

“Get the hell off me!” Ichigo snapped, shoving the boy away from him. “And who the hell are you even talking about?!”

“Oh c’mon, Ichigo, you know exactly who I’m talking about! I mean the new girl from -”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Keigo immediately bit off the remainder of his sentence as he and Ichigo looked up to see Mizuiro standing in front of Takuya and taking one of her hands into his own. “My name is Mizuiro Kojima. It’s an honor to finally meet such a lovely girl in person.”

Orihime giggled, while Tatsuki just rolled her eyes. Takuya blinked at the boy. “Oh, u-um...nice to meet you as well...?” she managed, unsure of what else to say.

No sooner had the words left her lips than Keigo popped up in front of her, his oversized grin causing her to shrink back slightly.

“Wow, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!” he chirped. “Those eyes, that hair, everything so perfectly proportioned! Oh it’s even better close up - ARGH!”

Two fists roughly collided with either side of Keigo’s face, abrubtly cutting the boy off and startling Takuya.

“CAN IT, YA PERVERT!” Ichigo and Tatsuki yelled in unison as Keigo slumped to the ground, groaning.

Mizuiro looked down at Keigo. “Wow...you certainly are punishment prone, Mr. Asano.” he remarked.

“You people...are heartless...” Keigo forced out as he lay on the ground, clutching his face.

“Well, well, well...now what do we have here?”

Once more, everyone’s attention was drawn to the roof entrance, where three more boys now stood. Ichigo rolled his eyes and grumbled as he ran a frustrated hand over his face.

“Tch, great...not these assholes again...” he muttered.

“Who are they?” Renji asked, finally looking up from his lunch.

“A trio of purebred scumbags.” Ichigo answered scathingly. “The one in the middle is Kazuki, “the ring leader;” to his left is Hitoshi, and to his right is Ryo. They’re nothing but womanizing pigs...”

As if on cue, the trio sauntered past the rest of the group and stopped directly in front of Takuya.

“Well hello there.” Kazuki spoke, leering at the ebony-haired girl as his eyes overtly traveled the length of her body. “When I heard the rumors about the beautiful new girl in class 1-3, I just had to see it for myself. And now that I see you...wow...I am quite literally blown away.”

Growling in disgust, Tatsuki stormed forward, intent on throttling the boy; her advance was stopped, however, when she was immobilized and held back by Hitoshi and Ryo. “Kazuki!!! You has better get away from her you filthy lowlife scum!!!” she yelled, struggling to get out of his flunkies’ grasps.

Kazuki glanced back at Tatsuki, smirking snobbishly at the angry girl before turning back to Takuya, who had taken a couple cautious steps back. In one swift movement, he quickly closed the short distance between them, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, preventing her from moving away again.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be reduced to hanging around such garbage.” he crooned, his face mere inches away from hers. “Why don’t you come away with me to somewhere...a little less crowded?”

“No thank you.” Takuya said firmly, attempting to pry herself away from the boy. “Now let me go, please.”

“Oh come now, don’t be like that.” Kazuki whined almost mockingly, his grip tightening slightly; he then reached up and gently stroked her face. “You know you want to...”

“Alright, that’s it! Get the hell away from her, asshole!” Ichigo blurted out. “She obviously doesn’t wanna be anywhere near your creepy ass!”

Kazuki leveled an arrogant glare at the orange-haired boy. “Why don’t you shut the hell up, noisy bastard.” he sneered. “As if you could possibly even begin to imagine what she wants! Anyone can see that she’s almost completely enthralled with my boyish charm and - UMPH!”

A large hand suddenly clamped over Kazuki’s mouth, effectively silencing him. He, and everyone else, looked up to see none other than Grimmjow standing there, his bored scowl unflinchingly cemented into his expression. The instant he noticed Kazuki loosening his grip on Takuya he acted once again, ripping the boy away from the ebony-haired girl and forcefully slamming him into the roof’s barrier. The boy hollered in pain as he collided with the steel bars face-first, and almost immediately began to feel warm blood flowing out from a newly acquired wound created by the harsh contact. Hitoshi’s and Ryo’s jaws dropped, their own hold on the squirming Tatsuki loosening in their shock; taking the opportunity, Tatsuki yanked herself free, spun around, and bodily shoved both boys backwards to the ground.

“Ugh...what...w-what the hell is your deal, man...?” Kazuki whimpered as he tried in vain to free himself from Grimmjow’s vice grip. “And...where the hell...d-did you even come from?”

“Look here, idiot...,” Grimmjow began to speak, not yet bothering to his way. “I don’t know who you are, or who you think you are, but let’s make one thing abundantly clear. This girl is not to be toyed with, and shitheads like you who get bold enough to try might just find themselves waking up in hell.”

Kazuki’s eyes widened. “W-what do you mean?”

It was then that Grimmjow turned to look at the boy, who almost immediately began trembling like a dry leaf in the wind. His bored scowl had remained intact, but behind the glint of his cerulean eyes lurked an unfathomable murderous intent that caused the blood to freeze in his veins.

“Fuck off...or die.” the Espada replied flatly. “That clear enough for ya?”

Kazuki did his best to nod. “Yeah...crystal...” he squeaked.

At that, Grimmjow released his hold on the boy, letting him fall to the ground. Not a second after his feet made contact with the cement, Kazuki hurriedly clambered away, Hitoshi and Ryo following close behind. After watching the trio disappear from the roof, everyone turned their attention back to the Espada, shocked to absolute silence. Grimmjow’s brow furrowed when he felt all their gazes pinned on him.

“The hell’re you idiots staring at?” he grumbled.

“That was AWESOME!!!” Keigo suddenly cheered. “I’ve never seen those guys run away so fast in my life!!! An now, my beautiful Takuya can breath easy again-OWW!!!”

A fist has once again made contact with the side of his face. Ichigo glared at the boy as he slumped to the ground once more, groaning. Mizuiro tutted as he looked down at him.

“You should really learn when to put a lid on it, Mr. Asano.” he said.

“...Ugh, the pain...” Keigo moaned.

Ignoring the two’s exchange, Ichigo looked over at Grimmjow again. His actions had thrown him for a complete loop, so much so that he’d momentarily forgotten that the Espada had actually agreed to be Takuya’s bodyguard, much to their great surprise. With an exasperated sigh, he folded his arms across his chest and turned his attention back to Keigo, who was still writhing on the ground.

Well, I guess hollows aren’t the only things she’ll need protection from...

A minute later, the bell sounded, marking the end of the lunch break.

“Alright, guys, let’s get the rest of this day over with.” Ichigo said as he and the rest of the group packed up the remnants of their lunches and began heading toward the roof’s entrance. As they filed into the buidling, Takuya, who’d been silent since the “incident” with Kazuki, finally spoke up, but only loud enough for one person to hear her.

“Grimmjow...”

The Espada looked over his shoulder at the girl.

“Thank you...”

Mild surprise flashed over Grimmjow’s scowling expression; after a second or so, he turned to face forward again.

“Don’t mention it.” he finally said, the phrase feeling incredibly foreign on his tongue.

Takuya smiled at his retreating form, and for the first time that day, she felt her nervousness completely ebb away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Urahara looked up as Orhime, Takuya, and Grimmjow entered the dining area.

“Ah, welcome back.” he greeted them. “So, the first day of school has been completed successfully, I presume?”

“Yes it has.” Takuya replied with a smile.

“Excellent.” Urahara said before turning his attention to Grimmjow. “So...how was it?”

Grimmjow glared at the man for a moment or two. “I spent the whole damn day surrounded by humans, nobody died, and I’m still sane. Joy.”

“That’s excellent! Hehe, what’d I tell ya? I knew it’d be a good experience for ya. It’s gonna really help build that tolerance level of yours.”

The Espada grumbled as he disappeared down the hallway. With a slight smile, Urahara redirected his gaze toward Takuya and Orihime.

“So, did everything go on without incident today?” he asked.

Both girls nodded.

“Oh...well, everything except for this one situation we had during lunch...” Takuya said, tapping her chin in thought. “This perverted guy attempted to force himself on me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but Grimmjow saved her.” Orhime chimed in cheerily. “He got the boy away from her and basically told him not to come bothering her again. It was really nice of him.”

“Yes, that was very nice indeed.” Urahara echoed with a honest grin. “Well, I’m glad that you enjoyed your first day, Takuya.”

“So am I.” Takuya agreed with a smile of her own as she and Orihime disappeared down the hallway as well.

Urahara released a contented sigh, taking a sip of the tea in front of him. Everything seems to be going smoothly thus far. I guess the real question now is...how long will it last...?

“Kisuke.”

A smile almost instinctively stretched across his face at the sound that all-too-familiar voice. He then turned to see a black cat trotting into the dining area.

“Yoruichi! Great to see you!” he greeted as the cat jumped lithely onto the table and sat down directly in front of him. “How long have you been back?”

“Long enough to know that there has been a hollow of incredibly destructive power among you for close to four whole days now and none of you seem too worried about it.”

Urahara chuckled, bringing a hand up to adjust his hat. “Heh, always the observant one; I’d have been quite surprised if you didn’t notice.”

“You can save the flattering compliments.” Yoruichi remarked flatly. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do, starting now.”

“Well, to be completely honest, there isn’t a whole lot to explain.” Urahara said. “Takuya - a young lady currently residing here that you’ve not had the pleasure of meeting yet - stumbled upon Mr. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez three days ago as she was returning from the market. At the time she’d found him, he was injured substantially after being attacked by Aizen. He’s now repaying his debt to Takuya for saving his life.”

The cat shook its head in utter disbelief. “Kisuke, do you even realize what it is that you’re doing?! You’re not only willingly harboring a vasto lorde, but you’re allowing him to roam freely among humans! Do you realize how insanely dangerous that is, and the indescribable amount of trouble you could get into if Soul Society gets wind of it?! Oh, and let’s not forget the ever-looming threat of Hueco Mundo. Did you even consider what you’ll do if...no, when Aizen decides to come looking for his lost soldier?!”

The shopkeeper took a slow sip of his tea, taking that time to mull over his answer. “Yes, I’ve taken it all into thorough consideration. I’m well aware of everything that could possibly happen...rather, everything that will happen...if Grimmjow is discovered. Aizen, we suspect, will eventually send his forces here to do a physical search once he realizes that he can’t track Grimmjow’s spiritual pressure. And once that happens, Soul Society will automatically become involved. All of us - not just Grimmjow - will be in imminent danger of either being wiped out by Aizen’s forces, or being automatically sentenced to execution by Head Captain for what’ll undoubtedly be seen as highly treasonous acts against the living world AND Soul Society...or, in Grimmjow’s case, merely being a hollow. Either way, when this is all over, we all may very well be dead.”

He then looked up to meet the cat’s golden-eyed gaze.

“But...we’re prepared for that. We’re more than ready...more than willing...to face that inescapable truth when and if it should come to that. Well...actually Rukia’s not too thrilled about it, and for good reason...but the rest of us are. I mean, think about it, Yoruichi. This Espada is a wealth of information! We now have the capability to thwart any of Aizen’s plans before they get underway. Opportunities like this don’t just occur for no reason at all.”

Yoruichi’s whiskers twitched in slight frustration. “Kisuke, we’re not talking about some random low rank. This guy’s one of Aizen’s strongest soldiers -”

“Did I mention that Grimmjow isn’t loyal to Aizen?” Urahara cut in. “Or the fact that Aizen’s attack on him was provoked by the discovery of his plot to defy his direct orders?”

The cat’s eyes widened slightly. “...That alone doesn’t prove disloyalty...”

“He’s also made it absolutely clear that he has zero respect for Aizen’s leadership, and that he would readily kill himself before willingly carrying out any of his orders, AND that he plans to kill all three ex-captains himself once he gains the proper strength...”

Yoruichi’s eyes widened even more as she was rendered momentarily speechless. Her golden eyes searched his gray ones for any sort of doubt or uncertainty, but she only succeeded finding raw determination.

“Are you certain of this?” she finally asked. “Are you absolutely sure this isn’t just a ruse to get you to even partially drop your guard?”

“I’m positive.” Urahara replied. “He’s only been here for a couple days, but he’s already shown that he isn’t one for smoke screens.”

“...And there’s absolutely no swaying you, is there?”

“I’m afraid not.”

With a small sigh, the cat leapt off the table. “Well, I suppose there’s no helping it...I do hate when you get like this.” she muttered. “However, if this is the path you are choosing to take, then you have my full support.”

“Thank you, Yoruichi.” Urahara said, smiling almost triumphantly.

Yoruichi smiled slightly in return before rolling her eyes at the man and heading toward the shop’s exit.

#bleach #unbound fanfic #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #grimmjow x oc #chapter 7

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Batwoman Season 2 Episode 1 Review: What Happened to Kate Kane?

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This Batwoman review contains spoilers for Season 2, Episode 1.

Batwoman Season 2, Episode 1

The freshman season of Batwoman made for a perfectly fine show with a serviceable story and people who undoubtedly can act, but inexplicably chose not to. It isn’t bad, but it isn’t exactly good either, existing in some kind of nebulous, mediocre middle ground that can be a dangerous place for series to linger too long in the era of peak TV. Still, The CW show put a queer female superhero on our television screens every week, which somehow still feel progressive despite the fact that gay people were invented centuries ago. Then, Kate Kane (Ruby Rose) donned a modified and bewigged batsuit and rose to folk hero status as Batwoman in Berlanti’s vision of Gotham City. Now, Ryan Wilder (Javicia Leslie) is stepping into her bulletproof boots, and facing off with new and familiar foes.

Ruby Rose announced her departure from Batwoman after the end of season one, which left the show’s writers with a challenge, and more than a few loose ends. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—Kate’s presumed death in a plane crash at the top of this episode wraps up her story quite succinctly. It is surprisingly easy for the writers to make room for a new lead without disrupting the larger narrative in any substantial way. This should be upsetting, Kate should feel more integral to the show, but I wasn’t very invested in her, and it seems neither was the plot.

In the inadvertent season one finale, Kate’s dad and leader of the Crows pretended to ally with Batwoman, but pulled the okey doke and tried to capture or kill her instead. Sadly, we won’t get to see this family drama play out, but there is still storytelling potential in Jacob discovering the truth about Kate and reckoning with what that means now that she’s gone. (It’ll be interesting to see how they play the Crows vs. Batwoman dynamic now that the woman behind the cowl is Black.) With Kate’s death, Alice’s plan for familial revenge is ruined. She gave Tommy Elliot Bruce’s face so he could procure kryptonite for her that she would then give to Jacob, who would kill Batwoman, presumably before realizing she is his daughter. As revenge plots go, it is brilliant. Unfortunately, as we learn at the end of the episode, Safiyah beat Alice to the punch by taking down the plane. Now, Alice has a new nemesis, and we have a new Batwoman.

Kate’s plane crashes near where Ryan is parked in the van she lives in. She examines the wreckage, saves someone with CPR, and finds the Batsuit. She immediately has plans for what she’s going to do with that newfound power, and she wastes no time getting after it. We learn pretty much everything about Ryan Wilder—through flashbacks, google searches, and the obligatory CW superhero monologue. Ryan’s birth mom died in childbirth and her dad wasn’t around. She was raised in the system, where she got into trouble, until she was adopted, and turned her life around. She and her mom moved to a nice(r) apartment, but squatters attacked them, and her mom died. Later, she was framed and convicted for drug possession with intent and incarcerated for 18 months. She can’t find work because of her record and she can’t pay her court fees because she can’t find a job, and she lives in a van.

*deep, heavy, negro spiritual sigh* This is where I digress …

Ryan Wilder is damn near a full board on the trauma bingo, and doesn’t even need the free space. My excitement when Javicia’s Leslie was cast was immediately dampened by my concern with how she would be introduced to the audience. The character bio they attached to the announcement did not assuage my fear that the Black, queer superhero would be reduced to overcoming a tough childhood or a “troubled” past. It felt inevitable, yet I was disappointed to be right. Still, I reserved judgement til I could see for myself how those choices shape the character.

Bruce Wayne and Kate Kane are rich, privileged, white folks whose problems will never threaten their comfort or security. Ryan Wilder comes from poverty and violence, and is an extreme departure from her vigilante counterparts. On the one hand, it feels more apt for someone to wear the suit who has lived in the Gotham that the Waynes And Kanes of the world can ignore from their penthouses. On the other, Black women can have trust funds, too.

All I’m saying is, choices were made. And this episode leans into the worst of those choices, when we flash back to the death of Ryan’s adoptive mom multiple times throughout. It isn’t the most violent death, and it is an effective tool for telling this particular story. We can immediately empathize with Ryan because we know what she’s been through and what she’s lost, but there are ways to motivate her that don’t require her trauma being played on a loop in her own head and on our screens. But I won’t dwell on this if the show won’t—and I hope they won’t—but writers need to examine why they assign certain attributes to characters when they are portrayed by certain people. Is all I’m saying.

Ryan suits up and seeks out leads on the people responsible for her mother’s murder, which just so happens to be the Wonderland gang, and Alice. This opens the door for an exciting rivalry, with both parties bringing an entirely different energy. Alice was a cute villain but her connection to Kate meant that there was a limit to how far she would go. She had many opportunities to kill her sister, and didn’t, so her threats became somewhat hollow even though she did a lot of other damage. This season, though, Kate is gone and Alice has neither her, nor Mouse, to keep her grounded. Alice unbound could be very fun, and with the way her story intersects with Ryan’s, there’s a lot of potential for conflict and some really great showdowns. Bring in Safiyah, who also has Julia Pennyworth on her shit list, and it’s a regular ruckus.

How Batwoman Season 2’s Batsuit Improves on the Original

By Kayti Burt

Batwoman Season 2 Casts Victor Zsasz

By Jim Dandy

What I enjoy most about this episode is how seamlessly Ryan is pulled into the existing narrative, and how comfortable Leslie looks in the role. Leslie doesn’t feel like a replacement; she feels like a correction. Ryan is more fun to watch, and has a bit more chemistry with Mary and Luke. She’s also queer and Sophie is out of the closet, and I’d be very happy to see a healthy Black queer couple, though shipping is not the point. I’m already more invested in Ryan than I ever was with Kate. That will not be the universal experience, but Julia Pennyworth is still there if you need badass sapphic white girl representation.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Ryan wants justice and she, for the first time, has the power to obtain some version of it. But she’s a hero, or will be, and ultimately decides that the suit and what it represents is bigger than her and her personal vendettas. She’s someone worth rooting for, and I am ready to see what she has to offer. There is so much potential for compelling storytelling, and I am hesitant but hopeful that this season of Batwoman will deliver.

The post Batwoman Season 2 Episode 1 Review: What Happened to Kate Kane? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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strange-destinations · 5 years

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Dear Yuletide Writer 2019

(As usual, please ignore this if you don’t know what this is about!)

Hello, and thank you so much for writing something for me!! I adore seeing what people come up with for Yuletide and I am super excited for what you end up producing. I want this to be a good and enjoyable experience for you as a writer, so don’t try to second-guess yourself too much - just have fun making whatever it is!

Squicks/DNWS - no sex, please! (And it also follows that I’d rather like to avoid any noncon, kinky stuff even if it’s nonsexual, any other sort of sexual content, etc - that’s just not my sort of thing, really.) Romance is all right, if that’s the way that you want to take things, but I much prefer close friendships and family dynamics. However!! I am pretty much completely fine with body horror/violence, hurt/comfort, etc.

I love good dialogue, character interaction, twist endings, and imaginative plots - and worldbuilding! Happy endings are preferred but not necessary if it just isn’t working for you.

In general - if you’re thinking about making something gay/trans/queer/ace in any way, you should probably absolutely go for it, because I’m wild for that sort of thing.

AUs are… fine and good, as far as I can think of! (Obv no A/B/O or sex-related stuff please, but) canon divergence, fantasy, high school, etc seem all good to me! Especially if there’s a whole lot of clever nods to original canon in there.

In addition, I'm always welcome to receiving stuff in interesting and unusual mediums/styles. This includes stuff like Interactive Fiction (additional info here) and multimedia stuff.

Anyway, fandom time. Let's do this, y'all!

Fandom: Ruby Redfort series - Lauren Child

Available: I managed to acquire a copy of the full series online via my local library - and the physical copies were at my local library too. I don’t have a link to them, I’m afraid.

Tvtropes page: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Literature/RubyRedfort

Characters: *** Any from *** Ruby Redfort, Hitch, Blacker, Clancy Crew

About the fandom: I just love it a lot. I dragged its fandom out of the depths of Tumblr singlehandedly a few years ago and have been doggedly creating content for it ever since. There's just something really compelling about 'bright young kid gets accidentally adopted by spy agency' (yes i know that's not EXACLY what happens but I can dream, right?)

Prompts/suggestions:

Like I said above, I really like the idea of Ruby being essentially adopted by the whole Spectrum team.

I’d love to see some casefic! Blacker and Ruby working together to solve a puzzle or problem - either serious or mundane - or Hitch and Ruby on a stakeout of some sort. Or both!

Some general stuff I like - heists, murder mysteries, rescue missions, characters playing games (e.g. Travelling Lemon, word games, throwing increasingly ridiculous hypotheticals at each other) because they're bored or similar,

Spectrum office shenanigans - stuff that happens between books, when Ruby and everybody else aren’t in mortal danger and that LB will most likely glare disapprovingly at.

On the angstier side of things, if you want to stick Ruby in even more mortal danger than usual I am ALL RIGHT WITH THAT. Rescue missions hell yeah.

AUs??? AUs!!! Modern!AU with Ruby doing extreme sports vlogs and occasionally failing to hide the fact that she's part of a secret spy agency. Is Blacker a hacker? Or a fantasy/medieval AU? Or Ruby Redfort, in space!

I feel like I’ll be delighted with whatever you create, tbh. I can’t think of many ways you could go wrong with it.

Fandom: Bernice Summerfield (Big Finish Audio)

Available: Via the Big Finish website, and all of the boxsets from Epoch to New Frontiers are available for free on Spotify! Just look up Bernice Summerfield there.

Tvtropes page: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Franchise/BerniceSummerfield

Characters: *** Any from *** Bernice Summerfield, Third Doctor (Warner)

About the fandom: It’s like if Indiana Jones was shorter, actually did his job, and was a kickass woman who was also the Doctor’s companion at one point! Several points. And also she has a considerably larger family than Indiana Jones. Her spinoff kind of transcends a lot of forms of media - she’s in comics, print, animations, audio dramas, and one really hilariously terrible sort-of-fanfilm made by Lisa Bowerman and Sylvester McCoy when they were on some kind of cruise together. And it more or less transcends genre too. There’s been musical episodes right alongside the episode where someone very dear to her manipulates someone else very dear to her into killing (you guessed it) someone who is also very dear to her. It’s a wild ride. Anyway.

Prompts/suggestions:

The Warner!Doctor and Benny era of this series particularly delights me, because Benny and the Doctor just have such a lovely dynamic. There's a bit in the writer's guide for this era that mentions that the Warner!Doctor 'seems to be a grouch' but is actually 'a playful spirit who loves to have fun', and... I just love that? And there is literally no fic with them! Which is an absolute travesty.

I particularly like: heists, murder mysteries, rescue missions, adventures, playing around with genre and style.

It's Doctor Who/Bernice Summerfield!! Which means there's an infinite wealth of planets and times and worlds to explore, if you choose to set it in the regular universe. If, on the other hand, you choose to place it in the Unbound universe, slowly collapsing in on itself, there's probably a lot you can do with this too

The found family dynamic between them!! It's clear that, despite all the snarking and sniping, they really do adore each other quite a bit. If you'd lean into that, I'd be forever grateful.

Apologies for no real specific suggestions - mostly, I just would really like to see these two having fun together and being buds. But also? The angst is good too. Make me laugh/smile or make me hurt, I don't care which.

Fandom: Beanworld - Larry Marder

Available: ...I have literally no idea where you can pick this up. I first read it at my local library. I think you can get copies at various book retailers?

Tvtropes page: Non-existent. I should rectify that.

Characters: *** Any from *** Professor Garbanzo, Mr Spook, Beanish, Heyoka (but honestly please throw in everybody in there. I love them all so much)

About the fandom: It's a weird, brilliant, complete unique experience of a comic book set in a world where the rules are very different to ours!

Prompts/suggestions:

I know that pretty much the entire point of Beanworld is that the characters are not human in the least, But I can't help but wonder what a human AU would be like!! Beanish as a struggling art student, the Hoi'Polloi as the local street gang with an unfortunate gambling habit, Heyoka as the weird chaotic neutral genderqueer acrobat who babysits occasionally and is always standing on their head. Or any other direction you want to take it in!! I adore seeing familiar characters in settings that they couldn't possibly find themselves in, in canon.

Bean shenanigans!! What sort of things do they get up to on their Goof-Off Days that we don't see on-screen?

Explore some of the friendships/relationships between the characters! I love some of those good good Bean interactions. For example (but not at all limited to):

Professor Garbanzo and Mr Spook - the ultimate BroTP. I particularly love how well they get along even when you wouldn’t expect them too - how Mr Spook isn’t really a scientific sort of guy but is really encouraging and helpful to her endeavors. It’s good and soft.

Mr Spook and the Chow Sol’jers! A dedicated fighting team that work together and protect each other every day. I’m now wondering what the Chow Sol’jer in-jokes are. They’ve gotta have some, right?

Beanish and Dreamishness - the greatest love story ever told! (If you do end up including this relationship in particular, I’d prefer it if it wasn’t the focus.) Additionally, I’d really love it if you could play around with the idea of love in the Big•Big•Picture being different to how we see it/perceive it in our world! I know it’s kind of vague, and it’s definitely not necessary, but I figured I might as well put it out there.

Heyoka and... everyone. Literally everyone. I love how she interacts with the Beans - how they’re kind of confused as to how she works, but accept her as one of them anyway - and how she interacts with people outside of the Beanworld. The sequence when she’s falling upwards and through the Inspiration Constellation, and how the Constellation is so pleasantly amused by and encouraging of her - it’s really nice. And her as the teacher to the Pod’ll’pool babies!! She’s such a cool character.

Other AUs or canon divergences! Can't think of anything specific off the top of my head, but I'm sure there's some stuff out there.

Literally anything that takes stuff from canon and extends upon it! Especially if you’re playing into the amazingly bizarre and extensive world of the Big•Big•Picture. Because the rules there are definitely not at all the same as they are for our world, and that delights me to no end. I have so many questions about it that I’m nearly certain aren’t going to be answered anytime soon. Like, where does the Thin Lake/Four Realities/Hoi-Polloi zone end?? There’s gotta be an end to it somewhere. Are there other islands like the Beanworld?

Fandom: Rainbow Magic series - Daisy Meadows

Available: on your younger sister's bookshelf or at pretty much any library, bookstore or garage sale you'd care to visit.

Tvtropes page:

Characters: *** Any from *** Rachel Walker, Kirsty Tate, Titania, Oberon (but feel free to throw in any of the million-plus other fairies that exist at your discretion)

About the fandom: Oh, jeez. What to say about this? It's such a bizarre interest of mine. The series has suffered from intense seasonal rot, with literally every book following the same formula. And there are hundreds of books. But it's such a large part of my childhood that it's hard to not feel some sort of affection for it. Plus, there's so many interesting things to explore!

Prompts/suggestions:

Feel free to throw some Kirsty/Rachel shipping in there, because we all know those two were lesbian as all hell. I'd prefer it not to be the focus, though!

Any exploration of the fact that the girls have been doing this for far longer than is strictly reasonable with no complaints, questions, or problems. They've been through like ten Christmas specials and don't appear to have aged a day since the beginning of the series. What's up with that, huh?

To that end - there's plenty of myths and legends about the rules that fae traditionally have. What about applying some of these to the RM fairies? Are Titania and Oberon the leaders of the Seelie Court, with Jack Frost as the Unseelie leader? Do they do the whole Changeling thing? Are Kirsty and Rachel Changelings?

(And bear with me for a second while I point you at a specific line from the very first book, because I think it's very good inspiration for the whole 'giving a fairy your name' thing:)

Kirsty wanted to ask the fairy so many things. But she didn't know where to start.

"Tell me your names, quickly," said the fairy. She fluttered up into the air again. "There's so much to be done, and we must get started right away."

Rachel wondered what the fairy meant. "I'm Rachel," she said.

"And I'm Kirsty," said Kirsty. "But who are you?"

"I'm the Red Rainbow Fairy - but you can call me Ruby," the fairy replied.

Very suspicious.

A Discord server I'm on has been throwing around the idea of the fairies (yes. All of them.) ending up as humans in the human world abruptly, and having to adjust to living life without magic - and dealing with the fact that somehow, their magical domains are functioning perfectly without them. Which is a very compelling idea. How do Rachel and Kirsty deal with their now-possibly-permanent, no-longer-magical neighbours? How are Titania and Oberon coping, now that they no longer have to rule a whole kingdom? What sort of the things do the fairies get up to? Where do they stay?

Aged-up Kirsty and Rachel get called upon to deal with new adult problems that are blooming in the fairy world. (Tiara The Tax Evasion Fairy, anyone?)

...or anything else.

Again, thank you for writing for me, and I hope you get something awesome in return from your own writer! Good luck!

#Yuletide #yuletide 2019 #dear yuletide writer

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foxsoulcourt · 6 years

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Tag game

I was tagged by @fuzzballsheltiepants . Thanks for your patience love! (Never did get the f*%!ing spacing all ironed out)

LAST

drink: Green tea phone call: Grad school mate + former co-worker Katie about her resume + possible next steps text message: My husband saying he just finished his 8 hour drive to Montana song you listened to: Can I get a Witness - Marvin Gaye time you cried: Last night over an intense episode of Madame Secretary (S01 E16/Tamerlane)

EVER

dated someone twice: Yep. Still friends w/them kissed someone and regretted it: No

been cheated on: Nope. But, ummmm, I ended one of my first really serious relationships by making out w/someone else while she was away. I know, that’s a horrible a thing to do. It’s a long story.

lost someone special: You bet gotten drunk and thrown up: No, I HATE throwing up! And a big night out is 2, maybe 3 glasses of wine

fave colours? Lime green, teal, turquoise, deep purple

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE I?

made new friends: Yes, including a few dear ones here in this Tumblr world

fallen out of love: With ideas + patterns of behaviour; very few people

laughed until you cried: Frequently; more customary is my Laugh + Clap™

found out someone was talking about you: Ugh, yes. At previous job

met someone who changed you: Several

found out who your friends are: Yes, in several lovely ways

kissed someone on your Facebook friends list: On the cheek, yes

GENERAL

how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: Been off FB for 6+ mos, but if I logged back on...hmmmm...3/4? do you have any pets: None in the house right now; there’s a humingbird who hangs around when I’m outside. Yes, it’s the same one. do you want to change your name: No, I love it what did you do for your last birthday: Oh, this year was a fun one! Both daughters were home from far away. Dinner out the night before where I def laughed until I cried! Woke up really early that day to find a most wonderful fanfic surprise: FOUR, count them FOUR (!!!!) chapters of @spanglebangle ‘s Doe & Josten: Deductionists . They were particularly enjoyable because that’s where this beautiful sloooow burn started to heat up for real. Finished the chapters in between hanging out w/daughter H, cosplaying Delirium w/a crew at ECCC. Oh yeah, AND I had my pic taken w/Andrew + Neil at that same con! What a day. what time did you wake up today: 7:30 am what were you doing last night at midnight: Turning on the dishwasher before I went to sleep what is something you can’t wait for: Figure out what exactly I will negotiate people to pay me for in my next professional step. (OK, I CAN wait, but/and I’m low key excited about it.) what are you listening to right now: All Blues radio show have you ever talked to a person named Tom: All the time; he’s one of my besties; infrequently with the bro-in-law version (He’s kinda mean) something that gets on your nerves: Fast, agressive drivers, particularly male most visited website: Tumblr, AO3 hair colour: Is it brown? Dark blond? long or short hair: Short-ish + textured; I guess it’s a 21st century shag what do you like about yourself: I am unbound by age + enjoy making connections from wee ones to elders

want any piercings: Nope, I’m content

blood type: I don’t remember. I KNOW I should know, but all I know is it’s not unusual

nicknames: Ms de Milo relationship status: Married zodiac sign: Pisces, Leo rising pronouns: She/her fave tv show: Madame Secretary. Cannot get enough of that salty, open-hearted, badass boss lady + her family + staff tattoos: two - tiny constellation of three HP stars + a small stalk of forget-me-not flowers right or left handed: right-handed ever had surgery: Yes, each related to bringing children into the world + the after effects piercings: Ears + left nostril sports: Sports? No. Activities? Yes! Yoga, walking, bike riding, swimming, hiking vacation: We’re in the ‘visit kids at college + older parents’ phase in life, so trips more than vacations. However, there’s a glimmering possibility of London for spring 2019. trainers: New Balance eating: Right this minute yogurt + nuts + one of the last tasty in-season peaches drinking: still water i’m about to watch: Drama Actresses Roundtable The Hollywood Reporter + finish up season 1 of (all together now) Madame Secretary waiting for: A thoughtful, productive next step in the US Supreme Court Justice nomination process want: finish retooling + living out my definition of success at this point in my life

get married: already decades into that adventure; now refining the experience for the next chapter career: I help people + the organisations they are in effectively navigate change. It’s kind of like organisational therapy to be honest. hugs or kisses: It depends on who; cheek/cheek kiss + hugs w/family + close friends lips or eyes: Eyes shorter or taller: Taller older or younger: Depends nice arms or stomach: Yes hookup or relationship: Relationship; my brain + body shut down at the mere idea of a hookup troublemaker or hesitant: Yes. My modus operandi is watch first + then either ask the question no one else wants to ask or make an observation which stirs the pot. (It’s part of my professional tool kit)

HAVE I EVER?

kissed a stranger: Not so much drank hard liquor: Yes lost glasses: No turned someone down: Yes sex on the first date: Nope, not even close broken someone’s heart: Yes had your heart broken: Yes, in both love + work been arrested: No cried when someone died: Yes fallen for a friend: Yes

DO I BELIVE IN?

yourself: In many ways, most of the time; a little dodgy right now in the professional capacity miracles: Absolutely. Well, not those goopy fantastical ones. More along the lines of everyday small wonders, y’know like that quote attributed to Einstein, “There are only two ways to live your your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

love at first sight: Not really, although I think if your intuition is finely tuned you know pretty quickly whether it’s going to work out or not. kiss on the first date: Depends on the person + the date angels: Less in the Hallmark movie sense, more in ancestors watching out for us sense.

OTHER

best friend’s name: Four because no one person should ever have to shoulder that much responsibility - Bill (husband), Libby (since childhood), Tom + Rob (met in adulthood) eye colour: Some kind of greenish-hazel business fave movie: The most current one which sparks social commentary. Right now: RBG; looking forward to Captain Marvel. favourite actor: If I absolutely have to choose one, then Frances McDormand favourite food: Artichokes

extrovert or introvert: Gregarious introvert. When I need to facilitate groups I’m on; the rest of the time solitude or similar please favourite flower: Forget-me-nots, zinnias, lavender favourite hello kitty character? No idea

Tagging @higgins5 @i-h8-u-no-u-dont + @andreaminyard because they tagged me on similar thingies a reallllly long time ago + @sig66 because I want to get to know you better.

#personal #long #tag game #get to know your mutuals #thanks for asking

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wannawrite · 7 years

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New Student

Produce 101 / YH's Justin Huang X Reader Word count: 1681

Fluff, uLTIMATE FLUFF i guess lol

• you're new to the school • and Justin's ( volunteers ) been assigned to show you around • ft. bff Yuehua trainees i've said it but i will say it again I LOVE MY YUEHUA BABIES JUSTIN WAS MY ULT. thannnk you for requesting this anon, i made it as fluffy as I could, hopefully it lives up to your expectations. I'M SORRY IF IT DIDN'T DROP ME A MESSAGE IF YOU WANT IT REWRITTEN ( applies to all my works ) - admin L PS: Admin N is quickly approaching the last segment of her finals pls cheer her on my girl out there making moves i know there are some reqs she hasn't done but I knOW SHE WILL __________ Wind rushed by you, tossing your hair in about twenty different directions as you trudged to your new school reluctantly, footsteps heavy. It really wasn't your day today. To start things off, today was your first day at your new school in Korea - your family had to move due to your parent's job allocation. You weren't fluent in Korean but even if you were, you were not a very...outgoing person and you had already established a pretty reliable social network at your old school. Now, you had to start from square one. Who even wanted to interact with the new kid who came in mid-term? The thought of being completely ostracised by society scared you and it didn't help that you weren't the best at making friends. You weren't sure what to expect either. Whispers began floating about the second you stepped into your new classroom, you were sure they had heard of the new student from their teacher or something. That wasn't... totally terrible was it? Your face burned as you sat stiffly in a row that seemed to be rather empty. Your peers eyed you as if you were some mutated creature, even if you had attempted to smile or wave politely. Some of them shot you looks of pity or small smiles but were too caught up with their own conversations to start one new. It was humiliating, really. Finally, someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around, a rather plastic smile painted on your face. "Hi-" "Sorry, you're in my seat," a boy with brown hair that swept across his forehead said, looking apologetic. He wore a pair of silver circular glasses too. "Oh! Right, my bad." You blushed, hastily ducking out of his seat and standing awkwardly at the side. "Woah, Seunghyuk chill. I think you scared the new student." That voice caught your attention and made you focus it on another boy. This time, he had blonde hair and large brown eyes, he grinned at you cheekily. "I'm Justin. This is Seunghyuk. You must be new." Justin and Seunghyuk emitted this aura of freshness and royalty. They seemed popular. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack, cheeks reddening. "If it isn't obvious enough already....." Justin chuckled, "It's okay! Welcome to the school, I'm sure-" He was cut off by the abrupt slamming of the door and scramble of students for seats. "Good morning class!" "Morning!" Your feet rooted you to the space behind Justin and Seunghyuk, a part of you wishing the teacher wouldn't catch sight of you but of course, she did. "Ah! Y/N? Class, please welcome the new student, Y/N! Um..." she trailed off, scanning the room for any spare seats available. "Hang on a second....Y/N could you please sit next to Hyunjin? Okay? Good." Hyunjin waved you over, plucking her bag off the spare seat next to her. She seemed friendly enough but wasn't exactly welcoming either. Her hand wasn't even partly raised when your teacher asked for volunteers to show you around the school. "I would've assigned a student already should it not have been examination period....." "Miss! I'll do it!" All heads turned to the back of the class where a certain tall, blonde, Chinese boy sat. His hand shot up in the air, an eager expression on his face. Justin seemed to be bouncing with excitement, maybe even desperation. Suddenly, his eyes met yours and he sent over a playful smile. When the teacher hesitated, he pouted sulkily. "Miss, you don't believe I can do a good job?" "All right, you can show Y/N around the school during your break time, Ming Hao," she fired back. "Everyone, open your textbooks-" "Miss? His name is actually Justin." A girl from the left centre row piped up, causing a couple of other classmates to nod. Wow, he's popular among everyone. You thought, internally scoffing. But he does seem pretty nice...... Justin laughed awkwardly. "It's okay, Ming Hao is my name too." You heard him sigh in defeat before looking down at his shoes, ears reddening. The sight of that was enough for your heart to flutter, a soft giggle escaping your lips before you could stop it. As soon as it did, you blushed and turned to face the other direction, anticipating the end of your first class already. Seunghyuk caught your laugh, he elbowed Justin in the rib and whispered to him. Justin only turned pinker, even though it was his favourite class, he couldn't wait for his break to begin. ... As soon as the bell rung, students rushed out of the class but you took your time with packing up your things and scanning your schedule. It read that you stayed in this half of the class for science after break. "Hi!" The cheerful voice nearly made you drop your files, a few unbound worksheets flew out. Justin gasped, looking apologetic as he helped you gather your things. Seunghyuk scoffed. "Yah, I thought you were supposed to be helping her, not ruining her life, Huang Ming Hao." He scolded jokingly. "It's-it's fine! I'm fine!" You blurted out, gripping your things extra tight. Justin traded looks with Seunghyuk. They grinned at each other, then Seunghyuk trailed behind as he dialled a number. "Come on, it's break now so we can do whatever. I guess you must be hungry, I'll show you to the canteen," Justin said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and continued. "I hope you don't mind sitting with me and my friends. Don't worry! They'll love you!" The smile on his face seemed so genuine, how was he perpetually happy? "Um sure, but I don't want to intrude-" Justin blinked at your words and you trailed off after witnessing his amused expression. "No? I won't be intruding? Are you sure?" "Yah Y/N, don't worry about that. We're nice people," he assured though sounding offended. Your eyes widened. "Oh, no! No! I didn't mean it like that...You know what I mean- I-I...you know!" You spluttered, flustered beyond coherent sentences. Just great, you go around offending nice, popular and handsome boys on your first day of school. Great job, Y/N. How will you survive like this? Luckily, Justin just doubled over in laughter, shaking his head. He slipped an arm over your shoulder and practically skipped excitedly towards the canteen. ... Three other good-looking boys waved to the duo that walked in. A look of confusion crossed their faces when they spotted you, they whispered among themselves. One of them cleared his throat as you approached. "Hi, I'm Y/N. I'm a new student here and Justin's showing me around school," you introduced yourself before anyone uttered a word. Their clique seemed relatively relaxed, not some clique of stuck up, popular rich boys like your first impression of them, should you have only looked at their exterior. A boy with black hair beamed at you, offering his hand out to shake. "Hello, welcome to the school. My name is Euiwoong." "I'm Hyungseob!" called a guy who was stuffing his face with food yet still managed to look elegant. "Hi, I'm Zheng Ting." The final friend introduced, smiling. "Oh! You can sit with me," he offered, gesturing to the empty chair beside him. You settled into that chair, sandwiched by him and Seunghyuk, Justin rushed into the chair directly opposite from yours. Hyungseob slid two trays over. "Sorry, there's only two because we didn't know you were coming, Y/N," he apologised even though it wasn't his fault. You shook it off, "It's okay. It isn't your fault. I'm not that hungry anyways." "No way. You need to eat, meals are important and breaks rarely come our way after this. I can share with you. You need to eat,"Justin insisted, already using his utensils to divide the portions. His actions did warm your heart, they made it pound faster than necessary. That was most likely the cause of your pink face. Zheng Ting cooed at Justin, Euiwoong snickered but they both said nothing. Instead, they asked you questions. "So, where are you from?" "How did your first class go?" "Do you think Justin is cute?" You answered to the best of your abilities. Then, Zheng Ting suggested something. "We're headed to the basketball courts on the roof after school to play. Would you like to join us?" You shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, why not." ... Your new friends spent the remainder of your break showing you multiple facilities of the school. Euiwoong even insisted on showing off his locker as well. Eventually, the break ended and the group split up to go to their respective classes. This time you had science with Justin, who heaved all his things across the classroom just to sit next to you because, "I can't leave you hanging, Y/N.". ( wink ) It made you sigh but secretly, you found it extremely cute. Justin was a nice boy, you gave him that. The last bell finally rang and the two of you strolled towards the courts. "Y/N," Justin began. "Yeah?" You replied, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "I'm really glad you transferred. No offence! But, I'm just happy I met someone nice like you." "Aw, thank you. Thanks for showing me around today," you said, heart fluttering. Stop, stop, stop! Justin slung his arm around your shoulder, minimising the space between you. "Yah, let's be good friends and get closer. Pinky promise?" He offered his pinky out for you to enclose. You did. "Promise." "If you can, we'll take you to our favourite fried chicken restaurant after school for lunch. It'll be fun!" Justin shrieked in excitement, then flushed red. You giggled. "Okay. I don't mind." He squealed and hugged you. "I can't wait! Welcome to your new school Y/N! Welcome to your new group of friends! We'll treat you well, I will treat you better." You hugged Justin back, heart thudding. You too, were happy about your new school and all the happening adventures with your group of friends.

#yuehua trainees #yuehua entertainment #justin huang #zhu zheng ting #ahn hyungseob #lee euiwoong #choi seunghyuk #produce 101 #produce 101 scenarios #kpop

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scifihorroradventure · 7 years

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FRANKENSTEIN UNBOUND (1990)

The year is 2031. Completing his work on a new particle beam weapon for the government, scientist Joe Buchanan (John Hurt) assures that the atmospheric "time slips" appearing in the skies are harmless and totally reversible. Unfortunately, as he returns home that day, a time slip appears above his house and sucks him in, sending him through time and space to Geneva in 1817. As he attempts to piece the situation together, Joe encounters none other than Doctor Victor Frankenstein (Raul Julia). An innocent girl (Catherine Corman) is currently on trial for the death of Victor's brother William, but Joe soon discovers that the culprit is none other than Victor's own Monster (Nick Brimble). Despite Joe's pleading for Victor to come forth with the truth, the girl is executed for the murder. Having met her at the girl's trial, Joe spends time with Mary Shelley (Bridget Fonda), the author of the "Frankenstein" novel, though at this point she has yet to write it. When Victor refuses to give in to the Monster's demands to create a mate for him, the Monster lashes out and kills Victor's fiance Elizabeth (Catherine Rabett). Desperate, Victor forces Joe into helping resurrect her as a second monster. Realizing he has to stop Victor and the Monster before they cause any more harm, Joe uses a newly constructed version of his particle beam to teleport them all into a frozen wasteland of a future. Victor and Elizabeth are killed and Joe hunts the Monster down to finish him once and for all.

A downright bizarre film, Frankenstein Unbound is an oddly captivating experience. Its premise is completely insane and yet somehow it works far better than it has any right to. Based on Brian Aldiss' novel of the same name, Unbound was the first film Roger Corman had directed in nearly twenty years (the last one being Von Richthofen and Brown in 1971). Part of why the film works so well is that, despite all the time travel and dystopian framework, once Joe ends up in 1817, the movie mostly forgets about all that and turns into a pretty decent Frankenstein movie. The relationship between Victor and the Monster is portrayed rather well, with the latter much more humanized than most incarnations. Wisely, the film skips the more well known parts of the Frankenstein story - Victor creating the Monster - picking up well after the Monster has escaped out into the world, allowing the story to venture into new territory right off the bat (or at least new territory for most film adaptations). The movie looks very nice, filmed in some very pretty sets and locations. The special effects in the future at the start of the film are serviceable, most notably the purple space-like time slip that opens and absorbs Joe throughout the movie, which is a really striking visual.

What really makes the film work, though, is its cast. John Hurt makes for a great lead as Joe Buchanan, a well-meaning man who is nonetheless blind to his own creation's side effects, even as giant portals begin to open in the sky. Luckily, Joe proves to be a likeable hero who lets common sense prevail more often than not when he could've easily been a jackass know-it-all type. If there's anything about Joe that could be legitimately complained about, it's that there are times where it doesn't feel like he has very much to do other than stand around and watch the story of Frankenstein unfold around him. This, of course, changes by the explosive finale, where he takes a very active role in things. But while John Hurt may be the hero of the story, Raul Julia steals the show as the infamous Dr. Victor Frankenstein. Julia is such an odd casting choice for the doctor, but like the over the top premise of the movie, somehow it just works. Julia's Victor is a clearly unstable man, having reached a peak of frustration and fury with the Monster, not caring for much else. While he views the Monster as a threat that must be destroyed, he otherwise sees nothing wrong with what he's done, even letting innocent Justine hang so that he can be allowed to carry on with his work. By the time Elizabeth is killed, he has completely lost it, vowing to not let her pay for his mistakes even as he turns her into an even more hideous creature than the Monster. Bridget Fonda plays Mary Shelley and honestly doesn't have very much to do. She acts mainly as a love interest for Joe, but all she really accomplishes is muddling the line between fiction and reality for no real reason. This is supposed to be "real life," yet Victor and the Monster actually exist, and nothing is really said about it either way, not even by Joe. Later, Joe shows Mary a completed version of "Frankenstein," but apparently isn't worried about what possible effect this will have on history. While Fonda plays the character well enough, she's an overall strange addition that doesn't really do anything but raise several questions that otherwise wouldn't have been there.

As the titular Monster, Nick Brimble plays the character less like a hulking beast and more as the lost and confused being that he is in the original story, resorting to violence when his anger with Victor reaches its peak - which is frequent. Brimble is far more talkative and coherent than most screen incarnations of the Monster, though he still has trouble comprehending concepts such as what murder truly means, even after killing Victor's brother William. He also can't seem to understand that Victor didn't make everyone else in the world (he asks Victor why he didn't "make William stronger" and later asks Joe if Victor made him or not), which is odd considering the whole "I am all alone and I want you to make me a mate so I can no longer be alone" thing. While not one of the most iconic incarnations of the Frankenstein Monster, Brimble makes for a good one, his stretched out face prostheses effectively grotesque yet striking in a way completely different from the traditional look most people associate the Monster with. If there's one oddity about the Monster's role in the film, it's not because of Brimble, but rather the film itself. Throughout the film, the Monster is portrayed as an admittedly violent, but still ultimately sympathetic, misunderstood, and tragic character, as he usually is. Which is why it's so disturbing when the film goes full on Jason Voorhees on him during the climactic fight with Joe in the futuristic laboratory. We have to watch him get shot multiple times, impaled, his arm torn off, and then finally slowly, slowly burned to death, screaming in agony and confusion all the while. Yes, the Monster had to be dealt with by the end of the film, but the way they went about it was just so drawn out and needlessly cruel, it's rather uncomfortable to watch.

Upon first glance, one might be inclined to dismiss Frankenstein Unbound. Roger Corman's involvement, the initially odd casting of Raul Julia, the futuristic, dystopian, and time travel elements, when all rolled together, might make one think that this will be a bad, over the top film that does no justice to the Frankenstein story. And while it certainly is over the top and cheesy, it's done in such a serious manner that one can't help but find themselves drawn in by it. At the very least, the performances by the cast alone make this movie worth a watch.

Rating: ★★★★

Cast: John Hurt ... Dr. Joe Buchanan Raul Julia ... Dr. Victor Frankenstein Nick Brimble ... The Monster Bridget Fonda ... Mary Shelley Catherine Rabett ... Elizabeth Terri Treas ... Computer Voice Jason Patric ... Lord Byron Michael Hutchence ... Percy Shelley Catherine Corman ... Justine Moritz

Director: Roger Corman. Producer: Jay Cassidy (associate producer), Roger Corman, Kobi Jaeger, Laura J. Medina (associate producer), and Thom Mount. Writer: Brian Aldiss (original "Frankenstein Unbound" novel), Roger Corman (screenplay), F.X. Feeney (screenplay), and Mary Shelley (original "Frankenstein" novel). Music: Carl Davis. Special Effects: Nick Dudman (special makeup effects), Suzy Evans (prosthetic makeup assistant), Suzanne Reynolds (prosthetic makeup), Renato Agostini (set special effects), Reza Karim (foam latex supervisor), Betzy Bromberg (optical supervisor), Syd Dutton (matte artist), Bruno George (optical effects), Rhonda C. Gunner (computer animation and displays), Richard E. Hollander (computer animation and displays), John Huneck (visual effects camera), Adam Kowalski (special rigging), Lynn Ledgerwood (special engineering), Gregory L. McMurry (computer animation and displays), Bret Mixon (rotoscoping supervisor), Gary Rhodaback (modelmaker), Mark Sawicki (matte photography), Robert Stromberg (matte artist), Catherine Sudolcan (production manager: visual effects), Bill Taylor (visual effects camera), Gene Warren Jr. (visual effects supervisor), Christopher Warren (visual effects assistant), John C. Wash (computer animation and displays), and David S. Williams Jr. (optical effects).

#sci fi horror adventure #frankenstein unbound #roger corman #frankenstein #mad scientists #time travel #1990s

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cloudydamage3 · 5 years

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