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greedyhoneyz · 8 months

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Paradise Kiss

.ೃ࿔*:･pairing: benjamin pavard x reader

.ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: summer fun with the girl of his dreams.

.ೃ࿔*:･cw: fluff. brief slapping.

.ೃ࿔*:･authors note: used google translate. some of the translations have me like 🥴 so please don’t drag me im trying. i seriously need to get better at describing kissing and romance in itself. didnt proofread.

Underneath the sweltering sun, primrose sand stretched out alongside the shore. It gleamed golden as the sea-blue tide glistened and twinkled along waves rolling in and out in rhythm as steady as a thumping heart.

The beach had welcomed Benjamin and (name) a day before when the sand was damp and the sea had churned to become a deep inky blue. However, as the evening sun settled beneath the horizon, welcoming night, the early morning sun brought a day of sunlight and hot spells. The beach, once desolate, invited its guests and residents along the coast to its clear waters and granular land.

The sand looked clean like sugar spread out for miles as it squished between Benjamin’s and (name’s) toes. Hand in hand, the couple trudged along the beach, a cluster of their belongings hooked underneath Benjamin’s arm.

The warm air was moist and humid; waves crashed quietly against the shore, dampening the beach surface with artefacts of sea shells– the beach house had long vanished into the distance.

It was clear outside and not a cloud lingered in the sky.

Music, loud chatter, the shrieking screams of children playing in the ocean, and the squalls of seagulls hovered above lurked in the air as (name) and Benjamin entered the swarm.

The essence of human life brightened the beach; people accustomed themselves to the toasty sand beneath their feet and the spirited ocean or rested beneath beach parasols and chairs, away from the scorching sun.

Benjamin drew his foot across the sand, scoring a line, and wrestled with the parasol perched into the sand. He decorated their claimed space with beach towels and the rest of their belongings whilst (name) watched, a portable fan held to her face.

“Voila!” Benjamin exclaimed, producing their newly decorated seats. He helped (name) to the floor, beneath the shade and settled beside her.

He studied her quietly, his eyes closely daring to her hands and the restful expression worn across her face as she forced her fan into his hand. “Tenez ça.” (Hold this.)

Rummaging through her beach bag, (name) fiddled through her belongings, pooling whatever she caught into her lap.

She turned to Benjamin with a smile and flapped her fingers, urging him closer.

He leaned in, squeezing his eyes shut as her full lips pulled together to form a pucker. He shuddered at the gentle wind that puffed out through her nostrils, bristling against the hairs on the top of his lip. He smiled meekly, his lips trembled, and slowly brought his forehead to hers.

They settled into a bubble of silence, the beach sounds muted beneath the gentle winds as (name) lathered her hands together, a mischievous smirk quirked at the corners of her mouth.

She caught Benjamin by surprise as her hand rose to blemish his cheek, smearing him with sunscreen. The force she exerted was so strong, it sent his head flying, along with splatters of white.

(name) burst into a fit of giggles, hobbling onto her knees. She hovered above Benjamin who lay awestruck on his beach towel, grinning maniacally, and crept her hands to his face. “Vous avez oublié de mettre de la crème solaire sur votre visage.” (You forgot to put sunscreen on your face.)

Dampening her hands, (name) worked her fingers along his face as Benjamin lay still beneath her, a hand on his swollen cheek.

His awestruck gaze bored into her face whilst her fingers gently motioned across his forehead and chin.

“Ah, c'est très bien.” (This is nice) Benjamin mewled quietly. He shut his eyes and blew a blissful breath between his lips.

“It’s nice for you,” (name) retorted sharply, dropping her hands. She hobbled away from Benjamin, laying back on her beach towel, and threw her sunscreen to him. “My turn.”

Slowly opening an eyelid, Benjamin turned his gaze to (name) as she settled herself beneath their beach umbrella. She laid on her stomach, crossed her arms and rested her chin on her hands, waiting.

Benjamin sat up leisurely and picked up the bottle, beginning to quietly lather his hands.

Perched on his knees, his figure casting a dark shadow over (name) as he brought his hands down to her back. Benjamin smoothed his hands across her skin, sculpting the lotion into her curves and along her thighs.

“Je suis bon pour ça, n'est-ce pas?” (I’m good at this, aren’t I?) Benjamin mused as (name) rolled onto her back. He rubbed her stomach tenderly and ran his palms up along her collarbones and neck.

“Oui, tu as des mains douces.” (Yes, you have gentle hands.) (name) hummed, shaking her head. She flashed a smile at Benjamin and blew a relief breath whilst he worked down her figure. He rubbed along her legs, applying extra care to her thighs before wiping his hands clean on his swim trunks.

Plopping flat beside (name), Benjamin closed his eyes, tucking his arms behind his head, and tuned to the heartful chatter and screams around him. Beneath the dark, shadow cast by their pergola, stillness came as the wind suddenly quelled, and a torrid wave of heat pervaded the shore.

Benjamin peeled his eyelids open, briefly glimpsing at the pergola above him and quickly stood to his feet. He fixed his swim trunks and gently called to (name) as she scrolled through her phone. “Ma douce,” (My sweet,) He cooed, his foot lightly pushing her beach bag aside. “Je vais nager, viens avec moi.” (I’m going to swim, come with me.)

“No. I want to stay here.” (name) cried playfully.

“Porqoui?” Benjamin frowned. He shifted his weight on his left leg and propped his hands on his waist, furrowing his brows together.

(name) shrugged, setting her phone on her chest. “Il fait trop chaud pour bouger.” (It's too hot to move.)

“Donc? L’eau va vous rafraîchir.” (So? The water will cool you down.)

“Help me up then.” (name) held her arms up and nodded for Benjamin to come closer. He shuffled towards her, crouched to his knees and curled his arms beneath her armpits, hoisting her up onto her feet.

“Thanks.” (name) muffled. She placed a kiss on the corner of Benjamin’s lips and fixed her bikini bottoms.

Hand in hand, both Benjamin and (name) sauntered through the golden grains of sand towards the ocean. The small crystals of sand that cushioned their toes, lay damp beneath the white foamed waves that gently broke at the shoreline.

The ocean was like a gentle blanket of brochure-blue, its horizon edged with a golden tint as it stretched along the horizon, and mingled with the silk sky.

Dipping into the ocean, Benjamin swam thoroughly through the water with (name) tightly hooked to his chest. He submerged deeper and deeper as the ocean reflected an emerald green and gawked in awe as (name) broke free. She glided forward, kicking her feet, and speedily twirled to Benjamin. She waved at him and managed to express a cheeky grin beneath her puff cheeks before swimming off to the abyss.

Benjamin tailed after her, crawling through the abyss as (name) twirled and spun around her. She toyed with him, swimming below him, tugging at his legs before he snagged her in a smooth attempt, and luged them both to the surface. Breaking through the rollers of gem-blue waves, the two fought for grasps of air.

Benjamin exhaled heavily and whipped his hands through his drenched locks as (name) reclined herself in her surroundings. He gaped at her and wadded towards him, her swiftful movements caught her attention.

She jeered her head to him and beamed from ear to ear at the awe-struck look in his eyes.

Not a word was muttered as Benjamin held his hands to her face, and slowly leaned in. His nose bristled against hers, their foreheads lightly tapped each other as his lips moved to take claim. He kissed her tenderly, his hands cupping the sides of her face and moaned euphorically as she shifted her lips in battle with him, luring him closer.

The beach horizon was a hook of gold that twinkled behind the gentle ripples of the ocean and stood muffed beneath the song of the waves. It glistened at a distance and watched fleetingly as both Benjamin and (name) floated away from the shore, hazed by their love and compassion.

#benjamin pavard x reader #benjamin pavard imagine #benjamin pavard x black!reader #black!reader #football fanfic #football imagine #football x reader #football fanfiction

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the-obnoxious-sibling · 4 months

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in which lunch is had, old stories are told, and a misunderstanding is cleared up.

part five of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4) if you have no idea what i'm talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that's the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus some complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i'm talking about: my intense examination of the cover to chapter 581 and frustrated googling of phrases like “oden cart curtain name” has finally paid off! also, i’d apologize for where this part ends, but that would be an enormous lie, i’ve been planning on ending this part on that line from the very beginning. >:3c enjoy!

With heavier topics taken off the table, the flow of conversation became smooth and easy. Shanks asked about Buggy’s crew, his recent travels, his plans for the future; Buggy asked about the best places Shanks had been, who he’d met. At Buggy’s request, Shanks devoted a full twenty minutes to a detailed description of his meeting with Rayleigh; to Buggy’s delight, it turned out Rayleigh was in Sabaody because Shakuyaku, the former Amazon empress, lived there. Buggy had always been impressed by her, if a little privately judgy of her taste in men, so hearing that the two of them had semi-retired together made him smile.

As did the revelation that Shanks had first seen a wanted poster for Buggy the Clown—his earliest one, actually, before he’d perfected the crossbones and had still been experimenting with lip tints—when Rayleigh pulled a copy out that day. “He keeps an eye on all the newspapers, from the four big seas and the Grand Line alike,” Shanks explained, digging his toes into the sand. (Buggy had gotten tired of his push-pull relationship with the tides and insisted they move further up the beach.) “I think he’s found and kept a copy of every one of our bounties.”

Buggy tried not to be obvious about how much that meant, but he had never been good at holding back the waterworks when he got emotional. Sniffing thickly, he said, “That stupid old man… your bounty’s gone up so many times over the years without the picture ever looking different! What a waste of his space.”

One of Shanks’ eyebrows went up—probably, Buggy realized a moment later, at the implication that Buggy had also been keeping track of Shanks’ bounties. Ah, well, in for a penny… “Seriously! It’s bad design!” Buggy insisted. “If the only changes someone like me ever noticed are that you grew that shitty little beard—”

“Shitty?” Shanks pouted, running his thumb along his jawline. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s worse without the mustache,” Buggy said bluntly. Shanks played up his shock, gasping and grabbing at his heart like an elderly man.

Buggy rolled his eyes. “As I was saying: if all I ever noticed was the beard and that your hat disappeared at some point, your average citizen’s not going to realize the Marines have released a new poster and the bounty went up!” Jabbing a thumb brazenly at his own face, Buggy said, “At least I had something new going on each time.”

Shanks cocked his head at Buggy. “About that… do you change your makeup style so often for fun, or are you still searching for the perfect look?”

Buggy scoffed. “There’s no such thing as perfection when it comes to art, or fashion,” he said. “There’s just advancing your craft. Every time I change my look up, I’m incorporating newer and flashier techniques, and better supplies. The makeup I had access to fifteen, even ten years ago would never have lasted a day in Impel Down, let alone weeks.”

“That’s true,” Shanks said thoughtfully, hand on his chin. “The stuff you have these days is much—” He cut himself off, glancing over Buggy’s shoulder. Buggy turned to see a cluster of men in ragged prison uniforms standing maybe forty feet away, staring at them and then glancing away awkwardly when they met Buggy’s eye.

“I told them not to bother me today,” Buggy grumbled, giving the group a half-hearted glare. They visibly quaked, knees knocking, but neither moved nor explained themselves.

“I guess our presence is interfering with their shore leave,” Shanks said, slipping back into his sandals.

Looking past the men revealed the beach had gotten crowded while Buggy wasn’t paying attention—save for a fifty-foot ring of emptiness centered on him and Shanks. These men had only approached them because there wasn’t anywhere else to be. Sighing, Buggy stood up, brushing sand off the seat of his pants.

“Lead the way, then,” he said grimly.

With a polite smile and a wave to the former prisoners, Shanks walked back up the beach. Buggy gave them a glare, and a threatening slice-your-throat gesture (made more emphatic by the way Buggy separated his neck as he sliced) to encourage their silence before following Shanks further inland.

The terrain got a bit jungle-like as they went on, but there were neatly trodden paths between the trees. It was a civilized corner of nature, and Buggy found he didn’t mind walking through it with just Shanks and his questions for company, even when those questions started getting a bit specific for Buggy’s tastes. (What did Shanks need to know about his plans after he found Captain John’s treasure, anyway? Was he trying to go after Buggy’s next prize while he was still busy with the current one?)

It was the middle of the lunch hour by the time their jungle path led them back into town, which was almost suspiciously convenient timing. Buggy glanced at Shanks, trying to figure out if he’d planned this or was just aimlessly wandering. Well, either way he’d better lead them somewhere soon—Buggy was hungry! He wanted to eat the kind of food he couldn’t get back on the ship—nothing a typical chef in a typical kitchen could manage. He wanted something that involved a deep fryer, or another equally specialized device. Something that would be too much of a hassle to make on a ship. Something…

“Hey!” Shanks turned to grab Buggy’s attention, pointing at a yatai on the opposite street corner. “What about that?”

Buggy spotted the word written in bold white letters on slate gray cloth and started to laugh. “What are we, on a themed vacation or something?”

“You’re the one who put the idea in my head!” Shanks said defensively, grinning. “I know it’s out of season, but…”

“No, you’re right, we have to,” Buggy said, and led them to the oden-ya. “I’m just going to look like I’m obsessed, is all.”

Ducking under the bamboo noren curtains, they found themselves in a cozy space, with three stools set up along a polished wooden table the same length as the cooktop. A gorilla mink stood behind the partitioned oden pot, rotating skewers of fishcake in their niches within the steaming broth. He glanced up at their entrance, a friendly customer service smile spreading across his face.

“Welcome! Looking for oden this afternoon, or just something to drink?” He gestured to one side, where beautiful little sake flasks and other bottles of alcohol were arranged on shelves that took up the whole side wall of the cart. “I’d be happy to warm a flask of sake up for you on the stove if you’d like.”

“We’re looking for both, thanks,” Shanks said warmly, stepping up to the counter. “I don’t suppose any of your sake is sourced from Wano?”

The mink wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. “I may have some in storage, but that stuff tend to run a little pricier, given… well, if you’re asking for it, you must know.”

“Of course you have expensive tastes in booze and nothing else,” Buggy said with a smirk, bent down to inspect the sake that was actually meant for sale. “Come on, look, they’ve got some West Blue stuff, you were always a sucker for your home ocean.”

“Oh?” Shanks leaned over Buggy to get a better look at the stock, and a prickle of heat went up Buggy’s spine. “Ooh, I do like that stuff. But I really had my heart set on something from Wano…” Turning back to the mink, he said, “Sorry to trouble you, but can you bring out what you have from Wano? I promise the price isn’t an issue, and I won’t have any problem drinking a flask of each.” The mink ducked around back without complaint.

“More like a couple flasks of each,” Buggy muttered, but he didn’t mean it cruelly. Shanks liked a drink, he always had—and rumor said the last time he saw Whitebeard before all this he’d matched him cup for cup. Whitebeard-sized cups, too, which meant he had to have a crazy tolerance these days. Good for him. Buggy wasn’t quite as capable, but he could hold his liquor. He wouldn’t be any kind of ex-Roger Pirate if he couldn’t.

“Guilty,” Shanks said, sing-songy, reaching over Buggy’s shoulder to snatch one of the larger bottles of shochu. “Can you grab a flask or two of the West Blue sake for me?”

Buggy rolled his eyes, grabbing two. “One of them’s for me.”

“We can share,” Shanks said mildly.

Buggy snorted. “If by ‘share’ you mean I get one cup and by the time I’ve finished it the flask is empty, sure, we can share.”

Shanks laughed. “Am I that bad?”

“You’re just too fast about it is all. I like to linger over a drink, really savor it.”

“Oh, you like to take your time, do you?” Shanks’ smile, already suggestively wide, spread wider still when this comment flustered Buggy.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he snapped.

“No?”

Why do you sound disappointed, Buggy was tempted to ask—except no, no he wasn’t, he did not want to know why Shanks might be disappointed Buggy hadn’t intended to be suggestive. He had already decided he wasn’t going there. “I just mean you rush things a bit.”

“…do I?”

Once again feeling like Shanks was reading things into what he was saying, but this time not at all sure what deeper meaning Shanks was taking from his words, Buggy averted his eyes, setting the pair of sake flasks down in front of the stove top. “Yeah, I know you like getting drunk, but there’s such a thing as pacing yourself, you know?”

Before Shanks could respond to this—with who knows what kind of misinterpretation of Buggy’s words this time—the mink returned, a crate of sake in flasks and jugs of various sizes in hand.

“Here we are!” With a soft grunt of effort, the mink set the crate down in front of Shanks. “Let me know if anything catches your eye.” He spotted the flasks of West Blue sake Buggy had set down and quickly made room in a pot of steaming water for them to sit and warm up. “Now, were any items looking especially appealing today?”

Buggy glanced sideways; Shanks was occupied with intently inspecting the sake. Well, if he wanted something specific he could ask for it later. “Two bowlfuls of whatever the chef recommends, for now.”

The gorilla nodded. “Coming right up!” And he was as good as his word, quickly throwing together a wide, shallow bowl of savory golden-brown broth with a skewer of fishcakes, an egg, and a few slices of daikon for each of them. It looked wonderful, warm and familiar, and it smelled even better.

Before Buggy could take a sip, Shanks had flung his arm across Buggy’s chest, blocking the spoonful of broth from reaching his mouth.

“Hang on,” Shanks said, weirdly serious. “You have to have this first.” He held out a small flask of Wano sake, tilted just far enough to encourage Buggy to grab a cup and accept the pour.

“Not warmed up?” Shanks expression didn’t so much as twitch. Buggy huffed. “Fine, fine... you and your expensive tastes.” He accepted the cup, swirled it for a moment to breathe in the aroma—they really did make it different in Wano; was it something in the water, or the rice?—and took a sip. Then blinked, goggled at the half-drunk cup, and slung back the rest with a warm floaty feeling in his chest.

Setting the cup down, he breathed, “Is that...?”

Shanks grinned. “Special pure rice brew.” He spun the flask around to reveal the maker’s mark. “From the Kuri region of Wano.”

Buggy snatched the flask away. Looking it over, he said, “Seriously?! From the same brewery?”

“And you wondered why I was so insistent.”

Buggy shook his head, laughing a little in disbelief, and poured Shanks a cup of the stuff. He glanced up at their host, politely not bothering them even though he had to be confused, and said, “This exact same sake was the first drink the two of us had, back when we were—what, eleven? Twelve?”

“Something like that,” Shanks said, watching Buggy with a pleased smile. “Stolen out of Oden’s rooms on a dare—”

“—you’re the one who dared me!” Buggy snapped. Thinking back, he added, “And he must have let us take it, we weren’t sneaky enough at twelve to get past Oden—”

“—oh, definitely,” Shanks agreed. “Bet he thought of it as a rite of passage, stealing your first drink from under the nose of your honored elders.”

Buggy snorted. “Definitely,” he echoed. Giving Shanks a look, he passed this flask along to the mink as well. “This stuff isn’t so fancy heating it will ruin the taste, right? Might as well try it the way it was meant to be had.”

“Of course,” the mink said with a gracious smile, adding the flask to the steaming pot on his stove. He watched the two of them dig into their bowls—delicious, of course—without comment, but as he carefully retrieved the first of the West Blue flasks from its bath he said, “Now, I haven’t thought about this in a long time, so I’m afraid I can’t quite recall… which of you is Shanks and which is Buggy?”

Buggy blinked dumbly up at the gorilla, his mouth full of radish. Next to him, Shanks was pulling a similar face.

Hastily swallowing his mouthful, Buggy cleared his throat and said, “You know… both of us by name? But not well enough to know which is which on sight?”

The gorilla smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure until you brought up Oden. That’s Kozuki Oden, isn’t it? Which means the two of you must be Shanks and Buggy, they were the only other young people on the boat in all the stories I heard.”

“What stories?”

“‘The only other young people’…” Shanks lit up. “Do you know Dogstorm and Cat Viper?”

Buggy nearly smacked Shanks. “Seriously?! Not every mink knows each other, Shanks!”

“Heh, actually...” Buggy stared up at the gorilla mink in disbelief as he shrugged, making an embarrassed expression. “The truth is, I only learned how to prepare oden at Duke Dogstorm’s request.”

“Duke Dogstorm?” Shanks whistled. “Somebody’s moved up in the world.”

Buggy jabbed him in the side with a free-floating elbow. “I don’t want to hear that from you, Emperor Shanks!”

Shanks winced—an exaggerated gesture for the benefit of their audience—and leaned away from Buggy. “Oh, come on,” he whined, “it’s not like I meant to become an emperor or anything.”

“Oh, of course not,” Buggy said, rolling his eyes and shoving a piece of tsukune in his mouth. Eyes shut, he declared, “I’ll bet I can tell you exactly how it happened, too. You had a meal with some mediocre pirate crew and made friends. Then some shitty Marines started beating the hell out of them; they could’ve just arrested the crew, but they decided to torture them for their own amusement. Well, you could hardly let this abuse go unchallenged, could you? So naturally you had to step in, and sent the Marines running with their tails between their legs. And it was only natural that the pirate crew was thankful to you, but you never dreamed they’d all vow to follow you forever, forswearing their own flag in favor of yours. Not daring to call themselves true Red-Haired Pirates, of course, but Red-Haired Pirates adjacent.” Rolling his wrist, Buggy concluded, “And then that happened another twenty or thirty times, because you never learn.”

Opening one eye a crack, he glanced at Shanks. “How’d I do?”

Shanks, red-faced, his fist pressed to his mouth to hold back laughter, nodded weakly. “Well, uh... you’re not wrong,” he wheezed out. Taking a drink to clear his throat and calm down, he sighed. “Though you make it sound like far more of a foregone conclusion than it felt like when it was first happening.”

“That’s the benefit of an outside perspective,” Buggy said snippily. “And also hindsight.” Waving a hand in Shanks’ face, he said, “But enough about you!” Jabbing the pointer finger of that same hand at their host, Buggy said, “What’s this about you learning to make oden for Dogstorm?”

The gorilla mink smiled, his eyes wide, and Buggy suddenly remembered hearing once that gorillas didn’t actually smile, but instead bared their teeth as a threat against potential enemies. He pulled back his hand as casually as he could manage it.

“Do you really want to hear the story? I’m told I can be a bit long-winded,” the mink said, fishing one of the Wano flasks out of its water bath and offering it up.

“Yeah, let’s hear it!” Buggy said, pouring a cup for Shanks, then handing over the flask so Shanks could do the same for him. “I don’t know about Shanks but I haven’t heard anything from Zou in years, I’m dying to hear what those two have gotten up to.”

Closing his eyes, Buggy took a sip of the warmed Wano sake, not knowing Shanks was doing the same thing at the same time. They set down their cups and sighed in unpracticed unison. Suddenly aware of their double act, Buggy scowled at Shanks, who ignored him and made an encouraging gesture to their chef. “Please, go ahead. I’d love to hear news of Dogstorm and Cat Viper.”

A sad expression washed over the gorilla’s face. “I’m afraid I can only give you news of Duke Dogstorm.” At the looks on his guests’ faces, the gorilla threw out a hand and said, “Not to say—please don’t misunderstand! Lord Cat Viper still lives! It’s just that I have not met with him since he and Duke Dogstorm first returned to Zou. They... keep separate courts, and hours, and my service has always been to the day.”

A wrinkle appeared in Shanks’ brow. “They don’t talk anymore?”

“It always turns into a fight. Often one with devastating consequences for their surroundings.”

Buggy frowned. That didn’t sound right. Well, not the destruction—that sounded like those two—but fighting so badly they couldn’t even share waking hours... “What happened?”

The gorilla sighed. “As I understand it? Kozuki Oden died, and neither could forgive the other for failing to save him.” A moment later, he gave Buggy a concerned look. “Oh, are you hurt?”

Buggy blinked. Staring down at his hands, he realized he’d snapped his chopsticks in half. “I... no, I’m okay.” The gorilla carefully plucked the broken shards of wood out of Buggy’s grasp, along with a splinter or two that had tried to wedge their way into his palms. Thankfully the Chop-Chop fruit could handle any kind of stabbing, from needles up to legendary meito, so Buggy really was fine.

While the gorilla disposed of the pieces of wood, Buggy clenched his jaw, feeling Shanks’ eyes on him. “I can hear you thinking.”

“…it makes sense,” he said quietly. “What else could come between those two but the loss of someone who was as important to them as Oden?”

Buggy shot Shanks a narrow look out of the corner of his eye. “Pretty sure I told you this morning that I was done talking about sad shit,” he warned, and Shanks raised his hand in a placating gesture. The gorilla confirmed that Buggy wasn’t hurt, pointed out the extra chopsticks sitting in a cup to his left, and at their insistence told his story while they returned to their meal.

Dogstorm’s court sounded like a sight worth seeing. Minks of countless animal forms, musketeers and attendants! To think Oden’s retainer had retainers of his own now! And to think that he acted like a guy with such noble dignity, after the way he used to behave.

As the gorilla reached the end of his story—having made the closest thing to oden as could be produced with ingredients native to Zou, with Dogstorm pleased by the effort but quietly unsatisfied by the taste, the gorilla had left the court making a vow to learn the secrets of the oden-preparing arts, promising not to return until he was confident he would be able to put a true smile on the duke’s face—Buggy nudged Shanks in the side. He glanced at Buggy, a half-eaten skewer of fishcakes sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

“Can you believe,” Buggy said with a shit-eating grin, “that the noble, wounded Dogstorm this guy is talking about is the same one who tarred and feathered Mr. Rayleigh?”

Shanks nearly choked before starting to laugh. “How did I forget about that?!”

“I’m sorry, Duke Dogstorm did what?” the gorilla said incredulously, staring between the two of them.

“Wait, wait,” Shanks said, before Buggy could start to tell the story. “If we’re sharing stories of mutual friends, you have to share a drink with us too.” He grabbed a clean cup from a stack to one side and handed it over to the mink. Shanks gave Buggy a pleading look, and with a magnanimous smirk Buggy chop-chopped a hand to swipe another sake flask from the water bath and pour for both of them. “So—”

“Don’t you tell it!” Buggy snapped. With a grin and a wave of his hand, Shanks metaphorically turned over the reins to Buggy, and took the opportunity to return to his sake and his meal. “So,” Buggy said to the mink, “the first thing you need to understand about Dogstorm and Cat Viper is that they acted like respectful little attendants when Oden was around, but when it was just the four of us?” Glancing at Shanks, who was grinning around the skewer in his mouth, Buggy cackled. “They were just as bad as we were.”

Buggy went on to describe the prank in loving detail, alternating bites of fishcake with the reactions of the crew (mostly hysteria, especially from Roger) and the multiple attempts to blame the prank on someone else (Dogstorm nearly succeeded in pinning it all on Buggy, but forgot himself and corrected Rayleigh on where the tar had come from). Shanks followed this up with a reminder of another time the four of them had been absolute nightmares to the crew of the Oro Jackson, and the story Buggy told about that day brought their host to literal tears of laughter.

They went around like this for over an hour, topping off their bowls and drinks all the while, recalling old times with the golden burnish of nostalgia softening the edges, easing the hurts and offenses of youth. Gradually, the last of the fear Buggy had been clinging to all day faded. It was hard to think that your childhood dread mattered much when looked at from so far off, in so fond a way. It was easy to smile at someone who so readily smiled back.

Eventually the broth pooling at the bottom of their bowls grew cold, and the flasks of sake they’d bought ran dry. Not a soul had tried to enter the yatai while they were present, and Buggy felt a fleeting burst of pity for the gorilla’s business… until he saw how well Shanks tipped. With a light heart, Buggy waved a slightly drunken farewell to the mink—he’d paced himself pretty well, but a half-dozen bottles of sake split between two men were still going to have an effect—and ducked back out into the wider world.

The air outside was not exactly cold, but it lacked the cozy warmth of the oden-ya’s atmosphere. It set something within Buggy out of alignment—or maybe back into place? He stood just outside the noren with a hand pressed to his chest, trying to place the feeling, when Shanks made his own exit and nearly ran into him.

The proximity of Shanks at his back, with the last traces of that soup-warmed air drifting in his wake, sent a burst of longing down Buggy’s spine so intense his knees went weak.

Shanks’ hand went to his shoulder. “Careful,” Shanks said, hoisting Buggy fully upright, the flat of his arm firm along the breadth of his back. “You alright, Buggy?”

Fuck. Even though it was the wrong arm, something about Shanks putting an arm over Buggy’s shoulder made his stomach flip and his heart kick into high gear. Stupid, loyal organs didn’t have the sense Buggy’s brain had been given, to recognize that feeling feelings for Shanks was a very bad idea.

“Fine,” Buggy croaked out, taking a few careful steps away from Shanks to confirm he was steady enough to make that lie truth. He shook himself off.

“Your tolerance not what it used to be?” Shanks teased.

“My tolerance is normal,” Buggy insisted, not looking back at Shanks. “Yours, on the other hand...”

“Yeah, unlike you I’m actually fine,” Shanks said, picking up his pace to match Buggy’s stride. Glancing around, his back straightened involuntarily with recognition. Nudging Buggy’s shoulder with his own, he said, “Here, there’s a park nearby where we won’t be bothered. We can sit down, let you sober up a little before heading back to the ship.”

Buggy drifted in Shanks’ wake on some old instinct. It was only mid-afternoon. “There wasn’t anything else you wanted to do?”

Shanks glanced at Buggy over his shoulder. “What?”

“I dunno, some... sight you thought I should see, or a shop you like or something?”

Shanks blinked. “Buggy, I’ve never been to this island before. I asked the locals for recommendations yesterday so I could have a good time with you.”

Buggy’s face went hot. “You—stop saying shit like that! Don’t you know how that sounds?”

“How it sounds?” Shanks echoed. He led Buggy through a tall, metal gate, into a walled-off plot of land with very little to it, just rock-paved paths, plaques underneath oddly colored trees, and the occasional bench. Closing the gate behind them, he spun on Buggy. “How does it sound?”

Buggy scowled and stormed past him. Like Shanks didn’t know.

“If it sounds like I’ve missed you—well, sorry, Buggy, but I have. I thought I’d been pretty obvious about that.” When Buggy turned an incredulous look on Shanks, the corner of his mouth turned up, amused. “Obvious to everyone but you, I guess.”

“You—you didn’t miss me,” Buggy said, insistent. “You missed—” he gestured vaguely between the two of them. “—someone knowing you, without you having to say anything. You missed having a history with someone.”

Shanks shook his head. “I would love to see many people from back then again, but I’ve never missed any of them like I did you.”

“Oh, come on!” Buggy spat, “what was there to miss? A greedy little brat who couldn’t decide if he hated you more than he was jealous of you? A coward who ran and hid from every fight?” The memory of Shanks leaning in close, a hand on his face, shot through Buggy. Resisting another stab of longing, he blurted out, “Some stranger’s pretty face?”

“I missed my best—” Shanks’ face screwed up in confusion. “A pretty face?”

Buggy hadn’t meant to say that. He grimaced. “You know.” Swiping a hand across his face, he chop-chopped his nose off for a moment, hiding the gap behind his free hand. “This one, that you liked so much that time.”

Understanding lit up Shanks’ face. “Oh, the gorgeous stranger with stunning eyes.” A sheepish expression coming over him, Shanks looked away, askance. “Can I tell you something embarrassing?”

Buggy blinked. Not the response he’d expected. “Uh, sure?”

“I only thought those eyes were so stunning because they reminded me of yours.”

Buggy’s jaw dropped. “The hell they did!”

“They did!” Shoving his hand over his eyes, Shanks smiled self-consciously. “Oh, I felt so ridiculous later. That poor guy, I thought, was deserving of more than my secondhand affections.” Dropping his hand to look at Buggy, he said, “Though that’s nothing compared to how ridiculous I felt the other day.”

Buggy swallowed, mouth dry.

“I’m sorry, Buggy,” Shanks said after a long, silent moment. “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Buggy blinked.

Well. Of course he wouldn’t have. That went without saying.

He stepped back. “I know that.”

“You do?” Shanks frowned. “I… good.” Shoulders hunched, he turned to peer down at a plaque mounted beneath a pink-leafed bush. “That’s good. I don’t want there to be any more misunderstandings between us.”

“What’s there to misunderstand?” Buggy spotted a bench and sat down. He immediately felt clearer-headed. Maybe Shanks was right about his tolerance. “I get it. You kiss strangers, not old friends.”

Shanks paused mid-step. “Are you…” He spun to frown at Buggy. “Are you deliberately misunderstanding me?”

“Hm?” Buggy had just gotten comfortable, hiking one knee over the bench’s arm. What was Shanks talking about now?

“Buggy.”

Buggy craned his head back to look up at Shanks. He looked tall from this angle, and taller still when he leaned over Buggy, resting his hand on the back of the bench. Shanks’ expression was unreadable, but intense. Buggy’s mouth felt dry again. Oh, this was bad.

“I was not apologizing for kissing you. I was apologizing for kissing you wrong.”

“Kissing me wrong?” Buggy echoed bewilderedly.

“If I’d known that stranger was you, I still would have kissed you, if you’d let me,” Shanks said bluntly. “I’d kiss you now, if you’d let me. But it wouldn’t be like that kiss, it would be different.”

Buggy blinked, dumbfounded.

Shanks… wanted to kiss him.

Not the stranger he’d taken him for back then, but Buggy himself.

Had wanted to kiss Buggy then.

Still wanted to kiss Buggy now.

Would kiss him in a different way from a stranger.

“Different how?” Buggy croaked out.

For a long, agonizing moment, Shanks stared blankly at Buggy. A furious heat rushed into Buggy’s face—there was no way to take a sentence like that back. He couldn’t pretend it was simple curiosity. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t eager to be kissed.

Slowly, Shanks grinned, infuriatingly smug. “Would you like me to show you?”

#notfic #the near miss fics #one piece #shuggy #shanks #buggy #cackling to myself as i hit post on this bad boy

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writtenbynath · 1 year

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The problem with Nimja teaching hypnokink at an event

He has been a known predator in our community for years now. You can just google his name and the word 'abuse' and you can find a whole page of stories from victims and people who have had run ins with him. Any event organiser who has never heard of these stories by now, we can safely assume that they have not done the research, or they are just ok with hosting a charismatic predator who brings all his fans to the event.

You might think that's a little harsh of me. But women talk about these things to each other, and that's how I have heard so many stories of little interactions where the woman in question concluded that Nimja was a creep she should watch out for. Literally countless stories like this keep being shared by women online and I hear more of them every time I speak up about his abuse.

Sometimes I hear a story of real abuse like this. A story of a young woman who really fell in love with Nimja, because being hypnotised is just likely to give you crushy in love feelings sometimes, and because of the flavour of D/s play he tends to do. These women were in love, very impressed by all his files and tremendously honoured that he would take time to play or record a file with them. And when it went sideways, he'd just abandon them, no aftercare, no trigger removal, sometimes he'd even forbid them to contact him again. These young women had to handle the shame of being conditioned online by this man and not knowing how to get his commands out of their heads alone.

In 2019 a woman gave me permission to share her story, the other six victims are too afraid of Nimja and don't want to share any details. This woman played with him online with D/s and orgasm control. This went so far that she couldn't even go to the bathroom without listening to one of his files. She needed his voice, his permission, to simply be able to pee. And he cut her off at that moment. She literally told me that he punished her when she tried to contact him because she wanted it to stop, she needed it to stop. So she had to find another way of getting his triggers and commands out of her head, of getting her life back together. The other stories are a lot like this one, and yes, they are recent.

Because of these stories centering on online play with him, some people don't take it very seriously. Perhaps including Nimja. It's hard to explain how much impact hypnokink can have on your life, especially when it comes to files and conditioning. It's hard to explain how difficult things get when you have to listen to a file multiple times per day or you'll start to feel awful. It's hard to explain how much shame and pain that causes, because it's not like a physical addiction, is it? You can just stop, right?

I'm worried that Nimja underestimates the impact he has on the women he plays with. It seems like he's just going to continue playing with more women like this. He just a guy who doesn't think he's doing anything wrong, and he gets older just like the rest of us, but it seems like he keeps playing with these really young women. And maybe he's not consciously looking for girls who don't know how hypnokink works yet, and who don't know what they want out of kink yet. Maybe it's not on purpose. That's possible. Right?

But the predatory pattern is there. The cult of personality discord server full of fans who enable his bad behaviour is there. So that's a problem. And I honestly don't know if he teaches hypnokink in a way I'd encourage. He's teaching at an event in Germany and in Wales where I really respect some of the other teachers. But I think every impressionable young woman at those events is at risk of being hurt in the exact same way described above.

#nimja #hypnokink #safety #hypnocommunity

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 1 year

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Not Like This | Valeria Garza x Fem!Reader

Note: A literal brain fart that I unexpectedly wrote in the afternoon after listening to girl in red today. Angst is seriously the only thing I can produce and feel good about somehow, like what the hell. I should bring this up in therapy next time. I didn't do much research for the fic so lots of stuff is just pulled out of my ass. Get ready for some typical cliché "dying-in-one's-arms" story. Feat. some random google translated Spanish sentences.

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Character Death, Angst, Unrequited Love, Just Pain, Blood, Ghost made an oopsie

Summary: You wanted to touch and kiss her but not like this...

Word Count: 2,6k

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

"You don't have to do this!"

You practically beg but she just looks at you with that gaze, the one which says that she won't change her mind, no matter what.

She had held the same gaze when she informed you about her decision to take over the cartel and abandon your brothers and sisters in arms.

She is already in too deep at this point. You both know.

You had known for years since the moment when she took Pascale's hand and danced with him in that god-forsaken club.

He enticed her with an idea and she created El Sin Nombre. And it's all your fault. When you dumped that barrel with the son of La Araña in the river, you thought you had done the right thing and you turned your back on Alejandro and the others.

You watch her, her face is full of determination; it's almost like she's looking through you instead of at you, too captivated by her thoughts.

"It's for us. That deal will make sure our families and the ones after us won't ever grow up and live like we did."

"It wasn't that bad! And compared to how many people will suffer because of that man-"

"Not that bad? Y/N, we drank rainwater while my dead mother rotted in the bedroom! I had to stop Feliz from eating her! Your legs are like this because we didn't have access to proper medical care even in the military! We both suffered so much... But like this... With the authority I have now, these days are nothing but a bad dream! We have established schools and hospitals, and with this money, we'll help even more people!"

Your heart stings when she mentions your disability and the hand grasping your cane burns. She's right. You had suffered. But that was in the past. And compared to the suffering that this terrorist and his organization would bring upon the world...

You couldn't even look the people on the streets of Las Almas in the eyes anymore, how could you bear the weight of responsibility for the horrible crimes of that man?

Maybe you shouldn't have taken her hand when you were discharged from the military due to your increasing leg pain and weeks later she had shown up in front of your doorstep to take you into the hands of the cartel.

"He and those missiles will kill people, dozens of them! Innocent families, brothers, and sisters, little girls like Emilia... Valeria, please- Don't do this. The people hunting him will hunt you too. The Los Vaqueros, Alejandro-"

"We already made the deal. There are no takebacks, Y/N." There's no escape.

You stare at her. The ache in your chest that has been buried deep for years now, grows stronger.

You almost don't recognize her.

She's not the girl who took your first kiss at the age of 7. She's not the best friend you had since childhood. Not the teenager who made out with you when she was drunk at 17 and then didn't remember. Not the one who motivated you to follow your dream of joining the high school basketball team. Not the one who mesmerized you with her naturally glowing character who drew you in like a moth to a flame.

And yet...

You still love her.

And what could you do? You're already in too deep.

Years ago you decided to follow her until your feet couldn't carry you anymore.

You're a fool for her and if she decides to walk straight into hell, even then you will follow her.

You smile bitterly. She takes a step forward and grabs your right hand, her eyes staring straight into yours. Your heart flutters as always. The bitterness in your heart grows.

"You're my best friend Y/N, mi hermana. You know I'm doing this for us. Para tiempos más brillantes."

She doesn't see the tears threatening to fall from your eyes when she embraces you and you quietly sob into her arms. She holds you close and yet you've never felt farther away from her.

"para tiempos más brillantes" you whisper in her shoulder and for you these words are like a prayer, begging God or whoever to forgive you for your foolish heart and your foolish love.

A few days later you arrive in a black SUV for the cartel meeting.

The atmosphere in the house is already strange when you enter with Valeria. Diego greets you with a kiss on the back of your hand like always and once again you discreetly wipe your hand on your dress.

You hate participating in those meetings but to the cartel you're like a symbol, a symbol for the wealth and power that one can gain with the help of the cartel. So it's expected that you attend. And she likes it when you're with her.

You feel like a doll in that expensive dress Valeria gifted you. It's a light blue backless dress and compliments your shape.

She gave you this one with her typical words about wanting to make you feel good about yourself but you neither feel pretty nor good; the slit on the side shows off the scars on your leg and with your cane you give the image of a circus actor instead of a rich woman.

"You can rest upstairs", Valeria tells you and pats your shoulder and one of Diego's underlings wearing a black mask steps forward to accompany you.

"I'll see you in a bit."

"Yeah", you mumble and follow the guy. He tries to be discreet but you notice him looking at your feet right away and you huff inwardly. Yeah, she couldn't gift me expensive high heels unfortunately.

You're wearing flats because anything with heels hurt not only your feet but your legs as well.

On the highest floor you pour yourself a drink and sit on one of the chairs at the long round table.

You stare at the ice cubes in your class and watch as they slowly melt. Time ticks by and Valeria is nowhere to be seen.

It's pathetic how you wait for her like a puppy. But it's always been like this. She goes somewhere, you follow. When she's away, you wait for her, the only company your anxiety and worries.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.

The atmosphere has been weird before but when the guard tells you in a breathless voice that he will be right back, you know something is definitely off.

You're not on the comms and you don't have a weapon, you never bring one to these events because it "ruins your outfits".

But you don't have to worry much because right when you think about grabbing a kitchen knife just in case, Valeria and her lackeys storm through the door.

She's armed - unlike when you two entered the house. You immediately know something went wrong.

"Y/N", she says, her tone cold and you stand up quickly, "go on the terrace for a bit."

You blink perplexed. "What? Why?"

She gives you a look as she grabs the phone one of her men holds up for her.

"Solo hazlo!"

You continue to stare for a few seconds, but she turns away, not looking at you.

"Yes, El Sin Nombre" you sigh eventually. A guard offers you a gun and you take it silently.

You walk to the back of the room and leave through the door, the gazes of Valeria's guards burn on your naked back.

You sit on one of the loungers, letting your cane and gun rest by your side and you stare at the darkening sky. You know who she's calling in there and the guilt plagues your mind.

How did you two end up like this? This isn't the future you imagined for yourself.

Yes, you wanted to be by her side but not like this.

The 16-year old Y/N L/N didn't see herself as the closest confidant of a drug cartel boss. Your younger self didn't see herself involved with corruption and the distribution of narcotics. You didn't see yourself lying next to her, back to back, in a bed with a pistol under the pillow.

In your ideal future you would lay in her arms in a cozy bed in a house with room for you two and your family, her sister Emilia, your grandparents, maybe even a dog like Feliz. Just you, the love of your life and your family.

No guns, no drugs, just a happy life, satisfied with what you have.

But you know better. That dream will never come true. Valeria loves you, always has, but not like you love her. You'll never be more than her best friend.

And even if she saw you in a different light, your dream can never come true. The things you both have done in your past will haunt you.

You know it's only a matter of time until the USA will hunt you and the other drug cartels down. They'll purge everything they can get a sniff of. And then El Sin Nombre will pay the price. But you'll be right beside her.

"At least we can be together in prison", you say to no one in particular, a bitter smile on your lips.

You stroke the frayed strap of the bracelet Valeria had gifted you all those years ago in high school. Memories come up but they're interrupted by a low hum. Confused you turn your head, searching the sky when a loud bang and sudden gunshots ring out in the house.

In the blink of an eye you're on your feet, gun in hand with the safety off, your cane disregarded.

You hurry to the door right when it gets slammed open and Valeria runs into you. Shocked you lower your hands, mierda you almost shot her!

"Y/N!", she shouts, grabbing you by your arm. "We have to move!"

She pulls you with her but the low hum has turned into growling and the roar of spinning rotors accompanies the black helicopter who suddenly hovers over the house. You're trapped.

"Down! Get down, now!", someone in the helicopter shouts and god, you're so stupid but she's in danger and without a second thought you shoot at the man standing at the open in the helicopter, while trying to cover her with your body.

"Y/N!"

A lot happens in mere seconds. The man at the helicopter door ducks inside, the other soldiers scream and point their guns at you and you shoot once more when someone shoves you and the force sends you to your knees.

"Cease Fire, Immediately!!"

Shouts echo around you, two more men run on the terrace, rifle and gun pointing at you but you don't care.

You turn and stare at her and she looks you in the eyes. The brown is basically black in the dusk. The corners of her lips twitch as if she wants to smile. You notice the rapidly growing spot on her grey shirt, underneath her necklace on the left side.

You scream and she hugs you, forcing her whole body weight on you. You crumble completely to the ground, holding her close, one hand still clutching the gun.

"Target is hit- I repeat target is hit! Ghost what the fu-"

"Don't shoot! I know that woman!"

Y/N she whispers. She's not moving her lips but you know she called you. You stare into her eyes as she gasps for air.

"Ria, I got you- It's okay- I got you, I-"

You drop the gun and press onto the wound from the back. Your hands turn slippery from her blood.

One of the men walks up to you and kicks your gun away from your reach and as he hovered over you, you pull her closer, shielding her with your upper body.

No, no. This can't be happening!

Your heart beat resounds loudly in your ears, it drowns out the helicopter noise and the shouting soldiers. You feel naseous from the surging helplessness you feel. Until you hear a certain voice. It's familiar.

"Y/N, hey! It's me, Alejandro. Let me have a look at her, please."

Alejandro?

You lift your head, still holding eye contact with her. Her eyes are wide, shocked probably at the sudden development. You gulp but bile still rises in your throat.

Hands grab you, but they're not forceful and you straighten your upper body to give Alejandro the chance to look at her in your arms. You look at him, begging him to do something, to help- save her.

"...dro", she wheezes and he smiles but his raised eyebrows give his worry away.

"Valeria."

He reaches for her back where you hold her and when his hand finds yours, his face darkens. He stands up and turns towards the helicopter and waves at the blonde man inside, his red hand glistening.

"We need a medic now!"

The sentence flings you into the past.

"Necesito evacuación m��dica para Y/N!! Gómez, hijo de puta, call it in now!!"

Gunshots whizz past you two but Valeria doesn't care.

She puts more pressure on your legs and you just watch how her expression stirs from worry to determination.

You adore that face so much. Her sharp eyebrows, the straight bridge of her nose, her long eyelashes, the lines when she smiles. She's your own personal Aphrodite.

"...s beautiful..."

She looks at you scowling. "Shut up, Y/N! Don't go all woozy on me now! We'll get you out of here and you'll be just fine, okay?!"

You smile. Of course. You'll be just fine. After all, she's by your side.

"..can't do anything for her..."

You blink. The words pull you out of your distant memory. She's holding onto you, you realize belatedly. Her fingers dig into your skin but her grip is weak, too weak.

The two soldiers who got in front of you and checked her body retreat. You open your move to say something but she touches your face to get your attention.

"Y/N..."

She pulls you down, while moving her lips as if she wants to whisper something to you. Your chest painfully constricts.

Instead your lips meet. Someone says something but you don't hear them, too shocked by the sudden kiss.

It's more like a peck and it tastes like the alcohol you drank before but your chest almost explodes.

"D-Don't do that, Ria", you croak. The nickname is like poison on your lips.

She smiles. And kisses you again. Longer this time. You taste salt.

"Not like this- I don't want it like this! I haven't even- me cago en la puta, Valeria Martina Garza, you-"

You cover her hands with yours, smearing her blood on them as you grip her fingers tight, holding on like she's your lifeline. Your foreheads touch. The pain in your chest is tearing you apart. You feel like dying.

"Para tiem...pos más brillantes...", she whispers breathlessly and you sob, showering her face with kisses while cradling her in your arms. She huffs as if she's protesting.

"Don't fucking say that! Yo no puedo vivir sin ti!! I love you, Ria, I-"

The smile is still on her lips when her body goes limp in your arms. Your chest constricts as you breathe in shakily.

Tears fall and you rock her in your arms, holding the only one who ever mattered in your life in your arms and you scream, the pain in your chest never stopping.

How can I wish for better times when you're not with me?!

"Y/N L/N, what do you know about El Sin Nombre?"

"Ella era mi alma gemela. I'll tell you everything."

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harlowcomehome · 2 years

Text

“We came all this way to lose.”

Part two: here

You had met Jack a few years ago and in such an organic way that you didn’t see him the way so many other girls did. Truthfully, that’s what made you so interesting to him. You didn’t look at him like he walked on water, you talked to him and treated him like a “normal” person and that’s what intrigued him and drew him to you.

You were working a regular full-time retail job, not knowing that the person you had been helping was a famous rapper the entire time. You noticed immediately that he was attractive, you would never deny that but you talked to him like you would anyone else.

“Let me know if I can help you find anything else” you smiled as he and Urban (who you didn’t know at the time either) sorted through racks. Both men flashing you a smile as you walked back to the front of the store.

You immediately noticed everyone else you worked with being incredibly odd and noticed the other lead manager locking the doors so nobody else could come in.

“What’s going on?” You whispered to her and she laughed.

“You don’t recognize him?” You peeked down the isle that he and Urban were in and you looked back at her.

“No?” She shook her head before pulling up pictures of him on google.

You smiled “he looks so different in person.”

She read your expression “you seriously don’t know who he is do you?”

You giggled and shrugged, looking up to see that Jack was approaching you.

“Do you mind if we try some stuff on?” He kept eye contact with you, you felt your entire body heat up. You nodded and he followed you to the back, where you dropped the keys nervously before eventually unlocking a room for both Jack and Urban to try things on.

They had been back there a while so your manager nudged for you to go make sure that everything was okay, and the conversation you walked in on wasn’t what you expected at all.

You truthfully listened longer than you should’ve.

“You can tell she has no idea, just ask her” Urban laughed and Jack told him to keep his voice down but it was too late. Urban had noticed you were standing there and his face turned bright red, clearing his throat to alert Jack.

Jack who was normally good at keeping it all together especially in front of women was now the color of a cherry tomato and you couldn’t help but think it made him cuter than before.

You smiled trying to pretend not to notice the exchange “I just- well I wanted to know if you needed my help with anything?”

Jack couldn’t speak and just shook his head, you smiled at him and Urban, walking out of the fitting room to Urban laughing out loud.

You walked back up to the register, a smile plastered all over your face.

“You think he’s cute? Don’t you?” Your coworker teased.

You shrugged.

“He is your type” she smiled and you gasped.

“I have a type?” She nodded and you smiled, noticing that both Jack and Urban were walking back up to the register with all of the clothes in their hands.

“Everything huh?” You teased, trying to ease the awkward tension from what happened earlier.

Jack who hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath, let out a sigh of relief “ yeah, I’ll always take the advice of a pretty girl” he smiled, and you did too.

You made small talk the rest of the transaction, and handed him and Urban their bags when you were done.

You had noticed Jack kept his eyes on you the entire time, but you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t anything serious.

Urban took Jacks bag from him and nodded to him before walking toward the door alone.

“Do you have plans tomorrow night?” Jack smiled and you could feel your heart beating faster and faster.

“I- I mean-“ you stuttered and he smiled “good.” He pressed down on your receipt printer and ripped off a piece of paper, writing a number down.

“Call this number tomorrow” he smiled and looked at your name tag “I’ll make sure to tell them Y/N is calling.”

He smiled and started to walk away before you had the chance to respond.

“Wait, what’s your name?” You giggled and he shouted it at you “Jack!” all before he ran to catch up with his friend that had left moments earlier.

You remember thinking that was the smoothest thing in the world, being told later by Jack that he practically had an anxiety attack in the parking lot just moments later, worried you thought it was corny and not attractive.

The next day, you waited until the evening to call, not wanting to seem eager.

The voice of another woman picked up, which caused you to want to hang up immediately.

“Wait, is this Y/N?” The woman replied and you just responded with “Mhmm.”

She held back a laugh “I’m Jacks manager, we have a ticket for you if you want to come to the show tonight.”

You felt a wave of relief come over you, and she felt it too, the both of you sharing a laugh over the phone.

You arrived at the venue, worried you were overdressed, but you weren’t really sure what to expect and you just wanted to look your best.

Neelam, Jacks manager met you at the box office and walked with you inside. Jack wasn’t that big at the time, meaning he was an opener tonight and he was about to go on.

You had made perfect timing, and you were honestly excited to see him in what you assumed would be his element. You noticed his friend from yesterday immediately and stood beside him “Urban” he said with a smile as he shook your hand, “Y/N.”

The two of you stood in a somewhat comfortable silence before Jack started to perform.

You realized quickly that Urban also took photos of Jacks performances, “ do you do that for every show?”

Urban shrugged “usually.”

When Jack was done performing he walked over to you, beads of sweat dripping off his forehead.

“What did you think?” He smiled, hoping you’d have something positive to say but instead you shrugged “I think? I think you’re really sweaty.”

He laughed to himself, walking over to a small vanity in the back with his things sprawled across it.

You followed him over to it, “I mean, honestly?” He looked at you, like he was about to pass out, still waiting on you to say something positive about his performance.

“I think you’re really good” you giggled, playfully hitting his arm.

“My mom always told me not to fill a mans head up with too many compliments or he’ll be full of hot air” you giggled and he laughed too.

“Is that a thing? Like a real saying?” You both continued to laugh together and you shrugged. “ I honestly, have no idea.”

You heard the roar of the main performer go on stage, you peeked around the corner and Jack watched you with a smile, “do you want to stay and watch?”

You bit your lip, out of nervous habit and looked over at him “I want to do whatever you want to do.”

He smiled “do you want to go get something to eat?”

You nodded “that sounds good.” Jack grabbed your hand and made sure Neelam and Urban were distracted before you bolted out of the back exit.

You didn’t let go of Jacks hand, letting him lead the way into the back parking lot.

“Won’t your manager and friend wonder where we went?” You giggled as you got into the passenger side of the car. He shook his head “they’ll be fine.”

He started the car and the two of you giggled, something about this just felt euphoric and fun, and so out of your comfort zone.

Jack pulled up to a small local pizza place you had been to several times before, you smiled as the two of you got out of the car.

“Normally this place is way busier” you said surprised and Jack smiled “most people are at the show.” You nodded and followed him inside, eventually sitting down at a booth across from one another and just talking for hours. It wasn’t until you heard his phone go off that you realized how long you two had been away from the venue.

“Shit” he whispered to himself and you smiled “did I get you in trouble?”

He smirked at you “something tells me this wont be the only time, pretty lady.”

He was right, he usually was and you always hated that.

After that night, Jack continued his tour, the two of you talking every day either over text or FaceTime. He constantly begged you to come to another show, knowing that you couldn’t but still hoping you’d try to.

When tour was over, just three months later, he promised to come see you and he kept that promise.

He spent more time in your hometown than he anticipated but something about you made him feel comfortable, normal and safe. There was no denying that he was becoming more and more popular but that didn’t matter much to you, he was still just Jack. Jack who got embarrassed easily, who laughed too loud in public, and Jack who easily became your best friend within a matter of months.

“Are you sure you have to go home tomorrow?” You sighed, as you laid on his chest.

He smiled “Why? You going to miss me or something?”

You smiled softly, not able to form words. He looked down at you, noticing your eyes were closed tightly “are you tired?” It was then he noticed a single tear rolling down your cheek.

“Did I say something wrong?”

You sniffled, sitting up beside him “I’m just going to miss you, like a lot.”

You laughed, feeling foolish for becoming attached so quickly.

“Don’t cry” Jack scooted closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. “You can always come with me?”

His suggestion made you freeze, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you were just surprised to hear him say it.

“And stay where?” You sniffled, the reality hitting you immediately “and what would I do for work?”

Jack smiled “I have my own place, it’s a lot bigger than you parents place. And, when I say I have a place I mean Urban and I have a place and you can stay there with us.”

You nodded “but what would I do for work Jack, I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me, thats not fair to you.” Jack paused, truthfully he hadn’t thought that far ahead, he would’ve taken care of you if he could but financially that wasn’t an option even if your stubborn self would let him actually do it.

His silence made you second guess yourself, assuming he regretted even saying it. You stood up and wiped your eyes “it’s fine Jack, maybe we should call it a night and I’ll just see you next time you’re in-“ he kissed you to stop you from finishing that thought.

“Give me a month, just one month and I’ll figure it out” he made sure to keep eye contact with you. You nodded, falling asleep on him for the last time until you moved to Atlanta.

You remember thinking to yourself how insane this was, it was never in your character to be so impulsive but something about Jack was different, and you felt safe doing anything with him. You had no idea how hard it was going to be for you to live with two messy guys, but although you would get annoyed you loved them both.

You ended up working closely with Neelam, essentially being an assistant manager and helping with other clients so her main focus could be Jack. You didn’t mind the distraction, it gave you and Jack enough space but kept you close at the same time.

There was no denying that Jack was continuously getting the recognition he deserved, and you were there every step of the way, even if it was in the shadows. You didn’t mind it, you understood quickly that was the best thing for Jack to do. You didn’t mind having to share him either, you knew who he came home to and he never gave you a reason to feel insecure about that.

It wasn’t until TWTAS was being recorded, that you felt the shift in your relationship. Jack was more forgetful, less present. He had forgotten your birthday, and all the traditions you usually did when it came around. To say you were sad would be an understatement, you had moved away from your family and friends to start a life with him, making him and everyone around you a “second” family of sorts. So that hurt, but he always made up for it in someway so you tried not to complain too much.

You chopped it up to Jack being busier, he was needed more, he was important now. He was constantly being pulled in several different directions, so you just assumed he was tired, and having a debut album deadline didn’t help.

You had been in denial for a while now, assuming that one day things would just be okay again. You thought maybe after the album dropped things would be okay, and when they weren’t you knew it was serious. You had several conversations with Jack about the future of your relationship, you wanted to get married, and maybe have some kids but most of the conversations ended the same way.

“So much is unknown right now, let’s just go with the flow” was said to you so many times now that you felt like that phrase was practically tattooed across your forehead.

Jack had eventually become cold, and distracted. It wasn’t intentional and you knew that but you couldn’t continue to put your own feelings on the back burner while he lived out his dreams, it had been eating you alive.

Jack was walking around the house you shared together in a panic, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“What’s going on?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“I have that award show tonight, and I can’t find my shoes” he sighed. “Do you know where they are?” You shrugged, earning a sigh from your now very annoyed boyfriend.

“Why are you so touchy? I thought the awards were on the 21st anyway?” You said feeling defeated. Jack looked over at you confused “is today not the 21st?”

You shook your head “nope, it’s the 19th.”

He sighed as he sat down on the couch “I haven’t had a second to breathe lately, I’m sorry.”

His apologies came more frequently these days, and you normally accepted them and tried to move on but today you couldn’t do that.

“Can we talk?” You sighed, sitting beside him on the couch.

He groaned “That sounds like what people say when they want to break up.” You stayed silent, not knowing how to react.

He noticed the change in your demeanor when he said that, and he sat up straight “wait, do you want to break up?”

“I don’t want to break up but-“ before you could continue he talked over you.

“I need you though, you’re going to do this to me now, at my most delicate moment? You’re not thinking about how I feel, you’re only thinking about yourself.”

You had never been so angry, was he essentially calling you selfish? You couldn’t wrap your head around why he’d even escalate to that so quickly.

“Can you let me talk?” You sighed, holding back tears.

Jack was silent, trying his best not to cry. His hands were shaky, so he put them inside his hoodie to hide them from you from noticing.

“Why would you want to break up? What am I not giving you? Tell me how I could possibly do better?”

You sensed a tone of anger coming from him, which wasn’t expected. He usually handled things calm, you were usually the firecracker and to see the roles reversed was disheartening.

“I just feel like things between us have been different, for a long time now.” Your voice was trembling. “I don’t want to be the one to hold you back Jack. You know I’d never do that to you.” You sniffled, as you watched the man you loved and adored heart break in front of you.

“You don’t hold me back Y/N, why would you say that?” His lips were trembling, and his voice shook.

“I can see the change in you” you sighed “and in us, can’t you?”

“Just tell me you don’t love me anymore” his voice was more stern, less shaky now and you could tell he was getting angry by the flush in his face.

“Jack, it’s not that I don’t love you anymore, I do it’s just that-“

“I don’t love you anymore” That once sweet southern drawl metaphorically stabbing you like a knife.

You hadn’t mentally prepared to hear those words, you felt like time stood still in that very moment. The entire room was silent, you felt every emotion at once. Your vision was blurry, your chest tightened, you couldn’t breathe and your heart was physically breaking.

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone yet again. This great big house feeling even bigger and lonelier than ever before.

#Jack Harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #Jack Harlow fan fiction #Jack Harlow x reader #Jack Harlow Angst

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bluiex · 9 months

Note

i put it in google docs to check the word count it’s a bit over 1000 words so that’s fun, but without further ado, i present:

funny things i have read in smut:

“Then he hit the bundle of nerves that fanfic readers are all too familiar with.”

“Luckily he is also a slippery motherfucker.”

“inexperienced in the art of giving giant people hand jobs.”

“Getting cock blocked my a church!”

“I’m not a food (name)”

“unsure why (name) was treating him like he was at the dentist”

“Also when they arrived (name) threw a plushie at them, hitting (name) square in the face.”

“I-uh I wh-uhm I”

“Breed! Breed! Breed! Mate! Mate! Mate!”

“(name) smiled “sure just don’t kill me””

“(name) would probably just scold them and then offer some advice and (name) would probably just laugh and offer to punch (name)’s stomach or some bullshit. “

“She then sauntered her way back to the over-eager man laying in an idiotic position on the bed, probably trying to be mock-seductive.”

“"What? Don't you like what you see?"”

“he let out a shaky breath and stood up straight(gay)”

“(name) finds out where all the missing orphans went, and no, it’s not Technoblade.”

“(very unimaginative for a nonhuman, what were his parents thinking?)”

“it was at that moment that (name) had internally asked himself three questions: am I really considering sex with a dragon? Is this really what my life has come to? Dragon fucking?”

“" Sorry gang I have to take the fattest piss in the whole year."”

“"I just don't think you are gonna be screaming pickles in the middle of fucking-"”

“Angry at (name) for even having the audacity to be alive and breathing.”

““Look, I’m your chambermaid not your chambertherapist,””

““I saw a man purchasing cocaine from another man.” He mentioned offhandedly.”

“"Fuck you" he responded, lowering himself to lay on the monsters chest and stomach.

'That's what your doing'”

“Author: Am eating cucumber”

“(name” smirked with delight, reaching down to poke at his cloaca”

“he got so many new experiences (yes, even beans on toast)”

“”did you just.. call me dude in a romantic way?”

““Were you expecting me to say ‘it’s dishonourable to attack when not ready!’?””

“(names) hands are shaking so much that he might actually shoot one of them in the foot. Which would seriously kill the mood.”

“Is he not also deserving of being a sexy pirate with huge tits?”

“He doesn’t know what he’ll do if (name) pulls away and starts talking again. Cry, probably.”

“sorry i was possessed by an evil spirit called homosexuality writing this”

“im normal *paces around my cage*”

“i need to fuck this himbo.”

“am I saying that gay sex is the solution to relationship problems? Absolutel- *dies*”

“and precisely nothing changes between Pearl and Scott.”

“the real fantasy here is having a shower that's big enough for more than one person lmao”

“not like he was thinking of boneing (name) or (name) anytime soon.”

“(name) has eaten (name) out (wow that's really a sentence I just typed)”

“Tea anon *shakes you like a maraca*”

“because holy hell (name) has got to have some absolutely incredible thighs”

“I know that we all universally agree that (name) has the biggest dick on the server”

“I just think they should fuck and it would solve all their problems. Or make them worse, but at least they’d have fucked <3”

““tiddies plz? May I have a face full of them?””

“(especially after he's been fucked into the next century by her-)”

“When he is satisfyied and (name) is a right mess and a little hard- (name) just leaves lmao”

“You have my utmost respect and love person who suggested it I will give you a handshake”

“Hi I have a headache the size of Texas but that doesn’t stop the Headcanons from plaguing me like visions.”

“(name) just walkin around butt ass naked, dick out :sobs: /pos”

“getting the fucked and bred into the next century-“

“"he's a fucking dumbass jesus christ i want to bear his children"”

“(name) lingered, because he was a simple man, and couldn’t turn down a chance to look at (name)’s ass. In his defence, it was not a bad choice. Man.”

“Not that burying his face in (name)’s tits was a bad time,”

“(name) slurred out a grumbling complaint, so far from any word that (name) was almost impressed.”

“(name), I am going to set you on fire, please.”

“(name) raised his eyebrows at (name)’ choice to not wear underwear. The man was truly feral sometimes.”

“This goes even harder (hehe)”

“Why do school work when imaginary men can fuck in our heads *gets run over*”

“Unfortunately, it covered all of (name)’s actual ass,”

“his eyes relaxing and focusing in on the much nicer view of (name)’s chest.”

““Are you saying that to me, or my boobs?””

“little panting sounds as he tried to remember how to breathe.”

“He needed to scream into a pillow, like, now. And then do other things with that pillow”

“She could talk to him however the fuck she wanted after riding him like that.”

“And my god if anyone saw his back they'd think he got attacked by a bear or something “

“(name)’s sense of time is a little – hah! – fucked right now.”

“resisted that dang mouth”

“(name) has two tits!”

“a worker is giving him a weird look for clearly having boner while staring at some bell peppers.”

“He really was a friend shaped nugget”

““If it's not a booty call I'm not interested,” “

“(name) bussy canonically has the power to unlock peoples closeted inner fruit”

“the glass was so fragile that gay sex was enough to shatter it”

“just waiting for (name) to calm down. (name) also waits for (name) to calm down.”

“and enjoy the ride””

“nor does (name) actually get off on being commanded to fuck. (well, he might. i've never asked.)”

““I’m at a vulnerable time in my species transition and you’re making sex slave jokes?””

““Well, stop being horny for five seconds and let me finish explaining.””

“Gotta have a weird gay thing going with at least one of your friends at all times.””

““Oh no, your dick is broken! I’m prescribing you blow jobs~””

“trying to look calm and collected. like a cucumber.”

“giving it the sloppiest toppy he could in his state.”

-🍞

“Breed! Breed! Breed! Mate! Mate! Mate!” I felt that. LOL

““Are you saying that to me, or my boobs?”” FAVE FAVE FAVE

#bluie gets an ask poggers #long post #fanfic quotes

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oddmawd · 1 year

Text

The Most Coveted of Thrones (Part 1)

SYNOPSIS: All she wanted was to make a deal with a demon. The assholes at her office needed to pay, you see. But the pink-winged devil she just summoned hardly looks like a demon at all, and with a name like "Joker," it's hard to take little things like supernatural safety precautions seriously.

Alas, Joker is not a demon to be trifled with. Especially if you don't know his true name.

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

PAIRING: Doflamingo x Original Female Character, Doflamingo x Reader (no names or descriptions are given, so reads like a third person reader-insert story)

RATING: This intro is PG-13, but the full fic on AO3 is Explicit, Mature, FOR ADULTS ONLY

WORD COUNT: 16.8k total

GENRE: Smut, Horror

FANDOM: One Piece (Alternate Universe - Modern Day Urban Fantasy)

TAGS: Monster F*cking, Monster P*rn, Demon F*cking, Demon Summoning, Demon Deals, Demon/Human Relationships, POV Third Person, Reader-Insert, Original Character(s)POV, Original Female Character, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Guilt, Inhuman Anatomy, Seven Deadly Sins, Magic, Virginity

WARNINGS: Virginity discussions, implied workplace misogyny, DOFLAMINGO IS HIS OWN WARNING, this first part doesn’t need many warnings beyond “dealing with demons,” find the comprehensive tag list on AO3 (THERE ARE A LOT OF WARNINGS FOR THE FULL STORY, PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS)

NOTES: The second half of this fic is EXTREMELY GRAPHIC. Please heed the tags if you click the AO3 link and read the last half...only the first half/lead-up is posted here on Tumblr because the rest might get me banned LMAO

UNNAMED PROTAGONIST. SHE/HER PRONOUNS. READER (or the OC) has a VAGINA/BREASTS. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS OF HER ARE GIVEN, but she works at a marketing firm or something idk

This CAN be enjoyed fandom-blind!

enjoy, all you Doffy Degenerates out there...

According to the spell book she’d purchased from the sketchy goth dude at the occult supply shop she’d found on Google, the demon’s name was Joker, and he didn’t look anything like a demon at all. Or at least that’s what his summoner decided when the clove-scented smoke cleared and she beheld the creature’s shock of short blond hair, rippling abs gleaming like polished copper, and the cape of pink feathers hanging from his broad shoulders.

But then he flexed that cape and it turned into a pair of enormous, cotton-candy colored wings so huge they brushed basement’s opposing walls many feet apart, and she reevaluated her opinion of his demonic nature...slightly.

What kind of demon had pink wings, after all?

She imprisoned the demon in the middle of a large summoning circle drawn in silver chains, a bit of blood, and some other fluids she’d had a hell of a time obtaining and didn’t want to remember with any degree of detail, thanks. Instead she focused on the demon. (The demon, the demon, the demon! she reminded herself. Don’t forget you’re dealing with demons.) Hard not to focus on the demon when he rose to his full height, because his head nearly scraped the basement’s dank rafters. The man (demon, demon, demon! she repeated like a mantra) was at least ten feet tall, utterly dwarfing her perfectly human frame. A huge figure, a colossal man, a giant of a guy. No wonder the book had said to draw such an enormous summoning circle. If he sat down on folded legs, his spread knees would probably brush the myriad candles flickering at the circle’s edge.

But honestly, he wasn’t all that intimidating. If it weren’t for the height and the pink wings (or so she told herself in an effort to weaponize logic and bully herself into a placid frame of mind) he’d looked totally human. Nose, lips, sexy abs, eyes (what little she could see of them, anyway) were all in the right places. It further helped that he wore white sunglasses with reflective red lenses, frames shaped liked curving wings cupping his face and hiding his eyes from view. Sunglasses on a demon? Yeah, apart from the wings, he just looked like a human with bad taste. Nothing like a demon at all.

...or so she thought until she spotted the horns, curling and golden, sprouting from his forehead. They caught the candlelight when he dipped his head to look at her, and — yup, that was definitely a demon, all right. The tiny horns curved up and back out of the fringe of his hairline, tiny gilt protrusions no longer than her index fingers curing over his skull like an ibex’s, but once she caught a glimpse, she couldn’t take her eyes off them.

Joker’s wide mouth split into an even wider grin. He bent at the waist to get a better look, and the cavalcade of necklaces on his chest jingled and glinted in the candlelight, slowly swinging in the air. Medallions hung from gilded chains, festooned with arcane symbols undecipherable. Closer up, more tiny horns the size of her fingernails dotted the skin along his hairline. They looked almost like...sequins, maybe. Or like a dusting of glimmering scales in diamond patterns.

“Hello, little human.” He spoke in a deep, rich purr, sound like a gloved hand tracing letters on her shivering nape. “Is it you who dared to summon me?”

She swallowed. “Yup.”

He regarded her for a time, expression somehow inscrutable despite his enormous, many-toothed grin. She fidgeted beneath its weight. Though his glasses were fundamentally ridiculous (and totally unbecoming of a demon) she had to admit they were effective. This was a demon of deal-making, as she understood it. The glasses and smile were a variation of a poker face, she was sure, elaborately over-performed to keep her guessing. She’d need to be on her guard no matter what he looked like, that was for sure.

“Interesting.” His head tilted, muscles in his neck gliding under bronze skin. “You do not cower in fear before me.”

She frowned, but — wow. He was telling the truth. Her knees held steady, her palms remained dry, and the beat of her heart plodded along at a measured pace. But perhaps her lack of panic was to be expected. This wasn't the first time she’d successfully summoned something, after all. While she was not a witch by any means, she’d performed some basic spell-work over the past few months — practice rounds, basically. She’d been shocked when those worked, sure. But the novelty had worn off fast, because the imps cavorting in her summoning ring couldn’t give her what she wanted. They weren’t powerful enough, and the bastards at her workplace had persisted on making her life a living hell.

This demon, though? Calling forth Joker was calling out the big guns...literally. Guy looked like he could bench press a semi-truck. Muscles for days, each abdominal carved from stone, forearms corded with power and strength. Just looking at him, she knew that if anyone could give her what she wanted, it had to be a demon like him. The spell book in her arms had told her so, too. This demon granted desires to the prideful, it said — and at this point, all she had left was her pride.

It was high time to get what she was owed. And fear would not stand in her way. Not anymore.

So maybe that’s why she wasn’t scared. It had been a particularly bad work day, too. She’d been debating summoning Joker for weeks, but the assholes at the office had finally pushed her over the edge. She needed the spell to work after everything they put her through. She was too hungry for triumph to allow herself to fear.

Thus, intent on the goal before her, she shrugged and informed the demon she’d summoned: “You’re just not that scary, I guess.”

Pink feathers rattled like chains. “Not that scary?” he hissed between the blades of his teeth — which now looked a tad sharper than before. “Are you a fool, or merely ignorant? The impertinence.”

One massive hand rose, pressing toward her — but just as fear spiked her blood, a flash of light stopped Joker cold. Sparks fizzled against his skin with the scent of burned sugar, sickly sweet and nauseating. She released a tense breath. The summoning circle did more than merely summon. It also kept Joker locked within, keeping her safe and unafraid without.

And Joker understood this, because he lowered his hand from the barrier, fist clenching. “You should fear me, little witch. I am powerful beyond your wildest dreams. You are incapable of conceptualizing my immense might, my sway over the realms of Hell, my seat on the throne of the Dreaded Seven. You should fear — ”

“You look like an oversized twink who wandered out of a Miami gay bar,” she interjected. “I ain't scared of you.”

A beat of silence — and then Joker threw back his head and laughed. He laughed long and loud and lusty, hand on his horned forehead, chest heaving. It wasn’t a nice laugh. It made her feel small. Although she’d been the one to levy insults, he was laughing at her — she sensed that, felt the truth of his disdain in her bones. But it hardly mattered. So long as he gave her what she wanted, so long as he did as he was told, she could put up with being laughed at.

She’d had practice, after all. Her office was full of demons of a different stripe.

But, just like at work, her pride wouldn’t let her back down without a fight. She crossed her arms and looked him up and down, hip jutting out, feet shifting into a stance of lazy confidence (a posture she knew projected power — they’d told her so at the workshop for young professionals she’d attended last year).

“So. Your name is Joker. Fan of Batman, huh?” she asked.

His laughter faded to a mere chuckle. “Joker...is that the name your spell book gave you?”

“Yes.”

His glasses glittered with mirth. “Interesting.”

“Don’t pretend I got your name wrong,” she spat. “You wouldn’t have shown up if it were wrong.”

“How very logical of you.” He grinned all the harder. “I’m impressed.”

Joker applauded her, then — palm on palm ringing out in the candlelit basement, every slap of flesh a patronizing thunderclap. Bracelets chimed like church bells on his desecrated wrists. She wanted to slap him, wipe that smirk off his handsome face...but he looked rich, damn him, with all those necklaces and that gold skin and that chiseled jaw a model would envy, and the spell book said he could grant boons to those seeking their own fortunes. Joker’s attitude, his pride...it’s why she’d picked him out of all the other demons in the book. His arrogance was as good a sign as the gold on his wrists. It gave her hope — but she didn’t let that hope show on her face, instead scowling up at him, one foot tapping the creaking floor.

“Neither trickery nor flattery will work on me, actually,” she said, tossing her head, “so you can save the ingratiating act.”

He chuckled again. “Noted, little witch.”

“I’m not a witch.”

“Oh, no?” A huge, pink tongue poked from the corner of his mouth, lascivious and indolent. “You look like a witch to me.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m a digital marketing manager.” The title grated like sandpaper on her tongue, as ill-fitting as her boss’s cheap suits. “But that’s not all I want to be. What I know I can be.”

“And that’s where I come in?” Joker said.

“How’d you guess?”

“Why else would you summon a demon? You want something.”

He drawled the world ‘want’ as if savoring its flavor. She suppressed a shudder.

“Yes. I do,” she said. “And I want you to give it to me.”

“You want me to give you what you want...” he said, still drawling that one particular word. “Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Would you say it for me, pet?” he purred, voice simpering and sweet despite its deep tenor. “I do so love hearing my assignments in plain language.”

It sounded like a simple request — but she didn’t grant it right away. The book had warned her about giving demons even the littlest leeway. But after analyzing the request in her head, she didn’t see any fault in it. There wasn’t any monkey-paw-wish-twisting happening that she could discern. So she shrugged, and squared her shoulders, and took the plunge.

“Sure,” she said. “I want you to give me what I want.”

He let out another long laugh. “Excellent.”

“As for what I want... well, let me start at the beginning.”

He hadn’t asked, but she figured he’d need to know in order to make good on their soon-to-be-discussed deal, so she explained: Her ungrateful bosses. The two-faced guys at work who sucked their metaphorical dicks to get the best projects. Late nights spent working for no recognition. Ideas sniped from under her by assholes who gave her zero credit. The way her workplace nemesis mocked and belittled her when her back was turned but played nice to her face. The petty minutiae, the annoyances, the burning hatred she felt for that one asshole in particular who did not deserve his success — the success that should be hers, dammit.

She should have been given the office when it opened up. She should have been recognized and promoted. She should be given the high-profile accounts with better bonuses. It should be her, dammit — but instead it was him. The man who treated her like garbage. The man sabotaged her at every turn. The man who didn’t deserve any of it, but the man who got it because he played the right kind of game, and played it dirty besides.

She went on for longer, perhaps, that she should have, but Joker didn’t tell her to stop — not with words, anyway. She’d launched into her fourth (fifth?) anecdote about her supremely shitty coworker by the time he heaved a sigh and rubbed his temple with a fingertip. His other hand prodded the barrier, idly coaxing forth sparks with every flick. She flinched the first time, but she ignored it the second, and the third. The barrier was impenetrable. She wasn’t worried; let the demon sulk. She needed to vent. Luxuriate in her anger before taking her revenge.

And her rage-marinated revenge, when she had it, would no doubt taste sweet.

“So you’re dissatisfied with your occupation,” Joker said when she paused for breath. The demon yawned, smile sleepy and wry. “How very dull. Humans are so tedious.”

“Sorry my problems seem so trivial to you,” she grumbled. “Now, about what I want — ”

Joker raised a finger and wagged it in her face (or as close to it as he could get, anyway). “Ah ah ah, little witch.”

“I told you, I’m not a witch.”

“You are, though. Anyone who can summon me must be a witch. And a clever one, at that.” He tutted, horned head shaking. “Although you seem woefully uneducated. Allow me to rectify this oversight.”

Wait. Was Joker being helpful? Oh, now that was suspicious as hell. She’d be damned if she’d blindly trust him after everything the book had told her. This demon “pulled the strings of the world to make destiny dance,” it said. Joker was a known wish-granted, a known deal-maker, a known bargainer of legend...but all demons hungered for human souls, and demons weren’t exactly known for their senses of fair play. Since her soul was the only price she wouldn’t consider paying to get what she wanted, she’d need to be on her guard through every last word, especially if he was pretending to be helpful. She’d hear him out but not take anything he said at face value lest she accidentally grant him ownership of that which she did not wish to give away.

Yeah. No genie tricks tonight, no sir. Just good ol’ fashioned bargaining. That’s what she was after, and that was all.

“Demons like me can give you what you want, whatever that may be, so long as you can command us,” Joker was saying in the same suspiciously gracious tones as before. “And you command us by knowing our true names.” He gestured at himself — at his powerful jaw, sculpted physique, and brilliant smile. He chuckled when she stared just a little too long; she ripped her eyes away, face flushed. “You summoned me. That is proof enough you know my true name and can command me as you like.”

“I knew all of that already,” she said, unimpressed.

“But I am willing to bet you didn’t know we still require payment for our services.”

She smiled. “Actually, I knew that, too.”

“Clever little witch!” Joker crowed. “Oh, but I am impressed.”

“Remember what I said about flattery?” She shook her head. “I suppose you’re about to ask me for payment. Gonna ask for my mortal soul?”

But Joker surprised her when he heaved a heavy, bored sigh. “Hardly. I have no use for a soul flitting about. Human souls are ever so tedious.” He laughed again, another derisive barrage of mirth that set her teeth on edge. “And besides. The worth of a human soul is hardly as costly as you humans tend to think. You hold yourselves in laughably high regard.” Another laugh, even louder than the one before. “And they call me prideful.”

“We’re not worth much? Really?” she said, not quite believing him.

“Oh, yes.” He grinned like a shark, pink feathers rustling like clinking scales. “Trust me, little witch. Of all the sins, I understand pride most intimately of all.”

And then he was laughing again, condescending and demeaning and mean — second verse, same as the first. By then she was used to feeling like Joker got off on telling jokes he had no intention of explaining; no sense getting offended. She rolled her eyes and tapped her foot, impatient.

“So my soul isn’t worth anything,” she said. “What do you want from me, instead?”

“Nothing you cannot live without.” He gestured vaguely at nothing. “But it must be equal in value to whatever you ask for.”

“I haven’t asked for anything yet.”

“Of course you haven’t.” He hummed. “You must first pay my price.”

“A price you, once again, have not told me,” she reminded him. “Shouldn’t you hear what I want before naming your price, anyway? How can you know how much to charge me without knowing what I’m buying from you?”

He grinned like a waning moon. “What I desire will no doubt pay for whatever petty want you care to name.”

“And what do you desire, Joker?”

“Your virginity.”

Joker said it so bluntly, so confidently, she thought she’d misheard him. But then perception caught up with reality and her face caught fire, shame and shock setting every last nerve ablaze. Even the candles near her felt too hot, all of a sudden, the acrid tang of smoke cloying in her throat.

“H-how — ?” she stammered. “How do know I’m a — ?”

“I can smell it.” His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “You’re pure. Untouched. Tantalizing. Demons can smell it for miles — that scent ripe for spoil. And virgins are so rare these days. There’s really no mistaking it.”

Both enormous hands lifted. His fingertips raked across the barrier — trying to touch her, but unable. A shower of sparks caught his golden horns where they curved upward, lifting away from his skull toward the heavens he had long been banished from.

“To be summoned by one as beautiful as you, as pure as you, as eager as you...” Joker’s laugh rumbled in his chest, razor sharp and velveteen. “This is a rare opportunity, one I do not intend to squander.”

She coughed into her fist. Virginity — of all the things he could’ve asked for, that particular bauble hadn’t ranked high on her list of payment possibilities. It wasn’t like she cared about her virginity. She’d happily prioritized studying (and then working a thankless job) over finding someone to fuck her. And besides, it wasn’t like virginity was real. It was just a misogynistic social construct meant to keep her from asserting her sexuality in a patriarchal society that feared powerful women. It meant nothing to have sex the first time. In fact, she’d debated many times the merits of finding a random hookup through a dating app just to get her “first time” over with, but she’d never quite found the opportunity to follow through.

Suffice to say, giving up her virginity didn’t mean anything to her...but she’d be damned in she told Joker as much. If he thought her useless virginity was valuable — well, she’d let him think so. She wasn’t about to cheapen what, to her, seemed like the biggest bargain ever.

Speaking of biggest: Would Joker even, y’know...fit? Inside her, that is? Because he was probably ten feet tall, horns scraping the rafters, and that meant he had to be packing, right?

Oh, god. If she hadn’t been praying for mercy before, now felt like a good time to start.

She didn’t let any of her misgivings show on her face, however. She didn’t have glasses, but her poker face was still pretty great after sitting through so many infuriating meetings without flinching. She pretended to mull it over, looking at Joker’s broad shoulders and trim waist as if considering his proposition. Not that thinking of him in such a context was a difficult task. Full lips framed Joker’s endless grin, his broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist with a gorgeously cut Adonis belt, and that washboard stomach...well. She could lose her virginity to a lot worse, at least in the looks department. And at least she’d be losing it by candlelight! According to movies, candles were necessary (even if these candles smelled like outdated incense — a gift from the guy with the weird eyebrows at the occult supply shop, not that it even mattered).

“Virginity...that’s a big ask,” she said eventually.

“Indeed, considering.” He gestured at his hips like he’d read her mind, grin taking on a simmering heat. “But it is my price.”

“Why virginity, anyway?” she said — trying to ignore the way his smile set off fireworks in her belly. “How could that possibly be more valuable than my soul?”

“You have heard of an incubus, haven't you, my little witch? Demons who feed through sex?” he asked. “Sex is a mingling of essence, of energy, of pure power. A perfect conduit for magic.”

“I guess that tracks.” She looked him over with new understanding. “So you’re an incubus, then.”

His smile grew. “Incubus use the energy of intercourse to power themselves.”

To her, it seemed he spoke from a place of authority — which made sense. He was an incubus. Funny the book hadn’t mentioned that, but... “Makes sense.”

“Indeed,” he said with another of his knowing chuckles. “When in the mortal realm, demons such as incubuses are cut off from the fires of Hell, our homeland. We retain certain abilities, but we lack true power here. It is ever so dull.” She got the sense he’d rolled his eyes, though she couldn’t see them. “In order to give you what you want, I must have power. That power must come from the summoner, and that power must be enough to grant the summoner’s request — an exchange, equivalent and equal.”

“Still seems like my soul would be worth more than my virginity.”

“Perhaps — but to take your soul would kill you. How can I grant you what you want if you are dead? I trust you would need to be alive in order to enjoy whatever it is you intend to ask for.” A growl resonated in his chest, heavy and heated. His obscured eyes remained fixed on her. “And the first bite of a virgin is potent magic indeed. More than enough to place you on the most coveted of thrones.”

She frowned. “The most coveted...?”

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” he asked — but before she could reply, he held up a hand, bracelets on it ringing. “You needn’t say. You’re hungry for power. The scent of that ambition is nearly as strong as your virginity.” Again he licked his lips, tongue broad and hot and huge. “Pure and tainted all at once...oh, how delicious you’ll taste.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” His eager stare was doing things to her, thighs pressing together tightly, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Instead she backtracked, picking apart his language to focus on: “The most coveted of thrones...?”

It was a peculiar turn of phrase, but an evocative one. The job title her shitty coworker had usurped from under her, complete with a promotion and a raise and a huge oak desk with a leather top like something straight out of Mad Men over in the vacant corner office...that should’ve been hers. She should’ve had that metaphorical throne, not him. Joker had acted like her story about her workplace had bored him, but clearly he’d been listening well enough. That, or his demonic powers granted him knowledge of her world. Whatever the case, she was (grudgingly) impressed.

“So you know what I’m after,” she said. “I want — ”

But he lifted his finger and tutted again. “Not yet, little witch. Not yet. Payment comes first, fulfilled before services requested and rendered. Only once I have my payment may you tell me what you truly want.”

“I still think it’s weird. Like you’re doing this backward.”

“Perhaps I am.” His nose lifted, haughty as a preening flamingo. “But I wouldn’t expect a pretty little mortal to understand the ways of an infernal demon like me.”

“...I suppose that’s true.”

For a time, she sat in thought. He watched in silence, patient. Was that a predatory glint she spied behind his shades? Did the glasses hide the eyes of a hawk circling prey, perhaps? But no, that couldn’t be right. She knew Joker’s name. She had the power here, and she had been careful.

She was in control. Not him. And that meant she was safe.

Thus, confident in herself, she steeled her spine, breathed deeply of the smokey air, and asked: “Well, Joker. How would this work?”

One blond brow lifted. “Hmm?”

“You’re trapped in that circle. How could you even touch me?” She glared, daring him to contradict her as his smile grew and grew and grew until she feared his face might crack. “And before you tell me to let you out, I’m not stupid. I’m not about to loose a demon on the mortal realm.”

“Read your spell-book carefully, my dear. I am sure there is a solution to our dilemma within. I will hardly be the first demon to attend to his summoner’s sexual appetites.” His voice had adopted a simpering tone, low and cajoling, sticky and slick. “Does this mean you have accepted the terms of my bargain?”

“My virginity in exchange for the most coveted of thrones...I’m thinking on it.” She plopped down on the floor and opened her spell book on her lap. “Let’s see about this spell, first.”

Slowly, the demon named Joker lowered himself to the floor, too. And as predicted, the spread of his folded knees brushed the edges of the summoning circle, the barrier there humming with proximity-fueled power that hummed in her molars. Gosh, Joker was absolutely enormous — but the weight of his stare intimidated her far more than the size of his body. The shades obscured everything but the smile that told her nothing at all. What kind of demons wears shades? she found herself wondering again. Such a weird dude, this Joker. And he had a weird name, too. What kind of dude was named Joker, anyway?

No. Not a dude. A demon, a demon — never forget that. Especially not when he was acting almost docile.

Errant thoughts like those wouldn’t help her solve her problems, though. She focused instead on flipping through her book and reading the section on summoning circles all over again — and soon, in the footnotes and by the light of her many candles, she found something.

“‘If the demon need interact in corporeal fashion with the mortal realm but not be loosed upon it with infernal agency intact,’” she read aloud to herself, “‘the summoner need only add another layer to the barrier of...’” She flipped a page. “So I just need to...?”

She wouldn’t need to do much, it turned out. It would take only a few minutes to follow the book’s guidance and draw a second, larger circle outside the first, one the book claimed both parties would be able to enter freely — but one it claimed only the summoner could leave. The current circle kept the summoner out as much as it kept the demon within, it said, to ensure the summoner’s safety. The new circle would not allow the demon to escape, but the summoner could physically access the demon at will without worry of being dragged to the underworld.

In short, it seemed...safe. Suspiciously safe, in fact.

“This new circle is like a one-way barrier that won’t fully release you, but it allows me entry if I want,” she said aloud, mostly to herself. “It would still keep you trapped.”

“A pity,” Joker told her. “I do so long to be free.”

“Fat chance.” She glanced at the book again. “It would keep you trapped, but I could enter it without fear. And you wouldn’t be able to pull me into the inner circle and hurt me, either. Or pull me down to Hell through the portal that brought you here.”

“Drag a human to Hell?” he asked with a scoffing laugh. “How archaic! What would I even do with a human, anyway?”

His annoyance at the very idea of dragging her to Hell was oddly reassuring. “Plus it says you can’t drag anyone to Hell without their consent, so I’m safe,” she went on. “And if you hurt me, it says you’d be banished at once. And there’s a dispelling word I can say, or even think, at any time to send you back inside the main circle, where you’ll be trapped again.” Was she trying to convince Joker or herself that this was a good idea? In a show of fake-it-till-you-make-it confidence, she declared: “Looks pretty foolproof to me.”

“A foolproof annoyance,” he returned with a grumble. “But it serves our shared desires well enough.” That smoldering look from earlier returned; Joker rolled to his knees, sitting back on his heels with thighs spread wide. He ran his palms up and down them in slow pulses, from groin to knee and back again. “Does this mean you have accepted — ?”

She yanked her gaze away. “Still thinking on it.”

And she did think on it — long and hard, which was probably a pun considering what she was about to (potentially) do with the demon before her. Virginity was such a small price to pay to make her dreams come true, wasn’t it? And she’d definitely ask for revenge on those who’d wronged her as part of her rise to the throne she coveted most...

What were a few minutes of sex in the grand scheme of things?

What was virginity in the face of her future?

Not daring to look Joker in the eye, she stood. She moved the candles back a few feet from the first summoning circle. She went to the bucket of paint in the corner (the one mixed with those fluids she didn’t want to think about) and grabbed the brush resting beside it on a painting tray. Still not looking at Joker, she went to the edge of the circle and began to draw.

But she needn’t speak for Joker to understand. “So you have accepted,” he said, watching her work with a simmering intensity she felt blazing against her skin. “I knew you’d see it my way, little witch. Soon I will give you what you want.”

Again, he drawled the word. Again, she shivered. Again, he laughed at her expense and at an unspoken joke only he understood.

“Yeah, yeah...” she grumbled. “Hold on, just let me concentrate...”

She painted the circle in what felt like both hours and seconds, both long and short, both infinite and finite time at once. Joker watched mostly in silence, though occasionally he chuckled to himself. He only moved once she finished painting and stood back to admire her work, which he tested by pressing a hand to the barrier of the inner circle. It sparked briefly against his palm...but then it gave way like a membrane under pressure, admitting him into the outer circle with a fizzle and a pop of deflated pressure.

She expected him to step into the outer circle at once, which afforded him at least a few more feet of space, but he surprised her. He stood without moving in the center of the inner summoning ring, grinning, rotating his head atop his neck as though preparing for some physical feat. The new circle gave him more room to maneuver, but although his wings rustled in anticipation, they did not stretch wide just yet.

“The time of our bargain is upon us, pet,” he said.

“Pet, again...” She rolled her eyes at the name.

“You know better than to tell me your real name, so my terms of endearment you will have to endure.” He licked his lips. “So...”

“So,” she repeated.

“Let us forge the pact.” He drew himself up, voice deepening. “You give yourself — ”

“Not myself. My virginity,” she said, on guard against the Monkey’s Paw he’d so clearly tried to instigate.

And he didn’t argue the distinction. “You give your virginity to me,” he readily amended, “in exchange for what you want — a prize to be named upon completion of payment rendered.” His head cocked to one side. “Do you agree to these terms?”

Again, she thought about it. Turned the wording over in her head. Analyzed and picked it apart until semantics blurred into loose sounds and unrecognizable shapes. But she could find no loopholes, and so she nodded.

“Yes,” she told the demon she called Joker. “I agree to the terms.”

Something passed between them. A solidity, a pressure, a connection — it snapped into place like magnets crashing, like a key entering a lock, like gravity snatching an apple from the air as it fell from some forbidden primordial tree. She shivered. A sharp crack of laughter boomed from Joker’s long throat, zealous and full of promise.

“Wonderful!” he said — and that booming laugh dropped low, like fire dwindling to coals burning beneath heap of satin ash. “Then let us begin.”

Part 1 - END. Continued on AO3.

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estellamiraiauthor · 3 months

Text

Some thoughts on the Ken Hill Phantom in Tokyo—both the show itself, since I’d never seen it before (only partial recordings, never even a full video) and this particular production.

Apologies in advance that I do not know the names of much of the cast… only three cast members are named on the website. I guess you had to buy a program to get some credit for the others, which seems a little shitty… they all did a great job and I’d like to be able to give credit where it’s due… if anyone happens to have a full list, let me know and I’ll add that information.

So, overall thoughts… it was a lot funnier and more fourth-wall-breaking than I expected. Not all of the jokes quite landed (either with me or with the audience in general), but it wasn’t because they were especially dated either, which is always nice in an older show. Just some moments that were like “I know I’m supposed to laugh here, but the joke’s just not that good.”

The banter between Richard (the only new manager in this version) and the old manager, and between Richard and Remy (his assistant or manservant, who kind of fills the role that a second manager sometimes does) usually worked, and all three of them were talented actors. Richard is the former manager of a railway company in this version, which he brags about quite a bit, and I think it was an interesting attempt to showcase the difference between a businessman who really doesn’t appreciate or even attempt to understand opera at all, vs. the Phantom, to whom art should be everything… unfortunately I feel like overall, the Phantom’s characterization was a little weak, which really hurt the emotional impact of the second act. More on that later.

Jammes sort of fulfills the ALW-Meg role here, and this was an interesting character for me because she wasn’t really very good of a dancer? What she did, she did competently, but definitely came off as “actress who has taken ballet lessons” rather than professional ballerina. It also didn’t seem to be much of a singing role, so not a case of choosing a singer over a dancer… I suppose she was maybe supposed to be comic relief, but the actress played her pretty straight?

Paul Potts as Faust is one of the three credited actors, alongside the Phantom and Christine. I LOVED him on Britain’s Got Talent, and watched a few videos of more recent performances when I learned he would be in this, but I wouldn’t say I’ve seriously followed his career. I was surprised in general that the role was such a funny one, and that he was extremely funny in it, because the image I had of him was definitely “Super Serious Tenor”. He was extremely enjoyable, both as a singer and as an actor here. For those who are wondering, because I Googled the role and didn’t find much, “Faust” is essentially the “Piangi” character here, except we never learn his actual name (although we do learn Mme. Giry’s!). He actually had a bigger role than I expected based on his first couple of scenes, unlike poor Mephistopheles, who got killed off fairs soon, for the actor to return as the Persian!

The other major character we meet in that first scene is Raoul, who is Richard’s son in this version. The whole “Little Lotte lost her scarf in the sea” backstory never seems to have happened. Christine and Raoul are already in love from the first scene, but we never learn where or when they met. Interestingly, while the whole “Raoul as aristocracy would never be with an opera singer” issue is not addressed here, since he’s not aristocracy, he does bring up how inappropriate it would be for Christine to be alone with a man in her dressing room. (Not that that stops HIM from barging in!) This Raoul was Sweet and noble, and I really wish I knew the actor’s name because he was a beautiful singer as well.

Christine actually didn’t get a chance to sing until fairly late in the show, and I’m pretty sure the first time she really sings is at her father’s grave, not during a performance or rehearsal! Tayla Alexander as Christine was AMAZING. It’s nice in general to see a Christine who actually is an operatic soprano (although I know that’s not really the POINT of a lot of versions, and don’t mind at all when they don’t, it’s refreshing to see a Christine close to the Leroux character?) She was a great actor too, and this is definitely a Christine with agency. I thought it was an interesting choice to have her come straight out and say “I PITY you!” at the end… that IS possibly a bit of “datedness”? Leroux, or at least the translation I have, also says “pity,” but pity isn’t necessarily seen as an emotion people WANT others to feel about them these days… not sure if that’s an evolution of language/evolution of disability culture thing, or just that this Christine is brutally honest?

So I guess this brings me to the Phantom… he also doesn’t show up until almost the end of Act 1, which is a choice I respect… mystery is good for this character! But I also feel like less interaction with Christine ultimately just made him come off as a creepy incel? I have to say, I did not love Ben Forster in the role. I just went and Googled him because other than playing the ALW Phantom, I wasn’t familiar with him at all, and it’s not at all surprising to me that he got his start in JCS and Rocky Horror etc… I’m much more interested in seeing him in those roles, because he has this like… rock-n-roll twang? To his voice that just did not fit a mostly-Leroux-faithful, generally-period-appropriate Phantom. He was overshadowed vocally not only by Potts but by the woefully uncredited Raoul and the Persian, and if the Phantom doesn’t have the most angelic voice on that stage, it just doesn’t work. I’m curious to see him as the ALW Phantom now, because I surprisingly don’t hate SOME more rock-ish voices there (Paul Stanley isn’t my favorite, but he’s far from my least favorite)… Looking those videos up once I get home!

Since I’m going through all the characters, this version actually has Mme Giry AND the Persian, although Mme Giry is in her original role as box manager! Mme Giry was another great actor and singer, she had a few nice funny moments to break up the overall gravitas of the character.

The Persian… well, this gets into the whole weakness of the second act and of the Phantom character in general. The actor who played the Persian (as well as Mephistopheles) was great, and I didn’t really have a problem with HIS character so much as the needlessly convoluted backstory they gave him and the Phantom. Just about the ONLY sympathetic backstory we get from the Phantom comes from the Persian, and he’s actually pretty brunt about it, just outright calling him “disfigured” rather than a monster or a devil’s child or whatever… which yes, is correct, but it just feels like it’s never really communicated to the audience with any degree of emotion how the Phantom (who never gets a name here) has really been robbed by society’s fear of any chance to have a normal life.

Christine doesn’t have that moment where she sees his face and is initially horrified. She doesn’t see his face at all until the end, so never gets to speak sympathetically about him to others. The Phantom never talks about his OWN past. And what we get from the Persian is mostly about how good at torture he is, oh and that he killed their parents. Because the Persian is his brother.

And I just… that feels so unnecessary? And I think, throws something in there that doesn’t need to be, because is this story set in France, written in English, now commenting on the treatment of children with facial differences in Persia? I don’t really think so, I think it was just supposed to be a big reveal, but it really fell flat. And honestly, if the dude’s parents neglected and abused him… we’ve all been following the Gypsy Rose Blanchard thing for long enough to say, maybe not that it’s OKAY to murder an abusive parent, but it’s certainly a lot more sympathetic than the Persian makes it out to be.

So, in the end, the Phantom is trying to force Christine to marry him by… yelling at her and telling her Raoul is dead. There’s no scorpion and the grasshopper, no Raoul held hostage. If she says no, he’s probably going to kill her, but he’s planning to do that anyway, so it’s a little hard to say what either of them hope to get out of the situation.

And in the end I guess he repents and kills himself, and then all of a sudden all of these people who have been physically and psychologically tormented by him gather ‘round to sing about how he won’t die without a friend? And Christine says he was once her angel of music, but because we’ve never really seen them in the same scene before this, it’s hard to really feel anything about that.

The second act just felt like a huge disappointment after the first… and a lot of that just hung on the Phantom, both the way he was written and the way he was played and sung. I’m glad I saw it, and it’s really interesting to see the parallels either way certain scenes that probably inspired ALW. I was particularly glad to be introduced to Tayla Alexander. But I’m also not going to be going back, at least not during this run.

#ken hill phantom #phantom of the opera #Ken hill #ben forster #Paul Potts #Tayla Alexander #musicals #musical review #live theatre #live theatre review

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otakween · 11 months

Text

Digimon Adventure 02: Revenge of Diaboromon

Wow...somehow this one just completely fell off my radar, otherwise I would have watched it a long time ago lol. I seriously thought I was all caught up with pre-Tamers anime until I saw this on the 02 TV Tropes and was like "oop..." It was a good surprise though, I can never get enough of these Mamoru Hosoda style shorts! (Looks like he didn't actually work on this one though).

I watched this dubbed first to take screenshots and then subbed. It's hard to find a non-crunchy version of the subbed short. The OG Japanese was a lot stronger imo because, as usual, the dub ruined some stuff with it's jokey tone and music choices. Still decently faithful though. Full thoughts below.

Notes:

So this is like a midquel, I guess. I don't know if there's an exact place within 02 I was supposed to watch this, but I didn't feel like my immersion was wrecked or anything haha.

While the aesthetic of the short was great, I felt the story was pretty redundant and eye-roll worthy. "Oh Omegamon/Omnimon is back for some contrived reason and the OG chosen children's digimon can't defeat him like they did last time...for some contrived reason. This looks like a job for the 02 protagonists!" Whatever, it doesn't have to be deep to be fun.

The early 2000s CG looked pretty good actually. I thought it added a fun otherworldliness to the Kuramon.

Kuramon look a lot like Takodachi (Hololive fans know what's up). I wonder if there was some inspiration there on a subliminal level.

I wonder if Daisuke's character designer intended him to be from a southern part of Japan. His tan skin sticks out more in this art style.

I feel like Diaboromon got uglier somehow compared to Our War Game lol. Armagemon's design was deliciously creepy though. He looked like something out of an Alien movie. His entrance was epic and probably would have freaked me out a lot as a kid. Weirdly, they never actually said Armagemon's name so I just assumed it was Diaboromon until I googled it just now lol

Sora and Mimi were like two sides of the same coin in this. Mimi was useless, but in a delightful way. Sora was useless, but in a boring way lol. Seriously, she didn't need to come all the way home from her tennis club trip to just go "I'm here!" and then do nothing. I'm not saying there was much she could do anyway, but I get really pissed that they never gave her character a real point aside from "bland love interest" in any Digimon show/movie.

Loved Mimi's interactions with Koushiro. Their awkward "we're in the same friend group but have nothing in common" chemistry is so fun.

Yamato seemed extra cool with his rings and stoicism. I do kind of wish he and Taichi got a little more dialogue though.

Really didn't like the direction of the fights inside the internet. They were either animated too up close or too distant so I felt like I couldn't really follow what was going on half the time. Also, the choreography wasn't that inspired. The IRL fight at least had a cool Evangelion vibe going for it. The harbor was a really aesthetic setting for a final fight.

I've started shipping DaiKen for funsies (there's some really cute fanart) so it was nice seeing them together in the elevated art style hehe.

Daisuke has a Yamato phone strap! So cute and supportive

It's funny how the digimon sizing suddenly changes when we're in movie-mode. Angemon and Angewomon were huge in this! I was excited to see the 02 digimon, but they mostly looked the same as they looked in the show tbh.

The Shibuya vibes, complete with Hachiko statue, were fun. Was 02 set in Tokyo? I honestly don't remember...

Seeing all those children running around at night without any worries about safety...must be nice, Japan.

When Omegamon "ran out of energy," I had the thought of like "can a jogress digimon die in the real world or would they always just de-digivolve??" I guess they'd never go that far for plot reasons anyways

Imperialdramon gets a new mode! Paladin mode, according to Google. Were these names in the credits or did they just decide things later for the TCG or something...?

We got the 02 theme inserted towards the end and even the OG show's theme as a ring tone. Really cute touch. (I was a little triggered to hear Bolero again for the millionth time though).

All in all I'm glad the 02 kids got their due in this style. Was it groundbreaking? No. Was it worth 30 minutes of my time? Absolutely!

#digimon #movie #digimon adventure 02 #Digimon Adventure 02: Revenge of Diaboromon

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bteezxyewriter12 · 2 years

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Love Motel/ 1

Pairing- Changkyun x Named Reader

Word count- 1.9k

Includes- sex proposition

Series Masterlist

⭐gifs are from google

J POV

"Have you ever thought of going to a love motel?", my best friend, Milena asks me

I choke on my soju, almost spitting it out

"Love motel? Like where people bring one night stands?", I ask after I finish choking

"Yes"

"No!", I exclaim

Is she crazy?

I'm not fucking any stranger

I don't want fucking diseases

And who knows if they clean those motel rooms?

Ugh

"Why not?", Milena asks

"Because it's gross"

"It's not gross", Saeyan defends, "The rooms are cleaned all the time"

"How would you know?", Taehyung asks

"Because I've been to them before", Saeyan says

"You have?", I exclaim

Two years of friendship and she never told me this?

"Well yeah. And it's not just for hook ups. Couples go there. Married couples too who want time alone", she explains

"But most people go for one night stands", Taehyung says

"Yes but that's not the only people who go there", she insists

"Well, I want to go to one", Milena announces

I look at her in complete shock

"You're kidding"

"No Jo. I wanna try it"

"You're insane. Who would you go with?"

"A guy, duh", Milena rolls her eyes

"A random guy?", I question

"Maybe", she smirks

God she can be so dumb

That's a completely stupid and dangerous thing to do

She doesn't know who she's picking up

The guy can be normal, can be married or can be a serial killer

"Don't be dumb", I snap

"Fine. Maybe I'll go with Taehyung", she announces

She really has no shame when she's drunk

She's been crushing on Taehyung since we met him

And this is not a subtle way of telling him she likes him

"What?", he squeaks

"What you don't want to go with me?", she pouts

She has to be piss faced drunk

No way she'd do this sober

"It's not that. It's just....this is coming out of nowhere"

Oh sweet Taehyung

Such a blind idiot

"Cut it out Mi", I snap

"Oh please Jo, you need to go to one of these motels. You need to get laid"

I roll my eyes while Saeyan snorts and Taehyung looks shocked

"Yeah well I don't just open my legs for anyone", I snarl, embarrassed

Maybe I do need to get laid

I haven't had any since last semester before my boyfriend broke up with me

But I'm not desperate enough to fuck a stranger

"Not even him?", Milena nods towards the table in the corner

I look at the table, full of business men but I don't notice anyone looking at us

"Who?", I ask

"The guy in the middle. The one who has been staring at you all night"

What the fuck is she going on about?

"Look, he's looking again"

I lift my eyes to see the guy in question

His eyes are on me, his head tilting to the side

Jesus Christ he's fucking beautiful

Long black hair in a low ponytail, dark brown eyes, a jawline to die for, full plump lips, high cheekbones

He's wearing a suit and he's broad shouldered

Hand and finger tattoos that are bright and colorful

He doesn't look like he's built hugely but he looks fit from what I can tell

I tear my eyes away, my cheeks burning

"Like what you see?", Milena teases

"Well no shit, he's beautiful. But still a stranger so no, I won't open my legs for him"

"Seriously? He's hot! And he's been eyeing you all night. He does every time we're in here"

What?

This is the first time I'm noticing him

Which I tell her

"Well Jo, you're not exactly observant about your surroundings"

"You're oblivious", Saeyan says

"Completely", Taehyung agrees, "Even I notice how much this guy stares at you every time we're in here"

I glance at the guy again

He's leaning his head on his fingers but it's like once I look at him, his eyes move to mine

Shit

I look away as quickly as I can

"Who is he?", I ask Saeyan "If he's here all the time, you gotta know him"

She basically lives here

And in all the bars and clubs

She likes to party a lot

"Who?", she asks

Seriously hasn't she been paying attention?

"That guy right there", Milena says, The one leaning on his fingers"

Saeyan moves her head, looking in the guys direction

"Him? He's eyeing Jo?", she gapes

"Hey! I'm not a troll", I snap

"Of course not. It has nothing to do with you", she answers, "But I'm not too sure if catching his eye is a good thing"

"Why not?", Taehyung asks

"He's jopok"

"Oh shit", Taehyung gasps

"What's that?", I ask

"Korean Mafia"

Mafia?

Korea has mafias?

"I didn't know Korea had mobs"

"Yeah", Saeyan answers, "We have street gangs and Mafia, although the mafia aren't really in Seoul"

They're not in Seoul but this guy is jokop?

Doesn't make sense

"Then where are they?"

"Most in Jeolla regions like Gwangju. A lot more in Busan. That's where they're more well known. Incheon too"

Incheon is right near Seoul

"There's only one jokop in Seoul", she continues

Yeah great and I have to catch the eye of one of the members

Wonderful

"He", she says, nodding in his direction, "Is Im, Changkyun, high ranking member and leader of the Im jokop", Saeyan explains

The leader?

Like the boss?

Well fuck

"He owns this bar along with some popular clubs. All the protection fees from this section of Seoul go to him"

"Protection fees for what?", Milena asks

"It's money local people have to pay for protection from other jopok. It's just a way to make more money for the mafia. And to scare people.", Taehyung explains

"He's a loan shark too. Probably beat up or killed people as well. They all have"

Oh my god

I glare at Milena, "Definitely not someone I'd open my legs for Mi"

"Well sor-ry. I just thought he was a hot guy. I didn't know he's a crime boss"

He is a hot guy

Nice to look at

But that's it

Nothing I'd ever go near

I don't want to die

Still I peek at him again, to find him already looking at me, his mouth slightly open as he runs his tongue across his lips

Fuck me, that's sexy as fuck and I get a little turned on

'No', I tell myself

A one time fuck is not worth death

"Stop looking at him Joanne!", Saeyan snaps

"What?"

"Don't encourage him if you're not going to do anything. You don't want him chasing after you", she warns, "Because he'll get you"

No he won't

No one can get me if I don't want them to

But she is right, I don't want to encourage him

"Let's just go", Saeyan says

"Yeah we have class tomorrow anyway", Milena agrees

We do

Mine is just in the afternoon

Hers is in the morning

But we should go

I can feel his eyes on me

Standing up, we put money on the table to pay for our drinks, then we head to the exit

Right before I walk out of the door, I glance back at him

He's looking down at some papers, rubbing his lips with his finger and I notice the knuckle and finger tattoos he has

Hot

His eyebrow raises then his eyes move up, looking directly into mine

I fall into his brown eyes, not being able to look away

God he really is stunning

He smirks at me

Fuck

----------------------------------------------------

One month later

I get to X bar early, going inside and grabbing a table

Milena and Taehyung are now a couple and they're probably fucking or something

She texted me that they're gonna be late

Saeyan is working so she's coming later

As I sit down, I see Changkyun at the bar

One of his, people- employee, friends, Mafia member, I don't know- whispers in his ear and he immediately lifts his head looking at me

Ever since that day he smirked at me, I have been noticing that he does watch me every time we come to the bar

I lower my eyes and take out my phone, doing anything to keep my eyes off him

I sit for awhile, mindlessly scrolling through my social media, when someone sits in front of me

Finally they're here

Putting my phone down, I practically choke on air when I see Changkyun across from me

"Hi", he says

"Hi", I squeak

God he's even more handsome up close

And he's in a suit again, his hair back in a low ponytail

My weakness

That and undercuts

"So you're here by yourself this time", he says in English

"Uh...my friends....they're coming. They're late"

"Well that's good for me. I finally got you alone"

Uh what now?

I just stare at him, in disbelief he's talking to me and I probably look like an idiot

"You're always here with your friends and I've never gotten a chance to talk to you alone", he says, "Guess today is my lucky day"

"I uh....I guess?", I ask more than say

He smirks, "Am I making you nervous?"

"Kinda", I squeak

"Cute", he answers

Cute?

No, it's not cute

I'm a bumbling fool when I'm nervous

"I'm Changkyun", he says, "And you're Joanne"

I nod

I'm actually kinda shocked he knows who I am

But then again he's in the mob so he has ways of finding out

"Look I'm going to be straight with you"

"Uh alright"

Yeah sure, that'd be good I guess

"I think you're fucking gorgeous. And hot. I literally can't stop looking at you when you're in here"

Well he's very direct

"And I know you think I'm hot. I see you look at me once your friend finally got you to notice me", he says so nonchalantly

Like what he's saying is no big deal

"I know you want me. I can tell by the way you bite your lip when your eyes are on me", he smirks

Well he is very confident, I'll give him that

Almost too confident

And he's right

The more I come in here, the more I want him

But just physically because I don't know jack shit about him except he's a crime boss

He's a criminal

"And I want you too. Like a stupid amount", he continues, "So if you're friends are ditching you, why don't you come with me instead?"

"I uh...where?"

"Love motel. One of my friends owns one"

"But you're....you're in the jokop. And I don't want to die"

He laughs loudly, "You're not going to die. I'm not going to kill you and no one from my jokop will kill you either. It's not like the movies. Not for a one night stand anyway"

So that's what he wants

Just sex

And honestly that's just what I want too

"Come on. I'll fuck you really good. Eat your cunt. Make you cum a lot before I do. You don't even have to blow me"

Jesus Christ, the mouth on this man

And if I'm telling the truth, he's making me horny

He's waiting for my answer and I just say fuck it

"Yeah ok"

"Great. Let's go"

We both stand up and I follow him out of the bar

We get to a really expensive sports car that I have no idea what it is

All I know is it's a Ferrari