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magicalyaku · 1 year

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I had to write like three emails this month and am left thoroughly drained to write anything else at all. x_x Apart from that, though, my January was actually pretty good. I finally talked my coworker into getting the snowboard trophy in Tales of Vesperia for me because I failed horribly at it and it was the last one missing for Platinum. My friend and I spent like 3 hours thinking up the plot for an entire novel because I complained that books are always about that but never about this. Aaand I got a new bookshelf! So let's fill it up!

In Love with Adam (Liam Erpenbach): This is by a German author whose newer book "Solange wir die Sterne sehen" I read a few months ago. I liked this one a bit better. It's not quite as heavy (no sick boyfriends) but still reasonably serious. Funnily, I found the writing style of this easier to read than his second book. In return, the pacing is bit wonky. I'll keep an eye open for the author's next book! (I'd actually like to read more local authors. :I)

If this gets out (Sophie Gonzales & Cale Dietrich): This one was ... long. Not that it was boring or bad. But for what happenend I think it could have done with a few pages less. I'm also not totally sold on the "two authors writing one story in alternating points of view"-thing. While they claim in the afterword that the other author captured the characters oh so well in their respective chapters I would not fully agree. They did sometimes feel a little off. If I had to choose betweeen rereading this or Kiss & Tell, I'd choose the latter. :'D

Hell followed with us (Andrew J. White): Now this was something. It's the sort of "I have a vision and I'm going with it all the way to the far end no matter what you say", which earns my full respect. While I wouldn’t say I loooved the book, it sure was really good and I had great time (as much as you can have if everyone is dying). I liked the characters and they deserve all the happiness they can get! :( I just wonder how much of the story and the imagery I missed. There's a lot of Bible quotes in there - would it have made for a different reading experience if I had actually touched a Bible in my life? Also my ability to visualise things in my mind is very limited, so all the gruesome gorey stuff? Can hardly affect me. But it also made it harder to track Benji's descent (ascent?) to monsterhood. Good book. And that cover!

The Circus Infinite (Khan Wong): I rarely read true science-fiction, even though I like the genre in other media. Not quite sure why. Maybe it's also partly because of my lack of visualisation. It's hard work. :'D The Circus was a little hard for me as well, but you get pretty close to the main character Jes at least and that helps. Most of the others stay a bit underdeveloped though. The love interest for instance? I don't think he had much going on except being "perfect". 8D But to their credit, that really wasn't the point of the story. The romance was really healthy though, which is a big bonus point with Jes being ace. A year ago I read Beyond the Black Door by A.M. Strickland. I hated the romance in there and got so annoyed in the beginning already because the ace main character works or is expected to work as a pleasure artist and they spent so much time talking about sex and I was like “Why do you think I wanted to read an ace book?! You’re talking more about it than any other book I ever read!! D:” Of course, Jes ends up on a “pleasure” planet as well and has to visit a sex club in the course of the story. He’s also an empath and can suss other people’s horniness among other feelings which makes it even harder for him. But all of that was handled much better and more organically than in Black Door, so I didn’t mind it. There’s also a lot of real adventure going on that revolves around other things. Recommended.

Carry On (Simon Snow 1) (Rainbow Rowell): Finally something light and easy! As always, I was in need of a fantasy story, so after years I finally caved and borrowed this from the library. It was fun! There's only one thing to nitpick (careful, long rant ahead): My personal preference of points of view. I don't like first-person. I strongly dislike alternating first-person. Do I still read a lot of it? Yes. Because I've gotten a whole lot more tolerant during the past two years (I ditched so many books before because of their first-person narrators. :'D) But if I held on to that I'd read like three books a year. If the writing is decent enough, I can accept a lot. But I grew up on third-person, and am also German, so I complain! Take Bone Weaver by Aden Polydoros. First-person for the heroine only. We don't get anything that happens between the boys while she's not looking and it sucks! D: Hell followed with us has three points of view. Main narrator is Ben in first-person, but there's also Nick and Theo who get third-person. Mixing things up like that is so weird to me, especially since they only get 3 chapters in the whole book! Like, if a character only gets to narrate a single chapter, is it even worth to put in? Surprisingly to myself my answer is yes. It still feels weird, but I appreciate very much the inclusion of these chapters and wish Bone Weaver would have done the same. Now there's Simon Snow. And I lost count on how many people are narrating. Six? I accomodated to it as the story progressed and everyone actually got more involved. But ... Do I really need 4 perspective changes within the span of one kiss? (No.) :I I wish third-person would get popular again. The infinite possibilities it holds. u_u But I try to be a tolerant person and not let that spoil my enjoyment of the book. Will be picking up the other volumes soon!

The Five Stages of Andrew Brawley (Shaun David Hutchinson): I read the author's latest book Howl last month and now one of his oldest and I'm glad that I read them in that order! Because in Howl there's a lot of shitty people and bad stuff happening. In Five Stages of Andrew, there's still bad people (but they are “out there” away from the story) and bad shit happening but there's also a lot of nice people. Like genuinely nice people. It kinda rebuilds my hope in humanity. xD It’s also smart as usual and there are comic pages inside! It’s a really nice book indeed and yes, it made me cry.

I complained before how many of the books I read lack the balls to do really mean things to the main characters (there are some stragglers of course, looking at you, Mason Deaver), and I'm honestly not really good with bad stuff either. I like to know that things will be okay in the end. But. It makes you love them more, doesn't it? My favourite books of all times, the one I worship and adore, is an old German children’s book Die Katze Leonore (”Leonore, the cat”) about a kitten that gets abandoned because her fur is black unlike her siblings. And really bad stuff happens to her (she loses a paw and later dies). I bawled my eyes out when I read it the first time as a kid. And it made me love that cat and every cat in the world. My friends are always baffled when I laugh out loud about funny books even in public. But I’ll cry easily too when they’re sad. Those stay a lot longer in the heart. So come on, my books, give me feels this year as well, please. uAu

#yaku reads #january wrap up #books #booklr #lgbtq books #queer books #queer lit #hell followed with us #the circus infinite #the five stages of andrew brawley #simon snow #carry on #if this gets out #in love with adam #ace books #trans books

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imagineyourworld · 3 years

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Never Date a Pilot

Poe Dameron x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: When he hears that you’re going on a date with another pilot your best friend is anything but happy

Warnings: None

Masterlist

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“You’re going on a date with Jak Milson?”

You put the datapad you had been working on down and looked up at Poe. Your best friend was standing in front of your desk, arms crossed in front of his chest and disbelief written all over his face.

“Hello to you too, Poe”, you sighed. From the way he was looking at you you knew there was no chance you’d get back to work soon. “And yes, I am going out with Jak.”

For a moment Poe just stared at you in silence, then he put both of his hands down on your desk and leaned closer to you.

“Why?”, he asked. Just a single word and yet it had you riled up. Yes, Poe was your best friend, but years ago you had established one single rule for your friendship: You would not talk about your dating or sex lives, at least unless one of you had a serious partner and the topic could no longer be avoided, but so far that’s never been the case.

“Do we have to talk about that now?”, you asked. You lifted your hands and motioned around the room. It was only when you looked around a second later that you noticed that although there were ten more desks in the room, all of them were empty. You were alone with Poe.

“Worried your boyfriend is gonna come in?”, Poe scoffed.

It was the tone rather than the words that made your gaze return to him. Sure, Poe could get mad, but even then he didn’t talk to you in that tone, especially not when he had no reason to be mad in the first place.

You leaned back further in your chair and sighed. Apparently you had been right and this conversation would take some time.

“He’s not my boyfriend, I’m just going on a date with him.”

“Why?”, Poe asked again.

Abruptly you jumped up from your chair, causing him to take a step back from you so your heads wouldn’t crash together. You walked to the other side of your desk until you were standing right in front of him.

“I thought we agreed not to talk about dating.”

Instinctively Poe nodded, but just a second later he shook his head. You rolled your eyes at your friend. Didn’t he see that you had a lot of work to do and didn’t want to talk about this?

“So I have to abide by your principles and you don’t have to?”

He stepped closer to you, so close that your chests were almost touching and you could see the tiny golden specks in his eyes. Usually being this close to him would make you flustered, but today it only made you angrier.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Did you know he’s a pilot?”, Poe asked just a fraction of a moment after your question has left your mouth.

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing, your hands forming fists so tight you could feel your nails biting into the soft flesh.

“I did.”

You didn’t add that that might have been part of the reason you agreed to go out with Jak in the first place. Being a pilot, having soft curls, warm brown eyes and an easy smile he reminded you just enough of the person you would rather go out with to maybe forget about the best friend you have been pining over for years and move on.

All of the sudden the fight left Poe. He no longer stared at you with blazing eyes, but instead looked down at his feet, almost defeated. And no matter how much you just wanted to smack him a second earlier, now you longed to hold him until the worry lines on his handsome face disappeared.

“Poe”, your voice was barely above a whisper, scared you’d say the wrong thing. “What’s the matter?”

You reached out to capture both his hands in yours and gently rubbed soothing circles on his knuckles. “You know you’ll always be my favourite pilot.”

Gently, but determined, he pulled his hands out of my grib, though his eyes stayed locked on his feet.

“And yet you break your rules for another pilot.”

His voice was so soft and quiet, it took you a moment to fully register his words. Once you did, however, you were even more confused. Hadn’t he said something about rules earlier as well?

“Poe, would you stop speaking in riddles? What rules are you talking about?”

Finally he looked at you again. By now his expression was no longer angry or sad, it was plain confusion. You realized you probably didn’t look much different.

“Do you really not remember your rule about never dating pilots?”

You couldn’t keep the laugh that burst out of you contained. What on earth was he talking about? Sure, you’ve never dated a pilot, but that was partly because Jak had been the first pilot to ever ask you out and partly because you didn’t want to date just any pilot, you had a specific one in mind.

"I never came up with a rule like that."

“Of course you did!”, Poe exclaimed, a bit of the earlier fire returning to his voice and face. “Jean-Lyn’s seventh birthday party.”

He said the words with such a conviction that he must believe them to ring a bell, but you just shook your head.

“Poe, I barely even remember having been friends with someone names Jean-Lyn and certainly nothing that happened at their seventh birthday party.”

If the situation were less serious you might have laughed at the way hurt, confusion and realisation chased across Poe’s face.

“You really don’t remember, do you? We were playing a game or introducing ourselves or something, I don’t know, and we were supposed to say what we wanted to be when we grow up. I said that I was going to be a pilot and marry you, and I was one hundred percent convinced of both, but then you said that you would never date a pilot.”

You knew you shouldn’t laugh, after all, Poe was telling you about a childhood memory that clearly meant a lot to him, but you couldn’t help it.

“So you’re mad at me for something I said more than two decades ago? Poe Dameron, you are such an idiot.”

You were still laughing when Poe spoke again, but his words made you quiet down quickly.

“It’s not funny. Your words made me rethink my career countless times and if it weren’t for this war and the Resistance I would have quit flying years ago just to ask you out. And now I find out that you don’t even remember your own rule and are going out with a pilot that isn’t me.”

Finally it dawned on you. You remembered Poe thinking about not going to the Academy, wanting to quit flying and become a teacher instead, glaring at anyone who got close to you, but never another pilot.

A smile made its way to your lips.

“You know, there’s a pilot I would rather go out with that Jak”, you told Poe.

You didn’t know whether it was the years of friendship or the amused, yet loving and hopeful, expression on your face that told Poe you were talking about him, but he seemed to understand.

“I never said anything about going out with you, I said I want to marry you.”

His broad smile was matching yours and only grew when you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“How about we go on a date first, flyboy?”

Instead of an answer Poe put both of his hands on your waist and pulled you closer.

“Under one condition: Your new rule is that you don’t date a pilot who isn’t me.”

“I hate being told what to do”, you whispered against his lips. “But in this case I might make an exception.”

Instead of an answer Poe leaned down just a tiny bit more until your lips finally met in a soft kiss that sent fireworks through your entire body.

You had no idea why seven year old you said that she’d never date a pilot, because it was inevitable that Poe would become a pilot and there was no one else you’d rather date.

-------

Is this cute? Is this stupid? All I know is that writing this was more fun than doing my assignment

#poe dameron #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #star wars imagine #star wars sequel trilogy #poe dameron fluff

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

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Talks, Teases and Tea

Warnings: I can’t think of any. They’re just talking about boundaries and lightly teasing and tickling ech other. Brief Ler!Aizawa and Lee!Hizashi with implied Lee!Toshinori. About 2500 words.

Kanene’s notes: Heya! I’ve been wanting to finish this fic for a while! I wanted to write a bit more about it because it is an interesting scenario but dfghjdfghjr I was already losing the tracks with this quite long fic, so, yay! I am glad I am finally sharing this w u all <3. I hope u like this ^v^

[~*~]

Toshinori winced at his own smile, staring at the cup of tea in front of him with an intensity that wasn't really needed. His gaze flicked quickly across the two guests in the room, analysing the situation. Aizawa drank his tea slowly, partly oblivious to Hizashi, who kept drumming his finger on the tabletop in a rhythm he was sure he heard somewhere, humming a song. Their gazes locked together and Toshinori couldn't help the slight blush which traveled to his cheeks. They quickly averted their eyes.

Aizawa's loud, exasperated sigh flew across the room. "You two are ridiculous."

Hizashi and Toshinori broke down in giggles, not really denying the black haired teacher words, the acknowledgement of how they, professional heroes trained to act through the nervousness and pressure, just spent minutes deviating glares and blushing like teenagers in love making them only laugh harder.

"It's kind of silly, isn't it?" Yagi was the first to get himself together, softly smiling under Shouta's intense eyes.

"Yes." The aforementioned retorted. "But it's necessary."

"We can't say it isn't even a bit awkward, though." Hizashi contemplated, stirring a spoon on his untouched drink. His smile became wicked as he wiggled his fingers in front of Aizawa's face. "Aren't you nervous about sharing your deepest desires with us, Shou?"

He yelped as the other batted his hand away, scoffing, not unkindly. "Stop, you're scaring Toshinori."

The attention switched to the taller one. Showing vulnerability was difficult to all of them, but to the former number one hero it sometimes felt as if he would never be able to fully do it.

He was working on that.

"Oh, shit, sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, Hizashi-san." Yagi scratched at his neck, wondering if the hot feeling painting his cheeks would ever disappear. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you with it." His grin was small, but honest.

Aizawa did his best to not get up from his chair and hide Toshinori on his capture weapon before he killed him with cuteness, just as he did with his cats. At his side, Hizashi made a show of placing his hands on his chest and crying "My heart!" dramatically as if he just got shot. All Might's face got even redder.

"Right." The erasure hero started before his urge became stronger. "Let's start with a safeword."

"Right." Yagi beamed, getting a small notepad in hands and hurrying to find a blank space on it.

He looked up when no more suggestions filled the air, only to find a very amused green gaze staring right at him as the other grumbled something about not being awake enough for that and stole Hizashi's tea. "Toshi, dear, what are you doing?"

"I'm, uh, actually I…" He cleaned his throat. "My memory is kind of bad so I was wondering that I could, maybe, take notes?”

"Will they be coded?"

"Yes."

“Then I don’t care. Do what works for you.”

"Oooh," Yamada popped in, hands resting on the tabletop as his body inclined forward. "Clever! Such a clever idea! Can you teach it to me later? And let me take pictures?"

"O-of course, Hizashi-san."

Shouts huffed, amused. "You know he will use all that information against you, right?"

"Shhh! Shou, don’t expose my evil plan!"

"Maybe we could use the Spotlight system?" Yagi cut their bickering, knowing the lengths they could take their playfulness and he really doubted he would have the courage to finish this conversation another day.

"Bo-o-ring! We should choose something more unique and new! Something more like..." The blonde's eyes suddenly gathered a dangerous glint. "I am here."

"No."

"Absolutely not."

"No, no, no, Toshinori-san, hear me out, hear me out!" His words almost couldn't be understood across his crackles, the voice hero trying to make the Number One hero to stop hiding his face, knowing that any attempt of reasoning about this with Aizawa would be quickly ignored. "Think about it! Think carefully about it!"

The called one peaked between the fingers of the hand, opening his mouth to vehemently protest against the use of his hero persona’s trademark phrase, but then, in that exact moment Yamada pointed to Shouta.

Suddenly, a very clear image of his gloomy, reserved coworker, with a gigantic smile plastered on his face shouting "I am here!" between his frantic, low laughter filled his mind.

He took a steady breath.

"I am tempted," was his final verdict.

"Yes!"

"I refuse."

"Democracy is really a bitch isn't it?" Hizashi pouted in fake empathy. "I promise I won't tease you... too much."

"I can and will kill you both before that. I am an underground hero, I have my ways."

Yagi chuckled. "I still believe we could use the spotlight system, too. It's faster."

"Noo, Toshinori-san! We were almost winning!"

Aizawa flicked him on the forehead, lips quirking upwards before he sobered. "We also need a word to signal a need for a break and a non verbal one. That is not negotiable."

Hizashi blinked, red dusking his initially confident expression. "Oh, yeah, this is actually a very good idea."

"For the non verbal we could tap out?"

"Nope. I trash around too much, probably would do this without even realizing it…" How could Yamada talk so freely about this, Yagi would never truly understand. "Ah, I know! We could just snap our fingers!” He was fast to demonstrate his words. “Quick and easy!"

"And we could use Break as the other one, everyone agrees?" Aizawa nodded at the affirmative sounds said by the others. "Good. Bondage?"

Silence.

"I am… not very comfortable with it as the ler, but…" Hizashi drummed his fingers harder on the tabletop, stopping only when Aizawa gave his mug back, happy in occupying his antsy hands with it. "Sometime... When I am in a strong Lee mood, I like the light ones?"

"Always ask before, then." Yagi smiled kindly at him before scribbling that down. "Shouta-san?"

"Yes. Just not my arms."

"Right."

"And you Toshinori-san?"

The pencil stopped for a second. Yagi chuckled nervously.

"...I don't really know."

He couldn't describe it. That not quite quite, but definitely there, feeling that accommodated on his chest everytime he thought about it.

"It's okay." Yamada reassured. "It's never too late to discover and try it! When you feel comfortable enough to do that, of course. Also, don’t forget: just one word and we will stop."

"This talk is important exactly because of that."

Warmth filled Yagi’s chest at care and the safety that flowed from each act, each word from the other two.

"Of course." His tune then became serious. When did he get so soft in the first place? "And, if any of your preferences change, warn me. This needs to be comfortable for all of us, right?"

"Will do."

Shouta hummed in agreement.

"Okay. Aaand what about petnames?"

Suddenly, Yagi was very, very happy for having that conversation in person and not through shy, quick messages in their shared group - how he first intended for it to be,- because otherwise he wouldn't have had the gold opportunity to watch how fast Aizawa’s face was able to blush entirely with a single sentence.

The Erasure Hero lifted his gaze, gave a quick glance between Hizashi’s smug expression and Toshinori’s truly awed one and immediately shrunk on his chair, arms crossed and grumpy grubbles being chewed under his breath, the red on his features still shining brightly.

“Fuck.” Both of the other two integrants in the room snickered at the curse.

“Baaabeee.~”

“Shut up. I hate you.”

“My deeear, my adorably, adorable blushy toyy.~”

Shouta twitched in his place, an uncontrollable wobbly smile opening its way to his lips, butterflies jumping and dancing non stop on his stomach. He shrunk even further on the chair, refusing to hide his face only because he knew how much of a fuel that would be for both blondes.

(And, maybe because deep down, he liked the attention he was receiving.)

“I am going to leave.”

“Aww, why? The serious, grumpy Shouta can’t stand letting his bestest friends knowing that he is actually a soft, adorable, flustered-” at each adjective Hizashi ignored the other’s - admitelly fake - sharp gaze in order to poke his stomach with every word. “-little wiggle lee?”

It took just a blink of an eye. In a second Yamada was tormenting him, having an absolute blast with the way Shouta’s blush was travelling all the way to his neck, chest shaking with his attempts to trap the bubbling giggles inside, and, on the other, the underground hero used their proximity to grab the Voice Hero’s hand and twist him so the blond would be trapped on his arms, a surprised high pitched sound flying the air.

“I would be very careful with my next words, if I were you.” The black haired hero adjusted them so his low tune would hit directly Hiazhi’s unprotected, and also very sensitive, ears, that act alone being able to fish more whining noises from the blond.

“And you.” Toshinori couldn’t help the way his soft smile turned into a nervous one when those black, deep eyes stared directly on the bottom of his soul, the redness of his face taking some of the sharpness of his words, however. “Don’t think you’re out of danger just because there is a table between us. We know I’m faster.”

“I wouldn’t dream about it, Shouta-san.” Yagi replied with an amused placating gesture, his entire face filled with softness. “I was just appreciating how considerate and attentive it was from Hizashi-san’s part to bring up such an important topic and also how great it was for you to let him have some fun before your immediate reaction.”

He watched with a sweet interest and a polite faked confusion, as if he couldn’t understand the impact his words and the implications they held, as their faces were set on flames again with his blunt honesty.

“You’re on thin fucking ice.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Shouta-san!” The former number one hero chipped before innocently writing down a few more lines on his notes.

“Yagi-san!” Yamada whined. “I thought we were a team! Partners in crime! Two forces that gathered together to bring Shouta down. How could you betray me like that?!”

Toshinori just grinned free of any guilt, not taking long before he sobered again. “Is there, however, any nickname you’re not comfortable with, Shouta-san, Hizashi-san?”

The one with vivid green eyes seemed lost in thought for a moment, so the underground hero’s grumbles were easily noticed in the sudden silence.

“Just don’t call me any variation of ‘pet’ and you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you.” Toshinori replied, writing that information down as well.

“Oh, yeah, I just remembered something. It’s not really a nickname and more of a situation? I think it can be called that?” Hizashi cocked his head to the side, fingers tapping on the temple of his glasses. “I mean, it’s not the topic here and I can wait for when talk about it, of course! I just literally remembered it-”

“Hizashi. Spill it.”

“Right. Okay. Hm, don’t call for help while we’re at it?”

Shouta furrowed his eyebrows, not really getting the reason for the wish. His gaze found Yagi’s one and found confusion there as well, however both were quick to let it be buried away by understanding.

If Hizashi wanted to share his reasoning in the future, he would. It was not in their place to question his boundaries.

“Of course, dear.”

Hizashi could barely describe the warm, nice feeling filling his chest when he heard Toshinori calling him that, immediately melting when Aizawa gave his back a few light scratches, not enough to tickle, but just the nice tad of a good, comforting gesture.

“Softies, softies. All of you.” He sing sang cheerfully at them.

A squeeze on his tummy made a loud squeal cut any other teasing he might come up with. “I can show Yagi how soft you can be.” Aizawa purred, his hands slowly crawling to strategic, ticklish spots on his belly and thighs.

“Shouta. Shouta, wait! Y-you know I was only kidding, my dear, my sunshine, my old pal, my very kind, very, very forgiving friend!” Yamada’s wiggles become stronger, titters spilling from his lips in between his pleas, body squirming and trying to escape from the other’s still strong hold.

“Don’t think you will able to escape so easily, not after the whole ‘petnames’ topic you decided to bring up.” His titters evolved to fast giggles when Aizawa decided it would be a good idea to place surprising pokes and prodding on his skin. “Also, a serious, sad face doesn’t fit you.”

“We stihihill have to finish the conversation!” Aizawa hummed, not convinced. “Yagi, my hero, tell him!”

Toshinori wouldn’t point himself as a coward, really. He had faced and battled against all kinds of villains with a reassuring smile and a booming laughter on the tip of his tongue, he had survived a meeting with Nedzu and Gran Tourino’s training.

However, as Aizawa’s smirk was thrown in his direction in sync with a sharp, playful gaze, he couldn’t stop the excited squeak that escaped from his mouth.

Also, at the scene of a previously smug Yamada giggling himself silly and staring at him with a fake pout, maybe he couldn’t help but feel a little playful, as well. Besides, even though he would deny it until his end days, Yagi knew how much soft Aizawa truly was when it came to the people he cared about, therefore the underground hero would be careful to not cross any of the blond’s boundaries.

“Oh, my, it seems like the tea is cold.” He got up, gathering the cups on his arms. “Maybe we could take a deserved break before discussing the rest of the topics, right? I will make more tea.” And he grinned, light and innocently, at Hizashi’s energetic protests, which grew more less like words and more like a mess of laughter, snorts and giggles as the tallest friend directed himself to the kitchen.

After a few more minutes of tickles, Aizawa stared at the smiley mess on his hold with a dangerous shine on his eyes.

“You’re really a tickle monster, aren’t you?” Hizashi chuckled.

“It’s not my fault that he really believes he can escape from the same fate of yours.”

Yamada huffed a laugh, lightly smacking his arms. “Go. But soon enough I will catch my breath, so don’t forget to watch your back. ~”

Aizawa gave his hips a warning pinch before snorting as he got up, looking at the kitchen’s direction with a smirk on his face. “Good luck with that.”

Needless to say, they had a very giggly break.

#There isn't a lot of tickles here not gonna lie #they're silly ur honor #Ler!Aizawa #Lee!Hizashi #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #bnha tickles #bnha tickling #Ticklish!Hizashi #Implied Lee!Yagi #Quick Lee!Aizawa #you can pry the idea that Aizawa is weak for soft cute teasy nicknames from my very dead cold hands #It's !!!!! them!!! 💛💛💛#boundaries #serious talk #with a bunch of teases and tickles too

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karliahs · 3 years

Note

It’s been months since he was this close to anyone. It might have even been Jon the last time, too; helping him walk down in the tunnels. How did they get from there to here? How-

“Tim?” Jon asks softly, pulling back to look him in the face, and it’s the loss of that warmth and pressure that makes Tim realise he’s started breathing in great, shuddering gasps. He screws his eyes shut and Jon reverses their positions, pulling Tim into his chest with unpracticed but fervent hands. His T-shirt is soft against Tim’s face; he hadn’t thought Jon would own anything so soft.

Tim’s throat is burning, but as long as he keeps his eyes screwed shut then he isn’t crying. He isn’t crying on Jonathan Sims the night before they both-

“It’s alright, Tim,” Jon says, searching for words of comfort he only half believes himself. “It’s - whatever happens tomorrow, it can’t - we’re safe here.”

Tim laughs bitterly. “Nothing’s fucking safe.”

Jon seems unable to decide between rubbing soothingly at his back and just holding on as tight as he can. Tim shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be giving into this. But there's a reason he lost so much time when he should have been searching for the thing that killed his brother. The Institute was full of potential answers, but it was also full of bright, lovely distractions. He's buried in the arms of one of them.

Tim didn't used to think of that as weakness - but he didn't used to think there were worms that burrowed through your flesh, or creatures that took every true memory of your friend without you ever noticing, or monsters that played with skin, played with the fabric of who you were, because it was fun.

Tim doesn't know fucking anything, and maybe he never did, and now all that's left is to-

"What can I do, Tim?" Jon asks, and he sounds so honestly lost.

"Turn back time," Tim murmurs into his shirt. "Don't let go," he adds a moment later.

“I won’t, I won’t.” Jon clutches him impossibly closer. Tim’s world narrows down into warmth and pressure. “Tim, we don’t - we don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

The gentle vibration of his words is almost enough to distract Tim from the words themselves. He turns his head so he can speak un-muffled, and immediately misses the comfort of being closed in. “I do, Jon. I can’t…” Tim fumbles for the right words, wondering faintly if this is how Jon feels all the time, struggling to give voice to the unspeakable. “The worst thing in all of this, the worst thing would be if they hurt someone again while I’m just standing there."

Still not crying, not as long as his eyes are tight shut. He feels Jon hesitate, then push forward anyway. "Even if...Tim, even if you had moved, what could you have done?"

Tim squeezes hard at Jon's side and isn't sure if he means it as a warning or a plea.

"I'd never have met you," Jon says, so soft Tim isn't sure if he was meant to hear it.

"Was just thinking before,” Tim replies, because he’s fucked up enough that he might as well keep going, “I wish I'd met you somewhere normal."

Jon’s hands still, and for a moment the rise and fall of his chest does too. It’s the closest thing to absolution Tim’s ever offered. He’s glad he can’t see Jon’s face, can’t see whatever shock or gratitude is playing out there. At some point, he made himself into someone who no one expects to be kind. He wonders, vaguely, whether it counts as forgiveness, to want someone to spend what might be their last night on earth forgiven.

from: enemy of my enemy, aka jon and tim sit in various rooms and talk: the fic

thank you for asking!!! here we go:

It’s been months since he was this close to anyone. It might have even been Jon the last time, too; helping him walk down in the tunnels. How did they get from there to here? How-

do you ever just think about how fast things went wrong for the s1 crew...they were friends just a few months ago!! a few weeks in between no current supernatural experiences -> trying to survive supernatural experiences together by physically holding each other up -> complete alienation. some experiences just defy comprehension, emotionally speaking, even when you can see every step that led from there to here

i also like to make myself sad by thinking about the practical day to day aspects of everyone in the archives being alienated from everyone else. like...when were either of them last touched (non-violently)

so much has changed but they've circled back around to each other

'person starts crying without noticing until someone points it out' is a trope i generally try to stay away from partly because i just can't imagine that ever happening to me and therefore it doesn't ping my realism senses, but i get one (1) because it is undeniably juicy

this fic is very zeroed in on tim's perspective in terms of small sensory experiences, for a few reasons - drive home emotions, portray dissociation, and because i like writing about how it actually feels to be in a romantic gesture, to make it more real than just like...an image of people holding each other

small detail that jives with bigger points - jon's shirt unexpectedly soft, jon's surprising ability to still provide him with gentleness and comfort

i think jon here has no idea what to do but has been given permission to touch so is living his best tactile life with this inexpert hugging and is hoping that does something

Tim’s throat is burning, but as long as he keeps his eyes screwed shut then he isn’t crying. He isn’t crying on Jonathan Sims the night before they both-

“It’s alright, Tim,” Jon says, searching for words of comfort he only half believes himself. “It’s - whatever happens tomorrow, it can’t - we’re safe here.”

Tim laughs bitterly. “Nothing’s fucking safe.”

tim spends a lot of this fic having his inner-monologue cut off to try and show as well as tell that he's struggling to stay present

that 'both-' hurts me, honestly. hurts more than it actually being spelled out, i think. write to upset yourself, maybe you will upset others in the process

half is a word i absolutely overuse in writing but cannot stop. no one ever does something all the way, they are half- believing, wondering, worrying, etc.

i'm never 100% sure if i'm accurately capturing the way that jon speaks in canon but i did always like and want to emulate the fact that he speaks kind of hesitantly, trips over his own words, etc

again, jon does not know what to do so he is just trying. just trying to do any kind of soothing hand thing

i thought quite a lot about reconciling the seemingly happy-go-lucky tim that gets presented to us early on vs learning why he came to the institute in the first place. tim here is framing that as a failing because he's miserable and traumatised and guilt-ridden, but i think at least part of it was actual healing. he was taking time and enjoying the people around him and trying to make the best of things, until it all went wrong

related, the self-recrimination of tim hating himself for not having seen any of this coming, even though they were not predictable events...very human nature after you have been through something terrible. how dare i have not anticipated every trouble that ever befell me

'played with skin, played with the fabric of who you were' - a lot of this story was me just enjoying the themes of stranger-horror. i love the terror of knowing there are creatures who can change aspects of you that should be unchangeable, physically in skin and otherwise in terms of identity and memory. love applying that to jon and tim, who have been fundamentally changed against their will by trauma and their roles in a story neither of them wanted. skin as metaphor for identity, and learning that people can take away your skin is then utterly terrifying to someone who already feels like his identity is being forcibly eroded. and then that shared terror brings them back together, just a little

Tim doesn't know fucking anything, and maybe he never did, and now all that's left is to-

"What can I do, Tim?" Jon asks, and he sounds so honestly lost.

"Turn back time," Tim murmurs into his shirt. "Don't let go," he adds a moment later.

this fic...is so sad. why did i write this. why am i being attacked by my past self and their awful words on this day

explicit admission that tim wants/needs jon here...even a chapter ago he was like yeah i'm going to america with jon bc i am regrettably relying on him as my reality-anchor, nothing emotional here

“I won’t, I won’t.” Jon clutches him impossibly closer. Tim’s world narrows down into warmth and pressure. “Tim, we don’t - we don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

Still not crying, not as long as his eyes are tight shut. He feels Jon hesitate, then push forward anyway. "Even if...Tim, even if you had moved, what could you have done?"

Tim squeezes hard at Jon's side and isn't sure if he means it as a warning or a plea.

warmth, pressure, vibration...continuing to be fascinated by the little tactile details of what it feels like to be close to someone

emotional logic is so powerful. tim moving most likely would have either made no difference to the outcome or worsened it (because both him and danny would have died) but of course for tim standing still while someone he loves was destroyed counts for everything about who he is. sometimes blame feels better than helplessness, which mirrors what happens with his friendship with jon - is it scarier if they are all helpless, or if this one guy is The Enemy

‘give voice to the unspeakable’ sometimes i like poetic descriptions of jon’s role as archivist

"I'd never have met you," Jon says, so soft Tim isn't sure if he was meant to hear it.

"Was just thinking before,” Tim replies, because he’s fucked up enough that he might as well keep going, “I wish I'd met you somewhere normal."

tim views talking with and connecting to people as fucking up. how much of that is even slightly shrouded in logic and how much is just - tim is depressed and deep in self-loathing, somewhere still at the core of him tim loves people and making connections, so of course doing the thing he wants to do is wrong

‘At some point, he made himself into someone who no one expects to be kind.’ tim has this thought once and then worries at it like a sore tooth because his default state is hopeless fury with himself, with everyone. i also think this demonstrates how new information/realisations often can’t help you out of a bad mental state on its own, because it’s all too easy to slot it into your existing thought patterns. pushing everyone away was making tim worse - he starts to feel like that was a mistake, but it just becomes more self-recrimination

forgiveness is one of those words that seems to encompass so many different concepts that i find it hard to know exactly what it’s meant by saying you forgive someone. specifying what’s meant by this little shard of maybe-forgiveness makes it mean more, at least to me

may i reiterate: :(

#jontim #asks #give-me-a-minute-to-think #talking #tma /#long post #ps to the other person who sent me an ask for this meme: thank you!!! it'll be friday probs before i can answer

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jeonqquk · 3 years

Text

tattooing | jjh

Pairing- Jaehyun X Reader

Genre/ Tags- fluff, crack, bi jaehyun, lucas royally fucks up, tattooing

Age rating- 13+

Word count- 2.6k words

Summary- Tattooing doesn’t go as planned.

POV- Third person

Your whining wasn’t gonna get you anywhere, you were well aware of the fact. But you supposed that you might as well give it a shot. The ‘it’ here being the fact that you really wanted Jaehyun to get a tattoo. It wasn’t that you wanted to somehow blackmail Jae into getting a tattoo. Oh god, no. You’d never want that. It was just that you had always been fond of tattoos, the meaningful ones, not the totally unnecessary, really weird looking, out of the world ones. Jaehyun with a tattoo would be fucking hot though, that was just a plus point- not the main reason as to why you wanted him to get one.

You were thinking a sweet quote or something, but that would only be possible of he was willing to get one.

“Jae, baby, what do you think about getting a tattoo?” your boyfriend of 3 years sighs, rubbing his hand on your knee that had been placed on his thigh. “I don’t know..maybe later. Why are you so intent on me getting a tattoo though?” he wiggles his eyebrows, suggestively or whatever, and you look at him in confusion, trying your level best to stop the blood threatening to creep up your cheeks. You clear your throat and reply simply “I feel like a tattoo would be beautiful. Just permanently inked onto your skin. It should be something purposeful though. I don’t want you going bald and tattooing a zipper on your scalp.”

A snort is heard from him “Don’t worry, I’m not going bald. Although it’s a very tempting idea.” Rolling your eyes at his lame comment, you sit up and move over to cuddle closer to him on the couch. He wraps his left arm around you “Why don’t you get a tatto Y/n?” he questions and you look up at him in mild shock. Well, you could get a tattoo. You are of legal age and stuff but the thought had never crossed your mind. You don’t know why.

“....I could...” Jaehyun smiles, his dimples popping out and you can’t help but mirror the sweet action. “So why don’t you? We’re not even doing anything and I know for a fact that you have a lot of designs saved on your Pinterest board. Even if they were for me, you can try finding one that suits you too.”

Suddenly feeling giddy, you quickly grab your phone from the coffee table and unlock it, clicking on the app you needed. As you find the board, you see that you’ve gained 18 followers in the time span of 2 weeks. Huh.

As you scroll through the pins of small intricate designs that could be engraved onto a finger or hand, Jaehyun points out one that looked like watercolour art and was in the form of a small flower with red petals. It did look quite cute, to be honest. “Hmm, this does look nice. Won’t it look good on my collarbone?” Jaehyun nods in agreement “I was thinking that too.” Smiling up at him, you look into his eyes “Well, should I get this?” Your boyfriend chuckles at your excitement, and pats your head in adoration. “I know that you’re excited, sweetie. But don’t you wanna try looking at other designs before deciding?” Humming, you scroll a bit more as Jaehyun reads a novel. But you don’t find anything that captures your attention a lot. Sure the sweet quotes, couple tattoos and nature-related designs are great ideas for a tattoo but you were set on the one with the rose.

Jaehyun coos when you tell him that, squishing your cheeks and telling you that the two of you could go to a shop tomorrow and get design inked onto your collarbone forever.

It’s 9:28 am when you wake up from your slumber and turn to give Jaehyun who looks like he had also woken up just a few minutes ago a peck on his lips. His dimples are visible as he smiles and greets you. The two of you get up and freshen up before you’re sitting at the dining table to eat blueberry pancakes.

The clock shows that it’s 10:30 am by the time you two leave the house and head for the tattoo store you had researched last night. It takes 15 minutes to reach said shop and Jaehyun parks the car before looking at you with concern evident on his face. “Y/n, you are sure about this right?” Smiling fondly at his worry, you keep your hand on his cheek “I’m sure Jae. Don’t worry.” One kiss is enough to relax him and you pull away before you get too carried away and end up dirtying his car again. Oops.

You enter the cosy shop hand-in-hand with Jaehyun and see someone sitting at the reception wearing an oversized blue shirt. Definitely not the vibes you had expected to get from a fucking tattoo parlour but oh well. You had expected everyone to be intimidating and were ready to hide behind Jaehyun as soon as you entered. But it seems as if that wasn’t happening because all you had deciphered from the shop called Inkphoric was that it was built in a way not to scare the people who had gathered the courage to even stop foot in it.

The receptionist, she said her name was Nara, leads you both to a room in a corridor. Your hands are sweaty and thankfully she allows Jaehyun to go inside as well. When you’re seated on the chair comfortably, Jaehyun grabs a stool to sit beside you and you wait for the tattoo artist. The wait isn’t long because a minute later, a man who looks about your age is walking towards you all. His all black get-up matches the tattoos littering his arms and he also seems to have a piercing in his right ear, a silver dangling.

“Hello, I’m Lucas. I’ll be tattooing…” he introduces himself and looks between the two of you, silently asking which one of you he would be tattooing. Honestly, you would have expected him to at least know who he would be drawing on but quickly brush the thought off as you greet him, telling him that you would be the one getting the art onto her skin. He smiles cutely and nods, and you look at Jaehyun, his comforting smile relaxing your tense body.

Nara talks to Lucas for a minute or so and then walks off, shooting you an encouraging smile before closing the door behind her.

“So what is it that I’ll be tattooing onto you, ma’am?” Lucas speaks and you show him the image of the flower. Jaehyun is holding your left hand in his, the warmth seeping throughout your entire body and you’re grateful for Jae’s beautiful ability of being able to calm you down in only a matter of seconds- no matter how serious the situation would be.

“Oh, that’s very pretty.” “Thank you.” you smile at him, and he prepares his stuff. You’re pulling down the hem of your shirt slightly and exposing part of your left collarbone, where you want your collarbone.

Lucas says that he’s tracing the design out first and you wait patiently.

“Now, don’t be scared. It’s gonna hurt at first, especially at the bone but it will soon go away. You can hold your boyfriend’s hand.” he instructs and gives you an encouraging look as Jaehyun moves to your right to give Lucas space, his large hand completely enclosing yours.

“Okay, here goes…” the sound of the gun whirring to life fills the room that has tattoo designs filling the wall.

“Fuck!” your voice pierces through the air and you jolt from the sudden pain. It felt as if someone was impaling you with a sword- which was partly true- but they were doing it continuously. Jaehyun is shocked from your sudden movement and struggles to catch you in his arms. Lucas quickly tears the gun away from your neck and you whimper out, the pain searing through your entire being and Jaehyun tries shushing you, his attempts all going in vain.

Shitshitshit. This is torture. It’s only the first touch of the needle against your skin and you’re already this close to crying. How the fuck do people get those huge ass tattoos?! Trying your best to calm down and ignore the pain spreading throughout your entire being, you squeeze Jaehyun’s hand hard enough for it to pain but you don’t really care at this point, the throbbing of your collarbone enough to send you flying. He’s stood up from the stool by now, standing behind you.

“Okay..sorry sorry, you can continue.” you whisper out and clamp your lips shut so as to not let out any more weird noises. You’re sweating by the time Lucas gets the gun closer to you and bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood when the feeling of the needle pressing against your skin fills you up again.

Holy heck, I can’t do this.

Your face is an accurate representation of agony, your entire body tensing as Lucas tattoos your collarbone with his long hair slightly brushing against your neck. You try leaning your head back and lean against Jaehyun. He’s whispering soft comforting words as countless profanities leave your mouth and you feel sad for Lucas, having to hear the shit you were spewing.

“It’s alright, baby. Just think about other things, happy things.” your boyfriend pecks your cheek and hugs you lightly, trying not to disturb Lucas.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale inh-

“I think I just popped a boner.”

You gasp. Lucas chokes. He moves. You shriek.

“Ah, shit!” the gun’s needle scraped against your skin, it was all so sudden. The pain suddenly shoots throughout your entire body, tears filling your eyes. Nononono.

“Jesus! It’s paining too much!” you’re sobbing by now, Lucas is frantic and Jaehyun..well..he is burning. He’s too busy regretting all his choices to even notice what’s happening around him. Jaehyun bends down to fix his problem and emerges 5 minutes later, when you’re still twisting in torment. Everything is red, your lip being abused by your teeth in order to calm down.

“Y/n! Ma’am! I’m so sorry! Shit, no!” Lucas apologises and sprints over to get a cloth to wipe something you feel trickling down your chest now. Blood. You’re bleeding.

Writhing in agony in your seat, you clench your hands as if that would somehow reduce the sting, and pant, trying to relax. Your eyes are widened at an attempt of keeping it all in but the throbbing just doesn’t seem to dissipate.

Oh God…

Lucas is now carefully dabbing at the source of blood with panic written clearly all on his face. You look at Jaehyun through the ache to see that he is now coming back to reality and upon seeing your state, a gasp tears his throat and he’s looking at you with his eyes widened.

The distress prevents you from speaking properly but you manage to call out, “J-Jaehy..Jaehyun.” Said man is desperately looking between your blood gushing out and your face twisted in discomfort. He figures it out and as soon as he does, takes your whimpering form into his, murmuring endless apologies and if you could, you would stop him from saying that but the sting is still there, only lessening a tad bit.

It’s hell, trying to clean the blood away and getting it sorted out. You cried a bit during the process as well but you were perfectly entitled to do that, the gun had pierced your skin quite deep when Lucas had jolted upon hearing what Jae suddenly said.

30 minutes later, you’re hiccupping slightly and trying to breathe normally after the mad incident. Surprisingly, no one had come in during that time and you were thankful for that, not having wanted anybody to see the mess that had been caused because of Jaehyun’s unexpected confession. Speaking of which, you wince and turn around to look at him and when his eyes meet yours, ask him what he meant “What was that about you popping a boner?” the incredulity just hit you now and you wait for his response impatiently.

“Nothing babe...just forget it. I’m so sorry for saying it so randomly, though. I should’ve thought before speaking. I’m so careless.” the look on his face melts and you are about to pull him into your chest when you realise that you can’t.

The pain has subsided by now, it’s bearable and you turn to look at Lucas who- when he catches your gaze- immediately walks over to you and starts speaking. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry! That was so sudden and I messed up your tattoo. It’s all my fault, please forgive me if possible.” he looks scared, and you understand why. He probably thinks you’ll sue him or something but you weren’t planning on doing anything of the sort. “It’s alright Lucas. I’m also not gonna tell anyone. We’ll just tell everyone that as soon as the gun touched me, I chickened out and told you to stop.” you keep your hand on his head that’s bowed and he looks up. There are tears brimming his eyes and you don’t know if it’s out of fear or the fact that he genuinely feels terrible for what he did. It really wasn’t his fault anywhere though. You didn’t understand why he was so stressed.

“I’m sorry Lucas, I just said something stupid without even thinking before. You don’t need to take nay of the blame.” Jaehyun’s voice fills the room and Lucas’ features relax a little before he smiles forcefully. “Well, if your cuts get better, then maybe I can continue the design?” he jokes and you laugh along, knowing all too well that you wouldn’t be coming here again. Your first tattoo and this had happened.

“So do you wanna tell me about that boner-popping now? Lucas isn’t even here.” you’re sitting at the dining table, having just finished your dinner with empty bowls of pasta in front of each of you. Jaehyun shifts slightly in his seat and you wonder if you made him uncomfortable, although you don’t understand why- the reason couldn’t have been that bad. As soon as you start to backtrack, Jaehyun’s voice is heard.

“Well..just..you know when you were getting the tattoo?” you nod slightly “Lucas was just, his black clothes..and he was bending over and I don’t know. You were whimpering..” “So the scene was too hot and you popped a boner?” you complete his sentence and he meekly nods before you’re howling with laughter, almost falling iff the chair and forgetting about the pain around your collarbone. The bisexual in Jaehyun was showing and he was afraid to admit it, you don’t now why. He had told you about this when you started dating, and you were totally fine with it, because you knew that he wouldn’t cheat on you.

“Hey..” your boyfriend half-heartedly attempts to stop you but you’re too far gone to realise that he may be feeling bad. When your laughing fit is over, though, you look at him for any trace of sadness but are relieved to see that he’s only blushing lightly, his dimples showing when he smiles.

“So, do you wanna get a tattoo now?” the answer is obvious, given the fact that today did not go as planned. You’re surprised when he answers.

“I don’t think so. My body is a shrine and a tattoo will take away its chastity.”

“Shrine indeed.”

Ty for reading! Yes lmao ik the ending is weird asf, as is the entire story, but nvm

Feedback is always appreciated!

this was supposed to be a drabble for jae’s birthday 😭excuse the typos they’re terrible and i’m literally the most impatient living being you’ll ever encounter

also, the shop name lmao i just got it from google- not creative i know

Tagging: @neoculturedtrash , @jeongjeffrey , @orange-lemon-cross , @nanasimp , @bluejaem

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jeffrey #nct #nct 127 #tattoo #reader #jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun #nct ff #nct 127 ff #jaehyun ff #jae ff #jaehyun fluff #jae fluff #y/n #neo culture technology #jaehyun jung #please excuse the shitty header

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jenivi7 · 3 years

Text

First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE! Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories!

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses.

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch."

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not.

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time." Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention. He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board. "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.)

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written!

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3

#ygo #yu-gi-oh #yugioh #yugioh fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #jenific #so many ships #so many characters like woah #not half bad for a retrospective if i do say so myself #thank you for coming to my ted talk #tag game #first lines tag

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Note

Din gets a badly broken arm in a fight and now begrudgingly needs help in the shower.

Okay but I’m just picturing a little grumpy Mando and it has me just 🥺 So…this was mostly soft, but…includes a lot of unspoken feelings, so there’s a little ~spice~ included…but ~soft spice~

Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Are you gonna be okay?” you looked at Din with a raised eyebrow as he gave you a nod, accompanied by a groan. He swung his legs over the small cot, stopping before standing up. You knew he was holding back a sound of pain even if he wouldn’t admit it.

He’d come back to the Razor Crest a few nights before, after a particularly difficult bounty, broken, battered, and bleeding, limping his way onto the ship. You’d run to him immediately, doing your best to help to his bed and attend him. Maybe you weren’t the best warrior or bounty hunter, but you were a good healer.

So you did your job, slowly and meticulously doing your best to heal him, using everything could you find. You had slowly peeled off all his armor, stripping him down to only his underclothes. You thought about removing the helmet, maker knows you did, both to make sure he was okay and partly because you were curious, so, so curious to finally meet the man underneath.

But you could never do that to him; he trusted you and you trusted him. You respected him above all. When you had reached his shoulders and noticed your moment of pause, he had quietly insisted that his head was fine.

Once you had were reassured that he was going to he okay, that he had retained no head injuries, you relaxed a little. Tending to the rest of his injuries was fairly simple, there cuts and gashes, but those were quickly healed with some bacta spray and patches. That was until you got to his arm anyway. His arm was another story.

“It’s broken,” you had told him, trying your best to give him the news. He wouldn’t be happy, you knew it would hinder him until it helped and he was not one to just sick around. There was a lot you could do and fix, but broken bones was not one of them.

“What!?” he had almost shouted as you grimaced and tried to give him a small smile, “I can’t-”

“I’m sorry, Din,” you put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. You’d set it as best as you could, but you had a feeling the makeshift cast wouldn’t last long, “I did the best I could, but you’ll have to be very careful. It’s the humerus and it’s got a good break, but its clean. You’ll need to leave it so it can heal. And I’m being serious. If you don’t leave it, it won’t heal.”

“How long?” there was already a defeated tone in his voice as he hung his head in defeat. You wished you could take his pain away, to be the one in his position, but all you could do now was to try and help him.

“Five to six weeks,” you said quietly and his head snapped back up in your direction, “listen, I know that sounds like a lot, but it’ll go by fast. And I’ll help you every step of the way.”

“I can’t-”

“Din,” you put your hands in of shoulders, keeping your touch extra gentle, “I know it’s hard for you, but please try and listen to someone else for once…”

“That’s so much time-”

“And it’s gonna be even longer if you don’t listen-”

“What am I supposed to-”

“I will handle it-”

"I can work with it broken-”

“Din Djarin!” the sound of his full name spilling from your lips was even to capture his attention. He’d even heard you say it like that before. He’d never heard someone say it as a wonderfully as you before. It sent a tingle throughout his entire body, “please just listen to me. As soon that truly cares about you, take it easy and rest it.”

“Okay,” he finally said after a few moments of staring back and through at each other. You didn’t need to be able to see his eyes to know that they were focused on you. You didn’t see the warm flush that spread over his cheeks though, how he was practically putty in your hands.

»»————-　♡　————-««

After several days of tending to him, you’d finally gotten a moment for yourself. You were worn down to say the least; taking care of a wounded Mandalorian and your small green companion would do that to someone.

Din was doing better now, much better, so you decided it was time to get some rest yourself. You’d managed to change into some clean night clothes when you heard the sound of crashing, banging, and a slew of crushes from the refresher. Your instincts had you up and running to the noise in just a few moments. You pushed when you came to the conclusion that it was Din, in the mainstream.

You raised your hand and hesitated for a moment before knocking, “D-din? Are you okay?”

“Yes…I…” he trailed off and just before you were about to go back and try and chase some sleep, he added, “I can’t wash my hair properly. My arm.”

“Oh,” your whole body was on fire as you realized what that meant. You cursed yourself for letting mind immediately wondering what he looked like, rather than worry about his arm. The weak human part of you couldn’t help it.

“Could…do you think…” a heavy sigh came from him and you smiled lightly, almost bemused by his slight frustration, “do you think you can help me?”

“Help you,” holy shit.

“Just to wash my hair,” his response was quiet and your mind quickly raced with a million thoughts. He noticed your silence and if he was being honest, he was just as nervous as you, “Y/N?”

“Din-”

“I trust you,” those words were everything. You knew he did, that he was being honest, but hearing it out loud? That was a whole different story, “if you’re okay with it.”

“I can help,” of course you would. You’d have helped him with absolutely anything, “I’m going to come in.”

He mumbled an affirmative response and you slowly, timidly opened the door and stepped inside, enveloped by a could of steam from the hot water. You walked over to him, and he slowly opened the door to the sanistream. It took everything in your power not to immediately look him all over.

But the look on his face, a mixture of many things: nerves, pain, tiredness, angst, said it all. Despite all that, you were sure there was a little smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. How often he’d dreamed of this moment, to get to see you so completely as you now got to see him. It never involved this exact scenario however.

The moment you met his eyes, soft velvety brown even better than you had imagined, you were done for. His face? The thick dark locks? The little of patchy stubble? The pouty lips? You were done, done, done.

You finally managed to recover, hoping you weren’t being too obvious when you stuck out your hand for the shampoo, catching yourself and closing your eyes, “you can look, it’s okay. And a little late to worry now. I trust you.”

“Okay,” you nodded as you took the shampoo he handed you, making quick work of squeezing it into your hand and washing his hair. It was an almost laughable situation, you in your pajamas in the shower with a broken Mandalorian, doing your best to be gentle with him. But despite it all, it was a special moment, intimate. You knew things would be different from now. They had to be.

When you had finished helping him wash his hair, you took a step back, not quite sure what to do. You took a step away from him, keeping your eyes peeled up and clearing your throat. He glanced at you, his gaze thankful, as you smiled back at him, “thank you for your help. I…appreciate all of your help. Always.”

“Don’t even mention it,” you nodded, trying to memorize every little bit of features as you studied him, all the freckles, the small crinkles at the corners of his eyes, “you know I’ll always help you. Are you going to be okay from here?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “take the towel, you’re soaking wet. I didn’t even think about that. I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” you nodded, “I needed to shower anyways, I’ll just wait until you’re done, take all the time you need.”

“You can come in,” he blurted out before he could stop himself, and both of you looked at each other in surprise. He had actually said that. But, in reality it wasn’t a surprise to either of you, this had been a long time coming. For both of you; there was a lot of buildup and it had to break eventually. This was it, “I mean, you’re already here. And just save water…and it’s just-”

“Yes,” you agreed as your nervously brought your shaky hands to your top to start pulling it off. You were nervous, but this didn’t feel wrong, this wasn’t scary. This felt right.

He watched you intently, but it didn’t feel like he was prying. It felt natural; normal.

Before you knew it, you were back in the shower, standing next to him, letting the hot water cascade all over your tired body. After a small bit of silence, when you reached for the shampoo yourself, he reached over and took it in his good hand. You raised an eyebrow at him, “here, let me.”

“Your arm…”

“I’ve got one good arm,” he insisted gently, “please let me.”

“Positive?”

“Positive.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #dyn jarren #dyn jarren x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #reader insert #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #requests #soft sunday

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aeondeug · 3 years

Text

So Kentaro Miura died. This hurts a lot, honestly. The man’s work means a lot to me, because it’s helped me get through very tough times. And still does. Few things have ever hit me as hard or stayed with me as much as the end of the Conviction Arc. And I’ve seen some others come out and say similar over the years.

I have also seen plenty say that Berserk is nothing but grimdark misery, and some say that they understand the idea but feel the misery is in excess. Which I can understand. This is a comic with a character the fanbase calls Rape Horse, after all, and he is but one of many such horrors. The sex and gore are pumped up quite high in Berserk. And the circumstances people live in are atrocious and seemingly without any hope. It reaches a point where many ask “Is this necessary?” And when certain kinds of suffering, such as sexual assault, are just displayed in the open without metaphor many more ask “Is this necessary?”

Which is fair and I don’t blame anyone whose answer is “No, it is not.” Berserk can be a hard read. My answer to the question isn’t a “No” though it is a “Yes”. And the reason for why that is falls into two things both focused around what kind of story Berserk is: a story about The Struggler.

My life has been hard. It has sucked. That’s been a pretty recurring thing with the books and such that I talk about a lot here. Life has been cruel to me from the get go and it did not let up at all until I was 25. And even then It’s still hard. I can escape my family, but I can’t escape the system I live inside so easily. Nor can I escape that fact that I’ve been left with wounds that make me a frightened prickly pear of a person. Life has been hard. It has been defined by fighting and struggling.

So then we have Berserk. With its world that is just covered in monsters that run about rampantly and destroying shit. And it’s not just your typical fantasy violence either. It is excruciatingly detailed fantasy violence. There is blood and viscera everywhere. And it’s not just sudden deaths. Sometimes there aren’t even deaths. Sometimes people are just straight up tortured and we get to look at the aftermath of that. Even before the whole monster apocalypse thing there was nigh constant warring. This is not a happy world to be born in. It’s not a happy world to live in. And there’s just so much unhappiness, in such excess, so much of the time.

Which I think helps capture the feel of life for a person like me. I mentioned the Conviction Arc and how it’s gotten me through tough things. I have never lived through something like that. And while a good chunk of the horrors in it are things people have lived through and do live through, the whole monster apocalypse thing is not. And even before that aforementioned monster apocalypse thing, things suck really fucking hard. But the monster apocalypse thing is so much worse.

...and it’s just one thing that is but a blip on the road compared to Griffith. Mozgus is horrifying and strong, and he’s just fucking chump change compared to the actual end boss. Everyone almost dies, several people do die, and the entire situation is just so completely fucked. And that’s just ONE step in the road. A weird monster filled murder field generated by an egg is just ONE thing. But even that one step is filled with gore and misery and weirdness in excess. It’s filled with misery and terror in excess. It does not relent. Not until the festival is over.

That sort of fantastical pushing it to eleven thing is important. Because while I might have literally lived through the festival, I have lived through things that have felt like the festival. I’ve lived through things that I will confidently describe as being like Hell and I have felt fucking awful. So awful that really the one solace I had is that I lived at all. By cramming so much awful into such a tight space and keeping that awfulness density going for as long as he did, Miura managed to capture that feeling. And he presented something deeply important: the idea that you can survive. Perhaps you still have more work to go. Much more. But you lived and sometimes just living is enough.

This is the fantastical though. We now have to ask, “Ok but why the kinds of horrors in particular?” The use of rape in particular, even just the threat of it, in gets a lot of flak and I do understand why. That’s diving into very uncomfortable territory for a lot of people. And we are left to wonder if it’s strictly necessary.

For many it’s not. For many it’s the opposite of necessary. And what is necessary is not doing that and not even threatening it. This is fair. I will never begrudge someone not reading the comic because of this.

For me it is necessary, though. Because sexual abuse is a thing that exists. A thing that I’ve known about personally for a very, very long time. Every time I go through my life, I find new weird fucked up things to tack onto the list. I do not feel like talking about it in public beyond that I have a long, personal history with sexual abuse. And which I am still actively unpacking and likely will be for a very long time.

So like Rape Horse is horrifying. I kind of fucking hate him actually. He is legitimately one of the worst things I have ever seen. But he’s important. Farnese’s run in with him is important. Because, yes, he is a magical demon horse that talks and that’s fantastical. But what is happening is not fantastical. It is horrifyingly not so. It’s something that happens. And it’s just. There. On the one hand, it is obscured partly and made viewable by me by way of it being a magical demon horse. On the other hand, it is out in the open what is going to be done to Farnese.

And I can look at it. I can choose not to look at it. If I don’t want it there, it doesn’t have to be anymore. I can close the comic. It is only there if I want it to be and if I choose to look. And sometimes I do choose to look by reading the comic. Which is important. Because I get to choose at all.

And seeing it just in the open is important too. Because I get to process it. I get to face it as what it is. While also still having the comforting smokescreen that it is a magical demon horse that cannot actually exist and also that the very nice man with a big sword is going to fucking kill him. But I get to process an awful thing by seeing the awful thing in a safe space. Which I desperately need.

Berserk in general is just something I desperately need. I needed it years back even before I got to where I currently am. As the years go on and I work through recovery, I’m likely going to need it more and more. Because recovery’s fucking hard. It fucking sucks. Sometimes it feels even harder than the just surviving. Sometimes it feels inevitably doomed to failure. It’s hard and it’s a struggle.

But if Guts can go through the shit he has and still get up and still make friends then so can I. If he can keep struggling, then so can I. If he can make what progress he has, then I can make that and then some. And that’s what Berserk just is to me. This hopeful thing about life sucking so fucking much, but refusing to give up. This weird thing where the world can be so ugly, but also beautiful and tender. And those beautiful things are worth struggling for. Even if so much of the rest is just awful.

And I’m grateful that Miura could give me this thing. It wasn’t a gift meant for me in particular. It was a comic he wanted to make and he made it how he wanted to make it. But by getting it out there he gave it to me and all the others out there like me who need this sort of thing. He gave the branded and strugglers out there a story to cling to when they need. And that means the world.

Thank you, Miura-sensei.

#berserk #rape #tw: rape

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ibijau · 4 years

Text

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

The war ends, the boys get married, life is good

final chapter of the story y’all!! I am... more than a little emotional TAT Thanks to everyone who followed this story, and reblogged it, and extra special thanks to those people who chatted in the tags because honestly that made my day each time TAT This fic has been a fucking adventure and I wouldn’t have managed without y’all reading it TAT

Nothing has changed. Nie Huaisang is engaged to Lan Xichen, as he already was. He’s in love with Lan Xichen, as he already was. Lan Xichen loves him which… he wasn’t sure of, but he had strong suspicions about that, so it’s not exactly new either.

Everything is still the same.

Everything is different, because Nie Huaisang wakes up to strong arms holding him, to his face pressed against warm skin, to tangled legs, to a dozen proofs that he didn’t dream, that Lan Xichen is still alive, that they are in love, that they’re going to marry not because they were ordered to, but because they want it. Nie Huaisang grins to himself, giddy with happiness after months of bleakness.

When Lan Xichen too wakes up, Nie Huaisang sees his joy mirrored on his fiancé’s face and he has to kiss him once, and twice, and enough times that he starts losing count, his mind empty of anything but the happiness of knowing Lan Xichen is there with him.

They were good last night, both of them too exhausted to do more than fall in bed and quickly drift to sleep as they clung to each other, but that was last night. This morning Nie Huaisang doesn’t see any reason to be so well behaved. It’s not unwelcome anyway. Lan Xichen doesn’t protest or stop him as his kisses grow more insistent, nor when his hands start wandering and caressing in a way they never got to before, exploring the warm skin hidden by Lan Xichen’s inner clothes. Nie Huaisang starts pressing biting kisses down his fiancé’s throat and playing with the hem of his pants, just as a suggestion for Lan Xichen to take or reject.

A knock on the door interrupts what otherwise promised to be the best morning Nie Huaisang ever spent in the Cloud Recesses. Even like this it’s tempting to ignore this unwanted visitor, until they hear Lan Qiren’s voice, threatening to enter if they don’t answer.

Lan Xichen throws an arm over his eyes and sighs deeply, as if this exact moment is the very worst thing he’s ever gone through.

“I’ll be here in a moment, uncle!” he announces as loud as he can without breaking even more rules, before dropping his arm to smile weakly at Nie Huaisang. “I’ll probably be leaving the Cloud Recesses after talking with uncle but… I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

Just like that, reality creeps back into Nie Huaisang’s perfect little bubble of happiness. There’s still a war out there. The people he loves are all alive for now, but that can change at any moment.

Nie Huaisang curls up on himself as he sits up, unable to so much as look at Lan Xichen now. All of this could end at any moment, the Wens could return to the Cloud Recesses this very instant and slaughter them like they did to Lotus Piers, or they might catch Lan Xichen alone later and kill him then, or he’ll disappear like Wei Wuxian and never be found, or fall in battle, or…

He feels movement on the mattress as Lan Xichen too sits up, his fiancé’s hands on his, trying to catch his attention, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin. Nie Huaisang refuses to look and wants to tear his hands away. Everything felt so good and perfect earlier, but now…

“Give me a second,” Lan Xichen asks, dropping a careful kiss on his forehead before getting off from the bed.

Instead of getting dressed as Nie Huaisang expects, Lan Xichen walks directly to the door, barefoot and in nothing but his inner clothes. Shocked out of his bout of misery, Nie Huaisang looks up as his fiancé exchanges a few words with Lan Qiren, demanding further delay before coming to talk about whatever he’s needed for. Although Lan Qiren is hidden from his eyes Nie Huaisang can tell he’s not happy about this whole situation, and yet Lan Xichen doesn’t back down. Nie Huaisang can’t quite catch what they’re saying, but he can tell when Lan Xichen wins the argument, closing the door again with a satisfied smile. A little puzzled over what happened, Nie Huaisang tries to leave the bed as well (there’s so much to do, there’s always so much to do) but Lan Xichen stops him with a gesture as he starts searching among the clothes he so carefully folded last night.

“Sit down,” Lan Xichen asks, pulling his xiao from its qiankun bag. “I’ll play for you.”

Nie Huaisang quickly obeys. He doesn’t even need to ask what Lan Xichen intends to play, though he feels embarrassed that his mood was so obvious. His only defence is that nobody has really paid attention to that since he arrived in the Cloud Recesses, and so he’s stopped trying to hide… but Lan Xichen isn’t just anybody, of course he noticed.

“Don’t you have important things to do?” Nie Huaisang mumbles as he gets in a meditative position on the bed.

“This is important too,” Lan Xichen replies without hesitation. “Uncle can wait. And when I talk to him, I’ll tell him that you might need that song played to you. I can’t solve everything that’s wrong in our lives at the moment, A-Sang, but this… this I can do, and I will.”

Even the song doesn’t solve everything, no more than it did the times before. But like before, Nie Huaisang at least finds that his terror and distress are a little less sharp after and when Lan Xichen has to go, Nie Huaisang can kiss him and say goodbye and truly hope that they’ll see each other again soon.

It surprises Nie Huaisang a little when Lan Qiren does, in fact, start playing that soothing song for him once a week. He doesn’t think his fiancé’s uncle likes him much, partly due to some of the mischief he got up to as a student, partly because his failure to pass at the end of his first year must be a stain on the teacher’s career. And yet Lan Qiren plays that music for him, simply because Lan Xichen asked him to, and slowly Nie Huaisang finds himself dealing with things a little better.

Away from the Cloud Recesses, the war continues. Nie Huaisang starts paying more attention to that. Most of what reaches him is nothing but gossip of course, but whenever Lan Xichen comes home to discuss the situation with his uncle, Nie Huaisang gets to be there and to find out what’s true. So far, it seems that the wildest rumours are usually the ones closest to the truth.

Like when Wei Wuxian is found alive, refusing to say where he’s spent the last three months or how he’s suddenly a master in a brand new form of cultivation that he might have invented while he was gone. From what Lan Xichen says, and the letters from Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan he passes on to Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian’s new powers are nothing short of terrifying, and this alone should shorten the war. They’re all worried about him though. Jiang Cheng in particular, every time he writes, does that thing of his where he gets angry to avoid showing he’s sad. Something happened to Wei Wuxian, and it has changed him.

Another big rumour is about a new Qinghe Nie disciple named Meng Yao. Nie Huaisang never gets the whole story until after the war, but what he hears during it is this: this young man, this boy really since he’s roughly the same age as Nie Huaisang, somehow rose to become Nie Mingjue’s second-in-command for a few weeks, then was welcomed into Lanling Jin because apparently he’s actually one of Jin Guangshan’s many, many bastards, and Jin Zixuan has decided to help out his half-siblings if he can. Only that backfires when this Meng Yao fellow just murders a Jin commander, right in front of Nie Mingjue, and escapes to maybe join Qishan Wen. Only it later turns out that Meng Yao has gone there with Jin Zixuan’s blessing to be a double agent, one who saves Nie Mingjue’s life when he is captured (although the details of how, exactly, he saves his former employer’s life seem to have provoked some argument between them) and he’s the one who kills Wen Ruohan, ending the war, and…

And so, the war is over.

The sons of a servant and of a prostitute shorten it by months, by years even perhaps. Wei Wuxian is acclaimed for the victories he’s won on the battlefield. Meng Yao, soon given the courtesy name Jin Ziyao by Jin Zixuan, earns his place in the family in which his father apparently never wanted him to join. From what Nie Huaisang hears, Madam Jin is not particularly happy about this development, but cannot object when Jin Zixuan, Lan Xichen and even Nie Mingjue points out all that Jin Ziyao has done for the Sunshot Campaign.

The war is over.

It is over, and they won.

Because mourning periods must be observed, it is still another few months before Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen can marry. In the meanwhile Nie Huaisang goes back to the Unclean Realm where there is much work to be done.

It is odd to be back there, knowing when he leaves it again, it will be for good. Without anyone to play music for him Nie Huaisang falls into occasional bouts of melancolia again, but months of Lan Qiren playing for him seemed to have healed him enough that his mood never really got as bad as it used to, or at least never for long. It also helps that there is so much to do. New territories to be assessed, war prisoners to check on, debt to pay, the wounded to heal, the wedding to prepare…

Then suddenly, Lan Xichen’s mourning is over, and the wedding is there.

Nie Huaisang feels nearly dizzy on his last day in the Unclean Realm, as Nie Mingjue and Nie Zonghui help him pack the last of his possessions. His whole life now lies in a dozen wooden chests. His fans, his paintings, his best robes, all his brushes, his books. It feels so little, and it feels so much. It’s terrifying that everything is about to change, and it is just as scary the intensity with which Nie Huaisang craves that change. He has barely seen Lan Xichen since the end of the war but they’ve written to each other as often as they’ve been able to and it only strengthened Nie Huaisang’s conviction that this is what he wants for his future.

He wants this.

He still spends most of that last night cuddling his brother who is just as emotional about seeing him leave. There might be a few tears spilled, although Nie Mingjue firmly denies it. Nie Huaisang teases him about, because Nie Mingjue thinks he’s so tough now that he’s the oldest leader among the Great Sects and he has a title, but really he’s still as much of a brat as Nie Huaisang himself.

Even if things are good with Lan Xichen, it’s a relief of sorts when Nie Mingjue promises his brother that should things go wrong, he’ll always have his place in the Unclean Realm, that it will always be home, even if he’s making a new one in the Cloud Recesses.

“Even if things go bad because I’m the one messing up?” Nie Huaisang.

“Yes, you brat. It’s an unconditional promise. I don’t think you could mess up badly enough to make him give up on you at this point, though. He’s stupidly in love, which shows even the best education can’t give you taste.”

Nie Huaisang pinches his brother for that remark, which soon turns into a playfight like they haven’t done in years. Nie Huaisang is proud of himself for holding his own pretty well, though he still ends up having to yield.

It’s a little weird to walk around with that veil on his face, but the Lan elders insisted that it would be a break of tradition for Nie Huaisang not to have it. Lan Xichen negotiated for it to be a more translucent veil than usual so that they both get to enjoy the ceremony. Initially Nie Huaisang was somewhat indifferent on the matter, but now he’s glad both that he can see what’s around him, and that he doesn’t have to bother about hiding his emotions.

He almost cries when Lan Xichen helped him down the sedan. His fiancé looks amazing in red and gold, it accentuates his jade skin, his ink black hair. Lan Xichen is always handsome but like this he is breathtaking. Nie Huaisang is so distracted that he almost falls on the ground as he gets down from the sedan, only to be rescued in time by Lan Xichen.

“It’s becoming a habit,” Lan Xichen chuckles against his ear as he helps him on his feet.

“I guess I just can’t help falling for you,” Nie Huaisang retorts.

There’s no veil on Lan Xichen’s face to hide the way he blushes, how he looks at Nie Huaisang in wonder, as if even now he can’t quite believe this is real, and… Nie Huaisang’s heart speeds up because he loves him so much, they are getting married, and maybe he’s also having trouble realising it’s all real. He just wants all this stupid ceremonial to be over already so they can take those damn bows and just be together already.

Of course, that’s too much to ask. A sect leader’s marriage is too important an event to be rushed, and the Lans love their traditions too much. There’s a dozen steps to follow before they can go to the ancestral hall to take their bows before their guests, and even when they get there, Lan Qiren has to delay everything by starting a long winded lecture about their duties and what marriage means in Gusu Lan.

Nie Huaisang’s attention starts drifting away about ten words in, and hidden by his veil, he takes the chance to look around at the assembly.

The first face he spots, mostly because he’s so stupidly tall, is Nie Mingjue who looks like he’s trying hard not to cry. Of course to anyone who doesn’t know him that might pass as a scowl, but… Nie Huaisang knows better. His brother can act as stern as he likes, he’s a sap. Jin Ziyao, standing next to Nie Mingjue, has the smile of someone who also knows what his former employer’s expression really means, which makes Nie Huaisang grin. Things are a little tense still between those two, but everyone agrees that with a little more time, they might get back to the good relationship they briefly had during the war, when they worked together.

Not far from these two, Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan are standing together, whispering quietly under Wei Wuxian's suspicious gaze and Jiang Cheng's resigned one. Something happened during the war, which Nie Huaisang is still trying to get the full story for. Some business about soup that Jiang Yanli made for her former fiancé, only for an ambitious servant girl to take the credit. If Jiang Cheng hadn't happened to notice that soup during a visit to Jin Zixuan and explained the truth, things might have gone bad. Instead, Jin Zixuan ended up thanking Jiang Yanli for what he apparently called ‘the best part of his days’ (Jiang Cheng reported this to Nie Huaisang with a grimace) and they started chatting whenever they had time for it. It is now almost certain that these two will resume their engagement when their own mourning is over.

Wei Wuxian is not happy about that. In fairness, he's not happy about much these days. Jiang Cheng is getting pretty anxious about what happened to his adopted brother while he was gone, as is Lan Wangji. Nie Huaisang hasn't been able to do much on that subject, all the way up in Qinghe, but he's determined to get the truth into the light now that he'll be closer. If nothing else, maybe that soothing song which helped Nie Huaisang will do Wei Wuxian some good as well. He'll start throwing the idea around next month, when he goes to Lotus Piers for that brotherhood oath that Jiang Cheng has demanded to take with Nie Huaisang.

"A-Sang," Lan Xichen whispers, low enough others shouldn't hear. "Pay attention, it's almost time."

Hunching his shoulders, Nie Huaisang feels grateful for the veil that hides how he blushes at being caught like this. Lan Xichen doesn't seem upset though, clearly knowing the effect his uncle's lecture can have on others.

When finally Lan Qiren finishes his drawn out speech, Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen step forward. Lan Xichen undoes the white ribbon on his forehead, and together their tie it around their wrists before taking their three bows. When they stand up for the final time, it's done.

They are married.

Nie Huaisang’s hands start trembling from the shock of that realisation. He has spent nearly half his life waiting for this moment, either with dread or anticipation, and it's over now. They are married. If he could, if it weren't a breach of tradition and decorum, Nie Huaisang would kiss his husband right now. Lan Xichen looks down at him with such wonder on his face that he knows it wouldn't be unwelcome.

There’s still more stupid ceremonies and traditions to go through before that. Nie Huaisang bears with it as patiently as he can until finally, finally it is time for them to retire from the ceremony and go to their new home. Nie Huaisang doesn’t pay attention to anything on the way there, except for the warm sensation of Lan Xichen’s hand in his and the way his husband can’t stop smiling, how gorgeous he is like that.

When the door closes behind them, when they are alone at last, Nie Huaisang feels so nervous and excited that he’s sure he must be vibrating from it. He wants to tear away that stupid veil and just kiss Lan Xichen already, but through an immense effort of self-control, he doesn’t.

“Won’t my husband uncover me?” he asks, delighting in the way Lan Xichen blushes at the word, the slight gasp he can’t contain, the way he smiles as if this is the best day of his life, as if nothing in the world could be better than this exact moment.

“If my husband wishes,” Lan Xichen replies, which sends Nie Huaisang’s heart racing and his cheeks burn.

He’ll have to tell Lan Xichen not to call him that too much, because the embarrassment might kill him. He’ll have to tell him to say the word husband over and over again, because he loves the way it sounds in Lan Xichen’s voice.

Before anything else, Lan Xichen undoes the knot on the ribbon that tie their wrists, gently tying it again on Nie Huaisang’s arm in a gesture that feels almost too intimate. Then, with great care, Lan Xichen takes the hem of Nie Huaisang’s veil and slowly lifts it, revealing his face. Nie Huaisang knows he probably doesn’t look like much at the moment, he’s blushing so much, and his eyes must be red as well from trying not to cry, and he’s grinning like a fool. But Lan Xichen must like what he sees because as soon as the veil is out of the way, he lowers his hands to Nie Huaisang’s cheeks and pulls him into a kiss, as if he cannot wait a second more, as if he too has been biding his time all day.

Nie Huaisang half laughs into the kiss, too giddy to contain himself, and throws his arms around his husband’s neck to keep him close, as close as they can be.

They are married, and Nie Huaisang never thought it was possible to feel so happy.

It’s still mostly dark when Nie Huaisang opens his eyes again and half panics because he can’t breathe right. He struggles and kicks until he can free himself, only to hear a discontent grunt and be pulled back into a tight embrace.

As his eyes get used to the meagre light and his brain continues waking up, Nie Huaisang realises where he is and relaxes. This unfamiliar room is his own now. That tight embrace is his husband's, who even in sleep can't seem to let him go. Nie Huaisang chuckles quietly at the idea, wondering if anyone else would ever guess how clingy Lan Xichen, the mighty Zewu-Jun, can be in private.

Clingy doesn't even begin to cut it. Last night was… well, Nie Huaisang has no complaints about that. He used to think that his married life would be a cold one, but that clearly won't be the case. Lan Xichen is, to put it mildly, very enthusiastic about marital activities, and Nie Huaisang can't wait to show him some of his more private books to give him a few ideas on how to use all that enthusiasm. Even just like this though, being together was better than Nie Huaisang expected. Of course his only basis for comparison is that afternoon with Jin Zixuan. It's funny how different last night felt. It was mostly the same acts, but with this much pent up emotion behind them, driven by desire rather than just curiosity…

So far, married life is pretty good.

If he could, Nie Huaisang would go back to sleep. It’s awfully early, they’ve had a long day yesterday, and today promises to be longer still, with more celebrations they’ll have to take part in. Sleep, however, eludes him. There’s too much to think about, too much novelty. After trying for a while to close his eyes and wait, Nie Huaisang gives up and decides to just leave the bed.

That’s easier said than done. Lan Xichen really is clingy, and he’s stronger than anyone has any reasonable excuse to be, so it’s a struggle to escape him and not be caught back. Nie Huaisang manages in the end, and makes a mental note to tease his husband about it later.

For now, he dresses up and takes a moment to wander a bit around the house. Their house. He hasn’t had a chance to see it before. It used to be Lan Xichen’s father’s house, and since it was left relatively untouched by the fire, it’s theirs now.

In his letters, Lan Xichen has somewhat hinted that he isn’t too happy with this state of affairs and would have preferred to live nearly anywhere else in the Cloud Recesses. A sect leader must have a house worthy of his rank though, and the circumstances make it difficult to justify building a new one. Maybe in some years, when everything else has stabilised… until then, they’ll make do with this. Nie Huaisang is intent on decorating this place and leaving his mark everywhere. Lan Xichen, so far, hasn’t explained why it upsets him to have anything in common with his father, but it doesn’t matter. If Lan Xichen is upset, then Nie Huaisang will do his best to distract him from it.

As the night gets lighter, Nie Huaisang quickly explores a few rooms. This one will make a great office for Lan Xichen, that one needs to be tidied but could be used by Nie Huaisang to paint because the light in it must be perfect during the day. Here to see guests, there to welcome family and friends… there are even rooms that could be great for children, when they decide how to deal with that.

Dawn is fast approaching when Nie Huaisang gets to the house’s entrance. He’s tempted to go for a walk, even if technically that’s a break of curfew. Hopefully, being the sect leader’s husband gives him a few special rights.

He only makes it through the door of the Hanshi before he has to stop in his tracks. There, in front of the house, there’s an old tree to which he barely paid attention yesterday when he came in. Now, he can’t take his eyes off of it.

On the branch of that tree hangs a bird-feeder.

Not only that, but there’s a few sparrows enjoying breakfast in the first ray of the sun, chattering between themselves and fighting for the best seeds. It’s nothing much, it’s just sparrows, but Nie Huaisang feels himself grinning at the sight. It’s just sparrows, and wild ones at that, but they’re his birds, his husband’s way of making him feel at home and he could almost cry from how emotional that’s making him.

All thoughts of a walk gone, Nie Huaisang sits on the porch of his home, watching his birds.

Then, because life is good, before very long he hears some ruffling behind him. The sparrows freeze for a second at the noise, a few even flying away, but most quickly go back to their feast as Lan Xichen sits down right behind Nie Huaisang, covering both of them with a blanket before wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist.

“You were gone,” Lan Xichen sleepily mutters, just a hint of reproach as he buries his face in the crook of Nie Huaisang’s neck.

“But you found me. Is it okay to stay here a bit?”

In answer Lan Xichen shrugs and vaguely grumbles, already relaxing against Nie Huaisang’s back, as if he’s already falling asleep again. Nie Huaisang bites his lips not to laugh, not wanting to scare the birds or wake his poor tired husband again. He puts his hands on Lan Xichen’s and leans into the embrace, a wide smile on his lips.

Life is good, and he can’t wait to see what awaits the two of them.

#xisang #worst engagement au #jau writes #I have a LOT of emotions right now fuck #125K in two months like wtf???#how did this happen?#It happened because people were kind that's how it happened!!#also I'll probably revisit this AU in the future because I still have some unfilled prompts that sound fun!!#but for now wow it's over and that's just... a big feeling

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kill-for-cookies · 4 years

Text

Be for you

Dhawan!Doctor x Reader

Summary: On your first week at work, your boss called you. You felt a little thrill. And not by accident...

Words: 3446

Note: I’m not a big fan of Doctor x Reader relationship (I think, my works show it clearly), but Dhawan!Doctor... He’s just cute and soft boy. He deserves more love. Hope, you enjoy it!

--------------------------------------------------- Who would have thought that on the first week at work (after traveling with the Doctor) you would be standing in front of this door? In front of your boss' door. You weren't exactly jumping for joy.

You didn't dare knock on the door. Your hand stopped halfway. It was so unusual. You weren't at work for a long time, because your adventures with the Doctor lasted for two months without a break.

Although that was in the past now. You must return from the stars to Earth. Your schedule just required a few corrections. For example, cross out saving planets from monsters and add a daily boring, completely normal work. Easier to say than do.

"You wanted to see me?" you hesitantly and shyly knocked on the door and looked into the office.

"Yes, come in, Y/N."

Now you were inside. It was a nice office. There was a lot of wood here. Walls, table, bookcases. In addition, there was nothing extra. Mr. Peterson, your boss, stood at his desk and made a sign with his hand for you to sit down in the chair.

You hadn't been here very often. You were an ordinary employee. Maybe it would have been better if it hadn't been for adventures among the stars and in different eras. That was why your chest was filled with confusion and thrill.

"So, why did you call me? Did I do something wrong?" of course, this was unlikely to happen. After all, in fact, it was your first working week in a long time and you did everything as usual.

"Oh, no. It is exactly the opposite" your boss had a nice smile on his face. You inwardly let out a sigh of relief. "You're doing your job well, but that's not why I called you. I wanted to know why you weren't at work for 2 months."

Damn it. That was bad. You needed to lie. You couldn't tell him you were a time traveler. Besides, no one forbade you to ask the Doctor to return you a second after he took you. And he offered it to you, but you just shook your head. So it was partly your fault.

"Well... I was traveling."

That was the only thing that came into your head. You could have done better. But it wouldn't be so difficult to lie about it. After all, it was true. You just didn't need to say where... And when.

"Traveling? Where?" Mr. Peterson walked around you and stood behind you. You didn't turn your head to look at him.

"Um... in Europe" actually, it was so. You were in Europe, but not in the 21st century... Well, there were adventures in space. "France, Spain, Germ..."

You were interrupted. There was a strange sound in the room. It was like bones crunching or breaking. You turned in your chair, gripping the arms tightly. Mr. Peterson's head was shaking like he had a seizure...

For the God's sake! It took your breath away, because you definitely didn't expect this. Something started to come out of his head... No, not something. It was the eye of a Dalek! A blaster appeared from his hand. Great! Your boss was a Dalek. Where did the Daleks get these ideas?

Before you could jump out of your chair, you were blinded by a bright light. Head felt heavy and dizzy. After a second, everything went dark and you passed out.

'Am I dead? Is this life after death? Why does my head hurt so much?' wait... If you were dead, how could you feel pain? And the floor was very cold, like metal.

'So I'm not dead. But why am I alive? It was a Dalek. Isn't he supposed to kill everyone who isn't Dalek?'

So many questions and so few answers. Maybe if you tried to open your eyes, you would learn something. Like where you were or why you weren't killed. Your eyelids were heavy, as if they weighed several tons. But you overcame yourself and managed to open them. Vision was blurred and the room was spinning a little. Maybe you had a slight concussion.

Okay, you weren't dead. There was a little doubt, though. The room you were in was completely white and empty. Very empty. There was nothing. No furniture (which made sense, since the Daleks didn't need it), no windows. Only white walls, floor, ceiling and door.

Wait... The door! You ran up to it and pulled the handle. Unfortunately, the door didn't budge. You put a little more effort into it, but this didn't work either. This was useless. The door was locked and there was no way out of this situation.

You weren't alone for long. The door opened and a Dalek entered. Normal Dalek. In a metal case. Who would have thought you'd be happy about this? At least, something normal... Well, as far as it was possible with Daleks.

"You must come with me" a shiver went down your spine. Despite two years of traveling with the Doctor, you still were a little afraid of the Daleks.

"Why must I?"

The Dalek ignored your question. He just turned around and walked out of your prison cell. Okay... To get answers you needed to follow him. Besides, you didn't have much choice.

You followed your jailer through the corridors. The corridors weren't high. Not that you hit your head on the ceiling. This wasn't true. You didn't bend, but it wasn't so comfortable.

And you were in a spacious room. It must have been the bridge of a ship. You stopped in front of big (bigger than the others) red Dalek. Obviously, he was in charge. You were surrounded by other Daleks, which there were many. Dozens. Hundreds.

Yeah! You definitely couldn't escape. Even if there was one Dalek, you wouldn't be able to do it. The Doctor once said one Dalek could take over the Earth. So you didn't stand a chance.

"Why am I here? Why didn't you kill me?" you asked, suppressing your fear and taking your courage. You were just tired of being a lady in distress and shaking with fear. The Doctor wouldn't stay quiet, so you wouldn't either.

"You will tell us where the Doctor is" the Supreme Dalek's thunderous voice rang out across the room.

So that was why you were here. That explained why you weren't killed. Not so bad. But it turned out the Daleks knew you. Knew you were traveling with the Doctor. And it twisted your stomach.

"What makes you think I know where he is?" you had no idea where the Doctor was. As soon as the Daleks realise this, they would kill you immediately. So you were going to stall. Usually, it helped the Doctor.

"You are companion of the Doctor. You know where he is" that wasn't really how it worked. These were two completely different things. But the Daleks didn't need to know that.

"And I'll tell you because..."

"We'll kill you."

Well, that wasn't exactly the best prospect. Of course, you didn't dream of it. But that wouldn't convince you to say (even if you knew where the Doctor was, that wasn't so). Of course, you were afraid of death, but you would never betray the Doctor... Wait! Oh, you got it.

"You won't" the Supreme Dalek was clearly surprised. If he had a face, you'd see it. But it was clear enough.

"Why? Explain!" The Daleks around you also shouted 'Explain!'

"If you kill me, you won't find the Doctor" if this information saved you from death, then you would be silent. You didn't care you didn't know.

"Then we will hold you as a hostage" apparently, you weren't the only stubborn here. The Daleks weren't giving up, trying to find some benefit from the fact they captured you.

"That still doesn't answer my question."

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. You were no longer afraid. Well, not exactly. The Daleks still gave you the creeps, but at least, they wouldn't shoot you with a blaster. Although you had no idea how to get out of here.

"The Doctor will come for you" you only ironically smiled.

The Doctor wouldn't come. You recently had a argument with him. In general, this was the first time. And probably the last.

The Doctor brought you to a planet that (as you later learned) was ruled by a tyrant. Oppressed the people, restricted the rights and freedoms of citizens, constantly fought with other planets. A typical tyrant.

So you and the Doctor were in the lair of the Resistance, which was preparing an attempt to kill this tyrant. Of course, he was terrible ruler. There were no questions.

But killing wasn't right. The Doctor thought the opposite, although the Doctor you started traveling with would never have thought like this. Then there was a argument and you ended up leaving him.

"Seriously? Do you really think the Doctor will come for me? So I want to inform you... you're wrong. He won't come."

"But you are companion of the Doctor..."

"Yes, it is. But the Doctor had so many companions that it's difficult to count. We travel with him and this is the best time of our lives. But it always ends. He leaves us and never returns."

Something slid down your hand, but you didn't pay attention to it. You wanted to finish your monologue first. Then you could check what it was.

"The same thing happened to me. The Doctor isn't an idiot to come straight to you" you felt someone pulling your hand and quite hard. "Surely he has already found a new companion and is traveling with him or her. And I don't even resent it. Because that's his life. And that's why it was so painful for me to leave him."

The Daleks stopped paying attention to you and listening a long time ago. They were looking at something... or someone. You heard your name. These tins didn't know it for sure. So you turned abruptly to this voice.

For the God's sake! You didn't expect this. Everything you said was true. You were absolutely sure. Didn't even exaggerate. But you were very wrong. The Doctor was standing to your left, holding your hand. You couldn't believe your eyes.

"Is it really you?" your hand went to his face to make sure the Doctor was real. But you uncertainly pulled your hand away, flexing fingers.

"Yes..." a nice and sweet smile appeared on the Doctor's face. But it didn't last long. You slapped him with all the force and anger you had.

"You idiot! You did what they wanted you to do. What for?" you were so mad at him. Sometimes the Doctor was so stupid, despite his age and knowledge.

"Ouch! That hurt!" he put a hand to his burning cheek, rubbing it to ease the pain. "I came to save you and this is how you thank me?" you just rolled eyes.

"Serves you right. I'm not worth getting you shot. You have other things to do. Saving the Universe, for example."

"There's no point in saving the Universe if you're not there" after that, your carefully constructed walls collapsed. Fell apart. Scattered brick by brick. You couldn't be mad at him anymore.

"So you have a plan, right?" you stood half-turned to the Daleks, looking at the Doctor with hope in your eyes. He couldn't have come here without a plan, could he?

"Plan? For what?" his round eyes met yours. The Doctor looked surprised. Dork... Or maybe he was just playing in front of the Daleks? But he still was a dork.

"To escape, of course."

"I thought it was just a friendly conversation. I didn't even take the TARDIS with me!"

The last sentence was very loud. Even too loud. The Daleks definitely heard that. And it was definitely not done by accident.

The TARDIS must be somewhere nearby. You carefully and attentively looked around, but there was no blue police box. So she was somewhere on the ship? No, not likely. That would be stupid. How would you find it then and why the Doctor said it so loud? Obviously, the Doctor came here on the TARDIS.

What if... Of course, it sounded crazy, but it was the only explanation you had. Besides, after traveling with the Doctor, you realised many things were possible. You assumed the TARDIS was invisible. If you weren't mistaken, the Doctor mentioned a long time ago that did it once and ended up in the White house in 1969.

In any case, it would be difficult to find the TARDIS. But you weren't going to give up so easily. You tried to find the box with your hands, which you put behind your back.

"So, why did you guys want to see me?"

The Doctor clapped as he moved closer to the Daleks, who even moved away. Great. The Doctor drew all the attention to himself. You mentally thanked him, because now you had more time to find the invisible police box.

"Exterm..."

The Supreme Dalek didn't finish sentence, as the Doctor interrupted him. You couldn't help but smile at that. You missed it so much. This was so similar to your Doctor.

"Oh, come on! It's been so long since we've seen each other. Why don't we talk first and then you try to kill me?"

There was a pat. You prayed to all possible gods that the Daleks didn't hear it. Well, at least, they didn't pay enough attention. You finally found the TARDIS. Well, you groped. A few seconds after and the door handle was in your hand.

"Although you are Daleks. For you talking and killing is the same thing" the Doctor walked up to you without turning to you. "Y/N, are you ready?"

You nodded and opened your mouth to say something, but you didn't have time. The ship tilted. You immediately realised it was time to act (apparently, an old habit from travelling in time and space).

You pushed an invisible door and stepped in console room. The Doctor came in after you and slammed the door. A second later, the sounds of blasters and Dalek shouts were heard.

And now you were in the TARDIS again... Home again. You missed it very much. But you wasn't sure of what exactly. The TARDIS, adventures or the Doctor. The Doctor ran to the console, frantically pushing buttons and pulling levers.

"What will happen to the Daleks? Why did the ship tilt?" you tried to catch up with the Doctor to see his face, but you couldn't. He was running around the console too fast.

"I just shut down the generator and engines beforehand, so their ship is falling." He finally stopped and gave you his brilliant smile. A sign that you should be impressed. You should, but you weren't. There was one unpleasant thing. More bad than unpleasant.

"Falling? But the Earth is under it!"

"Don't worry, they had a teleport. I just moved the ship to orbit of another planet" you just raised an eyebrow at this remark. Not because you didn't believe, but because you was curious where exactly. "Skaro, planet of the Daleks. Decided to bring them home."

The Doctor came closer to you and let out a deep breath. Apparently, he was afraid to say the next sentence. Was afraid you'd say no. It's like he was in a minefield and stepped on one, instead of talking to you.

"I... I'm sorry. Really sorry. I was awful. When you left... I wasn't worthy to be called as the Doctor..."

He smiled, looking at you for a few seconds and studying your face, which showed no emotion. His eyes were glazed and filled with tears, so he looked away as if ashamed.

"Teach me to be him" it was barely above a whisper.

You stared blankly at the Doctor. It hurt to see him like this. He never cried... Well, at least, you didn't see it. And it pricked your heart. He cried in front of you. Doctor. Cried. The one the Daleks were afraid of and whole armies fled.

"Look at me, please" your hand went to his cheek and a faint smile spread across your face.

The Doctor only raised his eyes. There was regret and pain in them. You were trying to figure out why. You didn't say no to him. Silly.

And that was probably why you loved him. Very much. You just realised the Doctor was more than a friend to you. Being away from him for a while (even if it wasn't long) showed you that.

You looked at the Doctor and he looked at you. It was like you had a silent conversation with him. Without words or telepathy. And it must come to end, because you did something.

You closed the distance and kissed him, pulling his face closer with your hand. You felt something wet on your cheeks. It must have been his tears... Or yours?

You two were crying. You missed each other so much. Adventures together, reading in the pleasant silence of each other and looking at the stars in the doorway of the TARDIS. None of you had any idea how painful the separation was.

When you pulled away, you just noticed how his hands were on your waist and yours on his shoulders.

"So you..."

Before the Doctor could finish, the phone rang. Someone wanted to contact you. Your cheeks are flushed and red with embarrassment and shame. You bit your lower lip. Whoever it was, you hated him or she very much right now. The moment was ruined.

"I need to answer it."

You were out of his arms. Didn't want to, but you had to. For you it was sad and offended. You took your phone out of pocket and looked at who was calling you. It was Anya, your sister. You took a deep, heavy breath and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" you were silently cursing Anya and hoping it wouldn't take long. "Well, I finally got through to you, Y/N. I'm at your door. Where are you?"

"Um... What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about our movie night. Have you forgotten?" damn it! Movie night. You were so ashamed, because Anya stood at your door and at this time you were in the TARDIS, millions of light years away from your apartment.

"Nooo. Of course, not" even from your voice it was clear this wasn't true.

"You're somewhere else, aren't you?"

"Yes..."

"Ugh! Y/N, seriously?! We haven't been able to gather together and watch some movies for half a year."

"Listen... I don't know how to tell you this..."

You looked back at the Doctor, who was watching the phone conversation. You didn't know before whom you were more ashamed. Before the Doctor for interrupting such a moment or before Anya for making her stand at your door.

"You went on another trip with your mysterious boyfriend that you don't want me to meet. I already understood" but the irritation in her voice was gone. Now there was... Curiosity? "So you made up with him? Oh, so our little Y/N learned to cope with difficulties."

"Anya!"

Your sister often liked to annoy and tease you. Although this strange way she showed she was caring and you knew it. But it didn't mean you liked that.

"Okay. But seriously, I'm happy for you. I'm just warning you if there isn't movie night next time, I'll break your boyfriend's nose."

You just rolled eyes and looked at the Doctor again. You were hoping that if he met your sister, it wouldn't be under these circumstances.

After saying goodbye to Anya, you headed for the door leading to the center of the TARDIS. But before you were halfway there, the Doctor stopped you by grabbing your wrist and looked at you questioningly.

"What? I want to change clothes. Office wear isn't very comfortable on the beach. Or on Spa planet" you tried to say it seriously, but your smile gave you away.

After that the Doctor released your hand, almost jumping with joy that you were staying at the TARDIS.

You could feel his eyes still studying you. Apparently, the Doctor was trying to answer questions that came up after your conversation.

You were trying to find answers, too. You both still had to figure out what happened before the phone call. What it was all about and how far it would go. But this would remain for another day. Now you needed to relax.

#doctor who #fanfiction #dhawan!master #dhawan!doctor #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!doctor x reader #dhawan!master imagine #dhawan!doctor imagine #dw #dw imagine #doctor who imagine #roleswap au #doctor who roleswap

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years

Text

“K - THE FIRST STORY”

CHAPTER 4: BLACK OR WHITE (Part 2)

* K - The First Story (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Inside the lunch box, alongside the white rice, the colorful and well-balanced garnishes are well packaged. The boy thinks it's like being full of "happiness".

The boy loves it because it looks like the treasure chest with an unbalanced brown lunch that is filled with "special" items like meat and fried foods that are always blessed with recommended side dishes. However, he was impressed by the desperate lunch that Kuro prepared as a harmonious world.

From the lunch box, the boy takes a plump, beautiful yellow egg with chopsticks and puts it in his mouth. The sweetness spread through his mouth. He asked Kuro to do it yesterday, the rolled egg was delicious too, but the sweet flavored egg grill is good too.

While trying with a smile, he heard a clear voice next to him.

"Shiro has his own lunch with side dishes!"

Kukuri opened her eyes and looked towards the shrine that surrounded the lunch box with Kuro and Neko in the coffee shop. For whatever reason, he have two lunches on his hands.

He decided to advance through school with his own face, saying he was a "transfer student."

This school is located on an island, isolated from the outside, and basically he cannot enter the site without a pass. However, probably because they were relieved by safety, the people on the school island were enthusiastic about the safety aspect. Even the seemingly suspicious Kuro and Neko are accepted as "I'm a school person because I'm here with a natural face."

By the way, he managed to calm down Neko, who doesn't like clothes, and put her in the Ashinaka school girls uniform (when the boy praised Neko in uniform like "cute!) However, Kuro is still in his uniform. Also, even though he had a sword on his waist, the people around him naturally accepted Kuro's existence, probably because the boy was with him.

Kukuri looked at the contents of the boy's lunch box with a surprised look, and the boy put his hand on his cheek.

"This time it is my beloved wife's lunch."

"If you just say stupid things, I'll stick my tongue out at you."

Kuro draws his sword threatening to cut off the boy's tongue.

As for Neko, he has already eaten Kuro's lunch, and she looks at Kukuri's lunch and makes a voice that waits, "Are you hungry?" Kukuri opened the lunch box and asked, "Do you want to eat?" She opened the lunch box, but for some reason there was no main food, such as fried or roasted salmon, and various kinds of vegetable side dishes such as slow-cooked dishes, salads, and hot vegetables were packed in the lunch box. She wonders if she is on a diet.

Despite the interaction between Kukuri and Neko, the boy looks towards a PDA.

"Oh, what's up? It's different from the school's designated PDA."

Kukuri said, paying attention to the boy's PDA.

The boy's PDA has disappeared, therefore he borrows Kuro's. By the way, a handmade plush doll hangs from Kuro's PDA. When he told him that he thought it was a hobby that did not suit his face, it seems that it is a doll that he made himself, imitating the appearance of Miwa Ichigen, and from there he began to sigh the story of how wonderful Ichigen was. So sorry to ask. Frankly speaking, Kuro's emotion when he talks about "Ichigen" is very disgusting.

The boy squeezed Kuro's PDA and made another comment.

"It's from my wife."

"Do you really want to separate yourself from your tongue?"

Kuro draws his sword again threatening to cut off his tongue. He's not sure if he's unexpectedly good or if he's really mad, because he can't even pull a joke, but his reaction when he hit him is a bit funny.

After a little tantrum, Kuro regains his mind and turns to the boy looking at the PDA.

"Did you find out something?"

"No, it is an unclear image..."

What the boy sees on Kuro's PDA is that video of a person, who looks exactly like the boy, killing a person.

This was transferred from his classmate Mishina. He said he found this video on a website. With the curiosity and drive of a healthy high school boy, Mishina is good at watching erotic videos and images, avoiding the security restrictions placed on school-designated PDAs. Some of his classmates also have part of the videos that Mishina found. Yesterday, Mishina intercepted the boy in an uncrowded corridor and told him a secret story: "I found a bad video yesterday."

Although the boy does not have a young and perky sex drive like Mishina, he looks at Mishina's PDA with the feeling of "Well, if he wants to show it, I can't wait to see it." But, it was not an erotic video.

It is the video of a murder that was shown on a huge monitor in Shizume.

However, Mishina believed that this video was false. It seems to be treated like a naughty video even on the net. However, the criminal's face looked exactly like the boy, so he became interesting and came to show him.

Mishina laughed mockingly, saying, "If you did something wrong, should you be selfish?"

In fact, the boy cannot tell if it is a fake video. But if the person was actually killed and this was false, it would probably mean that the real criminal had redesigned the footage to replace himself with the boy. However, this video was taken by the murderer himself, and from what the video looks like, it appears that it was taken with a retro camera rather than a PDA. The video itself is also owned by "Homura", whose partner is the murdered person. Could the criminal have tampered with the video? If that is not possible, is it the crime of a person with the appearance of the boy? Is that possible?

The doubts have no end, but what the boy must do is not pursue the truth, but prove his innocence.

The boy never does. The boy who lives in the dormitory has rarely left Gakuenjima except to run errands these days.

The boy looks at the picture. It says "12.07 23:45". It's been a week. Of course, the boy does not remember leaving Gakuenjima at that time.

"Are you seeing it multiple times?"

Kukuri looks mysteriously at the boy's hands.

"Hmm, this is a mysterious video delivered by Mishina."

"Eh, Mishina-kun?"

Kukuri overreacted to Mishina's name. The cheeks are slightly tinted red. The boy suddenly remembered the incident that would save himself at Kukuri's appearance.

++++++++++

Fushimi snorted as he watched the scenes projected on the many monitors in the information room.

Each image in each location is displayed one after another on the monitor. Not only the city's surveillance cameras were collected and analyzed, but also all kinds of data such as personal camera images of PDAs and the content of private communications.

Knowledge of the system. As long as the system is up and running, there will be no privacy for the people of this country.

It was a system that prioritized investigations into people's human rights, which could be triggered by the special "Real Level" information disclosure request issued only in emergencies where an undetermined number of lives are in danger. Since the approval of the activation also requires the permission of the Prime Minister, the order of the "Golden King" Kokujoji Daikaku has also been obtained.

He doesn’t want to activate it to find a child.

Fushimi was alone in his heart and ironically distorted his mouth while looking at the private lives of strangers.

"It is quite a masterpiece."

"Help me if you have free time."

Awashima takes Fushimi's words as dislike without raising her eyebrows.

"I am not free."

Fushimi looks back at his desk and slides his finger over the keyboard.

On Fushimi's desk monitor, there was a video of the murder posted by "Homura." A bullet was fired into the roof of the Hirasaka building, in the Western District, at 11:45 p.m. on December 7.

Tatara Totsuka was not good for Fushimi. When he was in "Homura", even if he showed that he didn't like that Fushimi didn't get used to it, he didn't care and felt like he would stop him and see through the line that he really didn't want to step on. He saw it with his eyes. It was not good for those eyes.

He was a man of the opposite nature to Fushimi, and he always laughed with a face that everything he saw was funny.

"Totsuka-san, you are dead."

A whisper came from Fushimi's mouth.

Fushimi stared at the image of the man whose face was always smiling, falling on the concrete without force.

Suddenly something happened. Akiyama, who was doing the compilation work, called out to Awashima in a whispering voice, "Lieutenant Awashima!" The voice turned the eyes of everyone in the briefing room towards Akiyama.

There was a child on the monitor that Akiyama showed. The facial recognition matches the criminal boy that Fushimi just confirmed. Fushimi's expression also tightened slightly.

"Do you know where he is going?"

"Yes, please wait a moment."

Akiyama immediately responds to Awashima's question and runs his finger across the keyboard. Review the points on the web in chronological order. He was at the foot of a bridge where he is captured by Shizume's surveillance camera, an ordinary PDA camera trying to capture the confusion caused by "Homura's" people, and finally the boy.

A connecting bridge that spans from Tokyo Bay and leads to an artificial island. The boy goes over the bridge and enters the island. That was the last appearance of the boy found by "Yuishiki" (Wisdom).

Awashima looks at the map of the place where the boy was last seen.

"The Ashinaka school island?"

It is a gigantic school that is very independent and does not allow outsiders to enter easily, partly because the whole island is one site.

He hears Awashima mutter under her breath, saying it was troublesome.

++++++++++

Anna finally did.

Yata was running. Anger and fighting spirit burn the flames of the body. From that day on, he couldn't find a place to hit and was swirling in his stomach, turning Yata into a fiery bullet with the target he should be heading for now.

A motorcycle gets next to him and they run side by side, they seem to fly in the landscape around them. There was a huge body that he knew on the motorcycle.

"Yata-san! What's wrong?"

"Oh, Kamamoto! Very good, you are coming too!"

"Where you go?! What happened?!"

Yata looked down the road and told him to sharpen his eyes and growl.

"We're going to the school island."

"Gakuenjima? The school island in Tokyo Bay?"

"Just a moment ago, Anna's skill finally found out where it was!"

Kamamoto took a deep breath.

Anna is a member of the "Homura" clan, but has more power as a Strain than the power of fire. She has always been searching for the criminal's whereabouts with her sensitive ability.

It finally showed results.

Yata remembers the bar just before. Anna spread the map on the table and stared at the many red marbles rolling on it. Its responsiveness detects the criminal's signal, and the marbles move and gather towards a point on the map. Beneath the bright red marble is an artificial island in Tokyo Bay.

“Here.”, Anna's transparent voice said like a decree. The criminal is there.

Yata holds his hand tightly in his fist. That night, it was a hand holding a bloody body. This hand knows the cold body that fell on the rooftop in the middle of the night and the warmth of the blood that was spilled.

Yata gritted his back teeth tightly and said, "Kamamoto, take me." He put his hand on Kamamoto's shoulder and jumped into the back seat without slowing the skateboard propelled by his skill. At the same time, he kicked the skateboard and lift it to catch it in the air.

"Speed it up! I'm going to Gakuenjima to kill that damn guy!"

"Hey!"

Kamamoto twists the throttle grip to accelerate the motorcycle. Grasping Kamamoto's thick back, Yata puts his strength into his arm holding the skateboard.

"Wait, you fucking bastard!", he whispers into his mouth.

++++++++++

In the locker room, which was simply installed by pulling a curtain in the classroom, the boy dressed in a khaki kimono and looked at the borrowed PDA. The video plays on the PDA.

“The date shown in that video that was shown in the city was at 11:45 p.m. on December 7th. Given the distance between the school and the crime scene, it is not possible to move in an hour."

"And so..."

Kuro was also dressed in Japanese clothes. With a short sleeve and a hakama, the original long black hair hairstyle collected and the sword attached to the waist match, and it looks like a samurai.

The boy wears a yellow garment over a khaki kimono. It's a hand-sewn costume for a female student, but it's pretty cool.

"Yes. If it is proven that I was at school around 11:45 PM on the 7th, my alibi will be established."

"But you're in a single room. If you slept alone in the room, it wouldn't be an alibi."

Kuro turned his eyes to Neko. Neko also wears kimono. Although she was wearing it, she didn't seem to know how to wear the kimono, so he could see the white skin with the front wide open.

Neither the boy nor Kuro did not change their complexion because they got used to seeing Neko naked. Perhaps he couldn't see Neko playing with the obi in her hand, and when she approached him, he wrapped the obi around Neko's body with one hand as if he was gathering an old newspaper.

"I'm telling you! I don't accept this testimony as an alibi!"

"Kurosuke, you are stupid! Shiro has been with me since I met him! Wagahai's Shiro is a good Shiro!"

"Shut up. You're saying you don't trust me. If I find out you were responsible for this, don't worry. I'll be prepared."

The boy opened his mouth sweetly, looking at Kuro and Neko as if they were really like a dog and a cat.

"Well, it's my fault. That day was the day that preparations for the cultural festival were allowed at night, and as I recalled earlier, it was a day where there were many incidents."

"Incidents?"

The boy trusted the mysterious Kuro.

"So there must be someone who can prove that I was there too."

The boy used a bird hat to finish. A beard is also attached to the mouth.

"Hmm! How many times do you change your clothes while chatting!"

Feeling free to open the curtains on the simple wardrobe, Kukuri stuck her face inside.

"Oh, it looks good! Shiro-kun, you are a valuable person to look good like Ebisu-sama even if you are not fat at all."

The boy, Kuro, and Neko were forced to try on the costumes they would wear to the main event of the school festival. On the night of the school festival, they will wear these costumes, carry a sword and pull a horse to parade to the shrine behind the school.

The Ashinaka school school festival has a mysterious flavor, in part because it overlaps with the annual shrine festival.

Kukuri was in a good mood when she saw the three people wearing costumes, and while saying to Neko, "Wagahai-chan is a beautiful woman!" On the first day, Neko who hated wearing those clothes and had trouble with the boy's hands, was also happy to be told that she was a beautiful woman.

Well, the boy changed his expression.

He has been living at school almost normally for the past half day, but his life is involved. He has to ask someone to testify that he was at this school that day.

The boy saw Kukuri. The girl who started the confusion that night.

Yes, it started with a runaway boy who fell in love with her.

--- Testimony of the classmate, Sota Mishina.

Oh sure, it was around 11:45 PM on December 7th. There is no doubt that the preparations for the night of the school festival had just finished.

He climbed the stairs of the clock tower with the determination of a generation.

In progress…

#k #k project #k the first story #k novel

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katieqnmr · 3 years

Text

reflection - portrait of a drag king (representing the real)

Below is an informal reflection, I just wanted to get some words down. Beneath that is my formal, assessed reflection. I just put them in the same post because I think they’re both valuable!

INFORMAL REFLECTION

before we had the critique session, I wrote this:

Onto the finish! As we close on this project, I have some informal reflections to make. I would firstly say that this project has been a really calming one. I realise that for me, my role (visual director, animator) was not too demanding. My group has been outstanding, and I am just so proud that we have worked so well even when hundreds of miles apart!

ROLES AGAIN:

Natalia - Visual director (and principal director)

Myself - Visual director, animator

Rosie - Editor

Bethany & Rosie - Cinematography, B-Roll shooting etc

I was able to do the animation for this project, and Natalia and I did visual directing (though she was principal director!) As I was saying, this has been relaxing for me because I’ve been able to somehow (!) insert my love of art and sketching into this project! I animated a number of elements, and I think they nestle in just right with everything else. :) I would also like to thank Mia, the Drag King who we interviewed. She has been so helpful and eager and honestly, entertaining throughout this whole process! The way she speaks is a delight to listen to (a very useful element when making a documentary), and she seemed so at ease in front of the camera. She was super helpful the whole way, offering to film anything for us, and more importantly letting us see quite a private side of her, or perhaps quite a personal side. Identity can be uprooting to share with others, so I’m really grateful she chose to share herself with us.

And now I can reflect fully, with all feedback on hand.

And WOW am I happy! The feedback we received on this project is probably the most positive for any project I’ve been involved in, which is such a lovely thing, everyone seemed to genuinely really enjoy it! :D Mia also said she loved it, which meant a great deal. I know we were a little nervous for her to see what portrayal we’d made of her.

FORMAL REFLECTION (CRITICAL ASSESSMENT REPORT)

Throughout the research stage, I tried to find material that would enable me to greater understand the world of drag, as I was not entirely familiar beforehand. I used a range of materials, from books, to articles, to films and TV shows, (examples being ‘The Art of Drag’, ‘Gender Troubles’, and of course Ru Paul’s drag race, for a more mainstream approach.)

I wanted to explore each media to reflect on what might work in presenting a character through documentary, and early on, our group decided on a rougher, 90’s aesthetic, bright colours, and an energetic pace, which would capture Mia’s personality in part, and form a visually engaging base for the documentary.

We planned across the country, deciding that Mary and Bethany would together or individually shoot Mia, as they live close to her in Dundee, thus assigning them the roles of cinematographers. The rest of our group, Rosie, Natalia and myself, would be the editor, and visual directors, respectively. Our pre production plans relied on group meetings where we could discuss the basic outline for the edits, and we were all of one mind in this project. We all agreed almost effortlessly the direction it should go in, in terms of the aesthetic I mentioned earlier, subject matter (drag kings, gender and identity), and how the edit would be arranged, (a mixture of b-roll, Mia’s sketches and my animations layered on top, her interview and poems running throughout).

All arrangements were simple, though a few shooting days had to be rescheduled, which wasn’t a problem as we planned with plenty of time, and additionally the extension was helpful there too. Natalia and myself as visual directors, were clear in our plans for what would be shot, we collated a list of basic shots we wanted in the documentary, which Mary and Bethany fulfilled perfectly. The shoot went great, and Natalia and myself transcribed the entire thing (though she did more than me), and then we moved onto Rosie’s stage, the edit.

Rosie was a fantastic editor, communicating really clearly with us so we could go back and forth between draft edits and all together decide on the best structure of the film. We dispersed Mia’s poetry throughout, and Rosie edited the desired aesthetic fantastically, using my animations and Mia’s own drawings in harmony with the footage shot. The structure was also based on Mia’s history in performance, her thoughts on a fractured identity and how she presented herself to others, and her reflections for the future, as she said she’s still trying to find her ‘yearning’.

Our focus was always going to be Mia, her identity and her struggles with that identity. The documentary sort of branched from ‘drag king’ to ‘identity of drag’, but it still maintained that Mia’s identity was formed partly from her drag.

In terms of sound, we didn’t focus too heavily on it, which is maybe a thought for the future. It might’ve furthered the effect of our piece, though I am glad we didn’t add any music, as with all the visuals on-screen, I feel it would’ve been overwhelming at best! With more time, we might’ve considered adding Foley, in terms of paper scrunching, or the jumper muffling sounds, but our time limit caused us to focus elsewhere. Luckily I don’t think it’s too much of a dealbreaker, and is something to consider if we move further with the project. We also forgot to add credits at the end, but that would be an easy fix.

I have no doubt that our film is engaging, only the pacing was considered an issue, which I can totally understand. It is very rapid-fire, although arguably this was appropriate, (though this was not intentional) given that Mia herself felt overwhelmed by her fragments of identity. Our group all felt that the edit was the correct pace throughout the development stage, so I don’t think I would change much.

I learned so much from this project, more so than any other so far, in terms of the subject matter (I feel so much more knowledgeable about the art of drag now), and I also learnt a lot about collaborating, which I think our group did immensely successfully.

Mia later told us that she really enjoyed the film and that she felt seen, and she was the person who I really wanted to feel happy about it. So I would say that it was a success. I think the film illustrates Mia’s nuances, and her intelligence, and it showcases her ability to articulate these things. So I am very pleased, and so proud of everyone involved. Thank you Mia.

#representing the real #portrait of a drag king

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laughing-with-god · 5 years

Text

Pandemonium XI

Words; 3.4k

“I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again.”

The tension in the room always seemed to follow Namjoon.

It was as if he carried the marvelous ability to take the thin air around him and bend it into a daunting aura. The very presence of him screamed alarm to others, an alpha just begging you to fuck with him. One found it a bit of a task to just meet his eye line.

You must admit, his little dialogue of his prediction of your ‘submissive’ side left a somewhat startled and taken aback feeling for you to process.

Surprisingly, he did make a point of you aggressive persona being a lot to upkeep. You weren’t sure if it was a defense mechanism or your personality, but you did feel a bit tired at times from having to keep a constant level of defiance. Perhaps you did have a problem showing vulnerability, and that’s why you act so bold; especially in the face of men.

You found yourself in a position you rarely were ever in; flabbergasted and strangled by silence as your mind struggled to keep up with what was just said.

Namjoon looked pleased, aristocratic features twisting up in a witty smile as if your confusion aided his pleasure. His dimples made an appearance and you felt your own face scrunch up into a scoff. How befitting was it for such an adorable feature to be plopped beside the very same lips that uttered such taboo topics at the dinner table?

His smile sparked some annoyance within you due to it revealing the satisfaction that his plan was working.

He wanted you to be freaking out right now.

He wanted you to feel exposed.

He wanted to plant a seed in your head.

You wouldn’t let him.

You leaned back in your seat and grabbed your glass to take a sip of whatever expensive wine he found necessary to splurge on. ‘Rich people’, you thought while barely suppressing an eye roll.

“You know Mr. Kim, I think that perhaps your little male ego just needs to feel vital. That’s why you enjoy the concept of being a girl’s ‘daddy’.”

A snark from his baritone voice. His olive tone hand reached out to mirror your actions by grasping his own glass of wine. “Charming analysis, really. Yet this doesn’t stem from a need to be in control and feel important. Like I stated before nymphet, it works both ways. You’d be just as vital to me as I am to you.”

“Be that as it may, don’t you think that forcing a submissive role onto someone is just manipulative?” You retorted.

“Not at all. Tell me babe, exactly when did I force any type of role onto you? In fact, I quite like you just as you are. I would be very bored if you were a utter doormat.”

You snorted at this. “And what exactly was that whole ted talk about your psychological analysis concerning my inner submissive side?”

“My meer suspicions. But let me ask you some questions.” A pause as if to wait for your objection. You stayed quiet. “Do you find it a negative that your partner would want to take care of your every need?”

You shook your head.

“Is it bad to depend on your partner?”

Another shake of the head.

“And will you admit that in relationships, one usually falls into a more assertive role while the other falls into a submissive role?”

A prolonged response, but you settled for a shrug.

“And you have a softer side, it’s just hidden under a facade of aggression.”

You placed your drink down quickly, and stuttered; “W-well, I wouldn’t say-” “No, no. That wasn’t a question.” His dark eyes glimmered with a knowing benevolence.

You face warmed on its’ own accord.

Logic was also something that was not wasted on this man by any means. It was like you were debating against a world class lawyer. You felt small and somewhat stupid, trapped by the brilliant diction to escape those plush lips of his. Of course, your immediate reaction was to yell and spark up another fight. He had tricked you.

Yet, you couldn’t. You would be proving him right.

Perhaps you were too stubborn. Maybe you were demonizing the idea of a dom/sub relationship. As you searched your mind for one valid reason to take a strong stance against it, you couldn’t.

“Are you two ready to order?” This broke your trance, causing you to look up and see the anxious waiter, pen and paper in hand.

You huffed and looked at Namjoon. “Order for me.”

Namjoon smirked, “No allergies to speak off?”

“Nope.”

Namjoon turned his attention to the waiter and informed him of the food that he would be expecting. Meanwhile, you attempted to drown yourself in that alcoholic grape juice that suddenly became all too interesting. Not noticing the very proud smirk Namjoon held.

“Any recent literature to capture my nymphet’s mind?”

You shoved another fork full into your mouth, not knowing whether or not to be happy that Namjoon did indeed order something you found very delicious. Not that you would ever tell him that, though.

“I finished Fitzgerald’s ‘This Side Of Paradise.’” You bluntly responded.

“And your thoughts?” Namjoon prodded.

“Amory Blaine was a player who got mad when he got played.”

Namjoon laughed, “Really now? I thought he was ahead of his time. When he met a woman who was finally of his wit and standard, she rejected him because she was too clever. Hell, Amory Blaine wouldn’t have married himself!”

“Sure, she was smart for dodging him and marrying someone rich. Yet, he didn’t have the right to bitch about it.”

“He got his heart broken.” Namjoon argued.

“He got his ego broken.” You disagreed, remembering the protagonists’ self-entitled rants of despair.

“We should have our own book club.” Namjoon suggested, seeming to enjoy the contrast of beliefs concerning classic novels.

“No thanks, I would rip your head off if I constantly had to hear your propaganda.” Chewing harshly on purpose, you glared straight ahead at him.

He smiled, amused by your lack of manners. “You’re a messy eater.”

You chewed louder, mouth open to get the sound effect as well.

“You know, you’re only proving me right by acting like a childish brat.” He smirked before passing you over a napkin. “If it were up to me, you would have gotten something from the kid’s menu and be eating out of kiddie plates and sippy cups.”

“I think you would find perfect companionship at a daycare if that’s what you would want to see someone eat out of.” You swallowed loudly, taking in sick satisfaction from Namjoons’ eyebrow twitch,

“Someone needs to teach you manners.” He stated.

“You’re right. Maybe Mr. Kim or Yoongi would be up for the job.” Using his brothers against him was cruel, but you couldn’t deny the opportunity to get under his skin.

He halted his movement to slice through his steak and looked up to bore his orbs into yours, “Don’t you dare mention those buffoons when you’re with me.”

“Why? Does it grind your gears to know that one of your brothers could be a more capable ‘daddy’ than you?” you couldn’t help but tease, feeling a level of power at finding a weak point at a seemingly powerful man.

A silence passed and his head bowed to cut through his steak, more precisely and harshly than he was mincing it before. You paused your consuming, partly startled at his sudden seriousness and lack of banter.

“Tell me something dear, were you spanked as a child?”

You choked, “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

He popped a dice of meat into his mouth to devour, “......because you’re about to be.”

Besides the obvious undertones of power-play, the dinner was perfectly adequate.

Namjoon held qualities that you would’ve liked in a partner; intelligent, gentlemanly, well-read, respectful and clever enough to uphold a repartee with you. He was one of the few people who you felt stimulated with by debating openly, one of the few people you respected as an equal footing with you. He challenged you. Some men you considered below you, knowing that their intentions were ill moraled and brains not nearly filled enough. Other men you considered to be of a different world, too out of touch to ever be a match to you. Similar to how you felt when your relationship first bloomed with Jimin, a man who should’ve never collided worlds with you.

But Namjoon was someone you felt rather comfortable with. After getting past the desperate swaying of dom/sub dynamics, you found yourself enjoying the company of the previously intimidating man. He entertained your thoughts on culture, music and even absurd analysis on how Oscar wilde was the ‘first gay king’ as you lovingly put it.

The meal was finished and he refused to beg for more of your time (something Jungkook or Jimin would’ve pulled.) He paid the bill with the help of a shiny black card, laid a crisp twenty dollar bill on the table and led you out of the restaurant whilst guiding you via an arm around your waist.

The car ride home was rather silent, the enchanting notes of Chopin played through the radio and draped an air of sophistication into the atmosphere. Neither of you spoke, yet it was far from awkward. It was more like a mutual agreement to appreciate a stillness after such engaging conversation.

He pulled into your dorm parking lot. Like an old fashioned bachelor, he exited his side to open the door for you and walk you to your door (or more like the dorm entrance).

“Was I satisfactory?” His deep voice rumbled, tone sounding more intimate as you were directly next to him...practically feeling the vibrations from his chest as he said his words.

You two continued your walk, however you were setting the pace. It was a slow walk, you had to admit, but you wanted to prolong the time and see how Namjoon would wrap the evening up. So it was your little secret that you took your time with calculated strides.

“Compared to what I thought was going to happen….yeah, I’m pleased.”

“And just what was your prediction?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know. Maybe you pulling a Cosby and taking me to a playroom or something.” You laughed.

“Your humor is too satirical love, people overhearing might not get the joke.” Namjoon pulled your form closer to him as a chilly wind passed through unexpectedly. You breathed deep and briefly wondered if it would be weird to ask just exactly how much this fucker drops on cologne alone.

‘He did tip a waiter like 20 dollars though….maybe I don’t wanna know.’

Sadly, you had approached the door and were forced to face him with goodbyes.

“Well...I’m glad you got to spend a night with a man instead of wasting it on a little boy.”

You rolled your eyes, and debated with whether or not you should say what has been bothering you on the drive over.

“A-are you going to teach me how a man kisses?” This indeed was the reason you had agreed to the date in the first place; Namjoon claiming to blow Jungkook’s boyish technique out of the water with a much more experienced mouth. It was something that was bubbling under the surface for you, making you prone to bursting if it wasn’t addressed.

Namjoon quirked his brow and rubbed the back of his neck, “I suppose, if that’s what the lady wants.”

You waited, holding your breath subconsciously.

He smirked and stepped closer to you, invading any realm of personal space. God, he was tall. You felt vulnerable but surprisingly….you didn’t feel any disgust towards this new feeling. It felt almost intimate to be so close to such a bigger frame than yours...

“Close your eyes.” He purred. You obeyed, you didn’t know why you did it without question...but you obeyed.

You waited for the feeling of his lips to touch yours.

Would his kisses be rough and alpha-like, like the domineering persona seen before?

Or would it be careful and elaborate, similar to his manners and mindset?

You felt his hand take yours.

You pursed your lips, not wanting to waste any time and cover the distance quickly.

You felt something warm and soft pucker against the back of your hand.

What?

You opened your eyes to witness something you weren’t expecting; Namjoon’s broad and receding back as he retreated towards the parking lot.

Rage spurred within you.

The fucker really just kissed your hand before trying to leave while you had your eyes closed and lips out like a fucking idiot?!

“What the fuck Namjoon?!” You called out, not caring how shrill and insane your own voice sounded as it echoed through the parking lot.

He raised one long arm to wave back, still not turning around to face you. “A real gentleman doesn’t kiss on the first date babygirl.”

You breathed in.

Your breathed out.

“YOU MANIAC! YOU CAN TALK ABOUT BDSM OVER DINNER BUT CAN’T EVEN PECK ME?! ‘DADDY’ MY ASS! YOUR BROTHERS WOULDN’T TREAT ME LIKE THIS!” You hollered as Namjoon got into his car, not once acknowledging your temper tantrum and starting up the vehicle to drive away.

You heard a window open as a college student poked their head out to see what was going on. “What the fuck are you yelling for? People are trying to sleep!”

You looked up and flipped the anonymous peer off while taking out your keys to enter the dorm.

The Kim brothers were an interesting breed, you decided.

You laid in bed, scrolling through your phone as you awaited sleep to come.

When you had got home, Kat was nowhere to be seen and you were left with the dorm to yourself. She did mention a study dat before so you weren’t too concerned.

You decided to wash up and turn in, knowing how early your first class was tomorrow.

A notification popped up on the top of your screen, halting your browsing.

It was a text from Namjoon.

‘I fell in love with her courage,

Her sincerity and her flaming self respect.

And it’s these things I’d believe in,

Even if the world indulged in wild suspicions

That she wasn’t all that she should be.

I love her and that is the beginning of everything.’ ~F. Scott Fitzgerald’

Did he really sent you a poem?

You spent about ten minutes reading the words over and over again, letting it warm your heart as you pictured Namjoon’s long fingers typing it down and thinking of you. It was easy for you to connect the dots given one of the his favorite topics was your submission to him. However, this poem hinted that he was not at all turned off by your aggression and bratiness. Even if the world didn’t think think you were proper, your flaming self respect earned Namjoon’s fondness of you. And like the last line said….

This was only the beginning.

You fell asleep with a smile upon your face.

Perhaps if you had looked up the horoscope for your astrological sign, it would’ve warned you of just exactly how cursed this day was about to be. Maybe even told you to stay your ass home.

Sadly, you had to discover this bad fortune the hard way by treading out into the very world itself.

First, you woke up late and thus had very little time to get pretty. Not only did you burst into your first class about 15 minutes late, but you also looked like a hot mess.

Then, you realized that you forgot to charge your laptop last night. Meaning, all notes were now going to have to painstakingly be taken by hand. This would have been longer and more carpal-tunnel themed but god decided to strike upon you even harder by making that pen explode on you, ink now staining your shirt.

And the final nail in the coffin was in your early afternoon class. Your professor was handing back grades on the most recent paper to be turned in, one that you have worked very hard on and missed sleep over.

And what did you get?

A big, bright, red ‘F’.

Red was a hideous color, you concluded. Maybe that’s why teachers used it? To make the letter grade look angry and disappointed. It worked like a charm given the more you stared at it, the more heavy the guilt and inner-turmoil felt on your chest.

You had enough of this day.

You looked like shit.

Felt like shit.

And apparently your quality as a student was utter shit.

There was a silver lining, and in a facade optimism you tried to focus on it and nothing else.

You only had one more class to suffer through today, after that you were perfectly free to wallow the rest of the 24 hours in bed with whatever items to satisfy a pity party.

But while walking on campus to your next class, you had caught sight of something.

A group of guys were lurking by the entrance to your next class.

The closer you approached, the more clearer their faces became.

It was a fuck boy pack, about five in total. They were excitedly talking with one another, some even rough housing with those enlarged limbs of theirs. You rolled your eyes and continued your stride, not wanting to pause and give them any more inspection. All you had to do was pass them and get into the classroom.

A boisterous roar that made you jump, the sound coming from the group itself (which now appeared to be like a group of wild hyenas).

You turned to see what the fuck can be such cause for such foolish hollering.

Only to see one of the guys pointing right at you while the others turned to face the direction.

And what face was among them?

Jungkook.

The scene was reminiscent of ‘Mean Girls’.

When Lindsey Lohan ate her lunch in the bathroom because she had no one to sit with.

You were just like her.

Instead, you weren’t eating lunch so much as you were bawling your eyes out.

A girl could only take so much, you know?

After you saw Jungkook among them, you snapped right back around to head to a bathroom. Not wanting him to bear witness to your now red face and watery eyes.

You promised yourself that you were just heading to the restroom for a second to process what just happened. Not to mention you also wanted to avoid them. However the more you tried to process it from within the claustrophobic stall of yours, the more unbearable the situation became.

Paranoia clawed at you and it quickly became apparent that either way, it wasn’t looking good for you.

What the fuck did Jungkook tell them about you?

Did he also tell them about your night together?

Did he tell them that you were a poor commoner willing to set aside self-respect for the wealth of sugar daddies?

Just how much did he expose of your intimate side to his bros for the sake of a laugh?

Although Jungkook was the proud owner of doe eyes, iron man socks and IU posters….he still hung out with jocks and wore too much axe spray to be allowed. Foolish it was to place any trust on a man like that. If he wanted to let the whole school know of your dirty little secret, he would have all the proof and popularity on his side.

You sniffled.

You knew that today in general just wasn’t a good day for you. Over-sensitivity was a given. But did being aware of your wounded heart make the pain go away any less? No. Of course not.

You just felt so...small. Hopeless. Meek. Like prey to anyone and anything that wanted to hurt you today.

And you craved protection of any sort.

Your eyes released more tears and another sob broke through your seemingly paper-thin chest. Just when exactly did you work yourself into a incomprehensive hysteria? You didn’t know.

Working on auto-pilot, you felt your own hand reach for your phone and swiftly click a contact name, tears dropping onto the screen before you put it to your ear.

A ring as you called the person.

He picked up on the second one.

“Hello?” his deep voice greeted.

“Daddy! Please get me….I-I’m scared.” you pleaded, not understanding the words that left your mouth until it was much too late.

Namjoon was taken aback on the other line.

Maybe the submissive side wasn’t so hidden afterall.

(Sorry I haven’t touched this fic in a long time....Im trash. tbh I hit a writers block and found nam kinda intimidating to write for. Is it obvious I haven’t written this story in a long time lmao? I have an outline though for the next few chapters so we should get back on track. Im very proud of the other stories I put out tho so if you haven’t yet, please check those out. Ask my character is available, tell me your thoughts on this chapter and I’ll catch you guys on the flippity flop.)

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